Things in the World LO25479

From: ACampnona@aol.com
Date: 10/16/00


S~
My love;-)

"It is memory [~ and not expectation ~] of death that gives unity and
wholeness to human existence."
Arandt (B:033191)

you write,

>My love, Are you struggling through hard times? S~ xo

What an interesting formulae;-)

NO.

But, I do struggle to see why a string of even fake 'pedant pearls' is
more highly valued than one single 'irreversible caterpillar'.

It near breaks my heart.

I think I am trying to 'turn a corner' Sajeela.

Let me share a vision with you from a early morning trip in SW France.

We'd got up early to as to have a run (to the bridge) and then a swim, then
go up to the village, a 'Bastide town' (fortified) I ought properly to call
it. "Monpazier" is reckoned to be one among the most beautiful ancient
fortress towns in France. As we rose, approaching the hill that it is set up
on, we could see below in the valley just as it appeared the 'strange
attractors' peculiar to that landscape;-) and time of day and temperature
gradient;-). Into the first long road; around the first sharp corner in the
distance I saw a little boy with what appeared to be a remote controlled
(toy)...car, you know the things...anyhow, as we approached closer to this
unlikely sight (-the town is generally devoid of any children that age;-) and
especially at that time of day, even still I believed my eyes. But we got so
close the image changed itself into an old man dragging a small box on
wheels...well, like a tiny chariot. I thought how strange, the old man has
made himself some cobbled together 'pram' with which to go to the bakery and
general stores to collect his needful things for just the day, as they tend
to do in that part of the world. At last we passed him by with due care and
respect and behold;-) at the front end of this unique chariot was a small
dog, a terrier, not dissimilar to dear old "Bucket". It seems that the dog's
'back end' had 'given way' to entropy production's inevitable consequences
and the solution to this 'problem' was that the man should 'turn;-)'
temporarily his old companion into a 'half machine'.
And I thought of cars and 'caritas' and 'common destinations' and St.
Augustine and St. Francis and St. Benedict and all the children in the world
and all the old people in the world and all the things in the world and the
now out of past and present
I came home and sat in the back of the house.
Sajeela, the rear room of the house was built later than the original by an
artist (potter) who previously owned it. Let's say that the ex-studio 'room'
is four meters deep and fifteen meters long, every centimeter minus the
frames of connection is glass, and below the elevation of this house the view
is, if you will, a panorama of ten thousand trees, some quarter mile distance
sweeping some 200 plus degrees of vision, slowly rising up into the sky from
the meadow valley bottom, full of small headed wild flower and long meadow
grasses and above, soaring only two things, great birds like Buzzards and
sent into an adjacent hill side a perfectly formed Chateau turret, you know
the type;-)

Well, then a zillion thoughts crowded my mind...and I am both wresting and
resting in between all of them...
I open the book I took with me..
" Reification and materialization, without which no thought can become a
tangible thing, is always paid for, and that price is life itself. It is
always the 'dead letter' in which the 'living spirit' must survive, a
deadness from which it can be rescued only when the 'dead letter' comes again
into contact with a life willing to resurrect it. Though this resurrection of
the dead shares with all living things that it, too, will die again."

What am I saying?

I am trying to say that I am trying to find my way to 'carry' that 'dying
thing' my apportioned distance. I meanwhile looking through and toward
reflected by my thinking...

The visions?

" It is as though worldly stability has become transparent in the
permanence (of the vision), so that a premonition of immortality, not the
immortality of the soul or of life but of something immortal achieved by
mortal hands, has become tangibly present, to shine and to be seen, to
sound and to be heard, to speak and to be read."

I am re-thinking many thoughts.

And as for 'symbols' Sajeela.

The end is closed (close;-) to the inception...remaining through
condensation;-) like a tear;-))))))) - "it is as though language (when)
spoken in utmost density and concentration were poetic in itself."

And the valleys 'strange attractor'?

The 'river' of remembrance, Mnemosyne.

Vaporous arising. Like thought, falling.

Deep thinking.

A lost Art.

Poetry (speaking, writing) and Art may be walking together and the lesser
being the greater among the parts that form the whole. "Old men forget. ";-)
(Shakespeare)

All things flow. So be it.

Then, when I might stop to write or paint or speak 'thinking' stops being
the becoming it desires to be;-)

I am learning for myself the 'art' of becoming 'useless' and in that
'aimlessness' I hope to gain some insight.

A halo?

St Augustine wrote in part,

"They attempt to grasp eternal things, but their heart flutters among the
changing things of past and future and is still futile. Who will catch
hold of it? And make it fast so that it stands firm for a little while,
and for a little while may seize the splendour of eternity standing still
forever, and compare this with the times that never stand still, and see
that it is without comparison? -snip;-) And let every heart see how every
past is propelled out of the future, and every future follows from the
past and all the past and the future are created and flow out of what is
ever present."

I would hope for many, uncountable more children called 'Agape' and
'Caritas'; or even Riverose?

Love to you both.

There, a circle within a square.

Andrew

x

-- 

ACampnona@aol.com

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