It’s December, and I’m writing outside, lucky by so many counts.
- It’s December, and 45°
- My partner in love and life instills health and wellness in me
- I’m writing
- James is serving me coffee, ice water and double greyhounds enabling me to work without interruption
I’m in what you might call a “Cusp Area.”
The present is always a liminal space. I am a few days away from completing a Master’s degree in Library & Information Management, and months away from embarking on a PhD in Media & Communication coupled to the Arts at a University in Switzerland.
I work very part-time (10-20 hours / week) for the United States Postal Service, attend regular psychotherapy sessions, parent 4 children, read and write as much as I can, cook and clean a LOT, and spend as much time as I can with my beloved (a brilliant, gorgeous, amazing, resourceful, intelligent and creative human).
I rest very little.
We (my immediate family) will not survive January on my income (sans school loans). Cusp.
Change is imminent, and yet NEVER is NOT.
Every day relationships morph. What could be termed “stability” in life must be radically redefined to have any resemblance or “fit” to reality – which is always, ALWAYS in enormous, factually ubiquitous, tremendous FLUX.
There is something like “similarity” – of persons, circumstances, situations, emotions, experiences… which we occasionally tag “familiar” or “repetition,” (providing a modicum of regularity, “consistency,” “normativity”) but none of it, EVER!! – is “identical,” “same,” “repeated.” Not even ourselves, one “moment” to the next (i.e. in spans of cursive time – what seems utterly continuous is still difference – otherwise could not be noticed).
I am writing this in cursive in attempts toward continuities of form and content. And yet there is vast uniqueness with each stroke. “Distance,” difference, change.
I delight in working in language – a symbology for expressing experience – a fabric, social set and structure – a shared and flexibly rule-bound medium.
Possessing or harboring…containing vast incommunicable DIFFERENCES – between ethnicities, cultures, geographies, genders, contents, shapes, habits, practices, processes…REALITIES. And yet useable. Useful.
I am writing outside in December, in Kansas, in the United States of America, in cursive, in English, in black ball-point ink, in a ruled soft-covered notebook, in 2014, in attempts partially to think, to recount, to visualize, to express, to extend, to discover, remember, critique, perceive, view… understand a curious unstoppable flow –
The Experience of Being a Living Organism
with billions of particularities – both structures and substance, arrangement and order, experience and resources, habits, capacities, learning, abilities, perceptions, interpretations, emotions…
THIS kind, type, genus, species, instance, sort, occurrence, happening of this one/many, living (active, interactive, interacting, linked, dependent, individual, functioning) THING.
Differently now and now and NOW.
I cannot curtail difference. I can hypothesize similarities. I have agency, but an energy and forcefulness utterly dependent and constrained by countless systems, substances, processes and constituents.
I have a kind of power – corralled by everything within and around me. I am at the mercy of – the support and boundary of – all else + the combinatory elements and activities of WHAT I exist of and the rest of existings.
I do not fool myself into thinking I am a cause or blame, and yet I am utterly response – able / – ible. “My” interactions and interactivities, are mine / “me” / THIS.
THIS & THAT, Yin/Yang, Individual/Environment, “self”/”other”, – difference without discontinuity, ever in exchange: molecularly, actively, REALLY, and wholly.
EXISTENCE IS THE CUSP.
I love while / as / if / because / in spite of (or in contradistinction to) I am loved.
I move with / against / into / around / while / within / because of / in distinction from, possible movements, contents, and affordances / constraints of everything about / within / around me.
I “exist” (stand-out) because I am, in a swarm, a sea, of existences, existings.
I have no other chances to be…
…outside of my surrounds.
I am. Within a lifeworld. Without which – I am not.
And still, “I am.” Singular / plural. Similar across space-time, an appearance and occurrence of similarity marked by difference.
The safest expression (for one seeking at “truths” or reliable, testable regularities) is:
We, the living.
I thank you.