Today. Again. Almost.

On August 11, 2022August 18, 2022 By NW FilbertIn Complexity, Dying, Experience, Heidegger, Living, Physics, Poetry, Uncertainty5 Comments

[or, grass in pavement; beyond black holes?; “boundaries are made to pound against” (Hejinian); after Celan, after Knausgaard) “you have to dream new ways of thinking”]

We praise the dead (remember?)

and the Mother holds them,

in catacombs,

the earth…

…beyond the black hole,

again and again and again…

The world is radiant!

Feel that?!

Continuous fomentations out

of undifferentiable chaos –

muddy unsolvables

Look! Look again!

Quit speaking.

It is here. (mysteriously)

Redolence…

…beyond the black holes,

again and again, not yet…

Where are you, real-ly,

becoming and formative,

nearly gone. To where?

Look! Look again!

Call it listening,

attention. The smallest detail

comes infinite.

You are there, also!

But where? you ask –

and can’t be found…

…just there, now,

which is – where? –

No longer. Linger.

It occurs, what might

be else.

Cheers to the wonder,

unknown! – what

is. Like being

before there’s a there.

It happens…

…beyond the strange darkness –

horizon-event, that complains,

and becomes as it passes

in strife, in the Mother,

the dying, remembering

birth-like

Mappa Mundi

On August 2, 2016 By NW FilbertIn Cosmology, Current Reading, existence, Experience, Heidegger, Knowledge, Language, Mapping, meaning, Semiotics, Writing9 Comments

mappemundi

The key question is not what a given sentence means but what it does, especially how it does whatever it does…to know is by definition to say that something is something else and be believed when one says it – Gunnar Olsson, Abysmal

Whatever we might say, we see in all that we say. – Sophocles

Only apparently is it a ‘presentation.’ – Martin Heidegger

It follows that in the world of humans any mark is better than no mark, for without categorization there is nothing at all, not even nothing at all. – Olsson, Abysmal

How small life is here / and how big nothingness. – Robert Walser, Oppressive Light

On Being Other

On June 10, 2016June 10, 2016 By NW FilbertIn Current Reading, Experience, family, friendship, Heidegger, identity, longing, Melancholy, mystery, nature, Philosophy, Poetry, Traces, Writing4 Comments

On Being Other

(after Heidegger, on Holderlin)

Broken off from origin: gods, family, homeland.

Early switched direction – turning back, against, since.

No belonging. No church, no community of mortals.

Reliant on the peaks and the abyssal.

No lasting love, but efforts toward convention –

when giving up –

even offspring, domesticity,

varietous employment,

almost friends.

No lasting commerce, always in-between,

feeling resistance and restraint,

constraints of discipline and need,

of longings, love, and lust.

Searching Other

fueled by others – across the times –

creators of the peaks and their abysses.

Oscillation.

Not yet rational, it commences –

undone in the unknowing, uncertain constant flow

generates turbulence toward an opening

or a gap, some kind of fold –

“run up hard against the unsayable.”

the closing line is a quotation from Heidegger’s

lectures on Holderlin’s poems “Germania” & “The Rhine”

Self-metaphor

On February 19, 2016February 19, 2016 By NW FilbertIn Aging, Current Reading, depression, desire, Dying, Experience, Heidegger, Maurice Blanchot, Melancholy, Philosophy, Writing1 Comment

“a writer has no proper existence”

-Maurice Blanchot-

“I can’t say I want to kill myself, but I can say I don’t want to appear”

-Catherine Malabou-

Malabou – Retreat Metaphor

(click link to read the lecture)

simply, naively, if I decide to retreat from others, to look from some seclusion, or solitude, or shelter, and if retreat has retreated from the distinction between its proper and its metaphorical meaning, what can I reach where and when I retreat? Nothing proper, no authenticity, I can’t obtain any truth, any essential way of being, because the difference between the proper and the figurative, between authenticity and inauthenticity, between truth and falsity, between what is essential and what is not have withdrawn.

-Catherine Malabou-