Saturday, March 16, 2013

Is Being being-called?

Allie Light said that everything transcends what the reality of it is. You either learn about metaphor, or you go mad. (Cf. Thorazine Shuffle)

"Silence is referee!" I wrote to the university dean. This, for me, is the metaphor.

What does silence point to?

What is its discerning gaze seeing?

What is it calling?

Is Being being-called?

I end there.

With what-is here.

Friday, March 15, 2013

Silence -- an intimate unknowing

With his wife dead and buried the elderly man seems to find only half the poem readable. The second half of poem loses its words in his loneliness.
There is an interesting word used by the late Heidegger, which is not used in everyday German, it is 'Erschweigen', the preposition 'Er' means usually: making something more intensively (I need help from Michael Eldred now! my English is very poor...), and is different, for instance, from 'Verschweigen' (that means: keeping something for yourself that you should have said) and it is different from 'just' 'schweigen' (not talking). So 'erschweigen' takes place in a dialogue, such as the one between Heidegger and the japanese, where both talk to each other 'on' something without making an 'object' of it. In this dialogue Heidegger makes a difference between talking 'about' (ueber) and talking from (von). Language, not being an object, can only be approached if we talk 'from' it. This is a distinction you can find in Wittgenstein in his famous dictum:Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darueber muss man schweigen.                                                            ["Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must remain silent."]
(Online response by Rafeal Capurro, 1997,,)
 Silence is referee.

There's the metaphor.

Heidegger wrote "Die Sprache spricht, nichts der Mensch" (Language speaks, not humans.)  

Thursday, March 14, 2013

See what you say; say what you see: be spoken sight

How are we to understand the following sentence:
I    am    creating    God.

Who is speaking?

Who is
what is

Choose to see this differently.

Become the wording now!

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Buona fortuna


Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Would only...

Epikeia. It is Greek. It translates, literally, as unassignable, uncountable. Aristotle, then Aquinas, considered it a virtue. Know the law, break the law; for a more universal good, a more important accomplishment, a kinder truth.

There's a pause on world stage.
All actors freeze in place.
A pope is under election.
Could there be any meaningful change?
Is the Christ-reality a vague moribund memory or a contemporary living force?

Could the scuttle-threatened empty barque on vast desolate sea be salvaged, re-timbered, sanded fine and put to use again to buoy hearts and spirits in once but now forgotten joy-in-truth, service, and retrieved love?
Does this transition matter?
Bakerwoman God
Bakerwoman God,
I am your living bread.
Strong, brown Bakerwoman God,
I am your low, soft, and being-shaped loaf.
I am your rising bread,
well-kneaded by some divine
and knotty pair of knuckles,
by your warm earth hands.
I am bread well-kneaded.
Put me in fire, Bakerwoman God,
put me in your own bright fire.
I am warm, warm as you from fire.
I am white and gold, soft and hard,
brown and round.
I am so warm from fire.
Break me, Bakerwoman God.
I am broken under your caring Word.
Drop me in your special juice in pieces.
Drop me in your blood.
Drunken me in the great red flood.
Self-giving chalice swallow me.
My skin shines in the divine wine.
My face is cup-covered and I drown.
I fall up
in a red pool
in a gold world
where your warm
sunskin hand
is there to catch
and hold me.
Bakerwoman God,
remake me.
(Poem by Alla Renee Bozarth, from, Womanpriest: A Personal Odyssey, Paulist Press 1978, rev. ed. Luramedia 1988, distributed by Wisdom House)
Would only. . .

Monday, March 11, 2013

At end

Joe-Pete stops by.

He's beginning anew.

Sounds right!

being, rolled away

We have, the song said, all been here before.

Yet, everything is happening for the first time.

As in the religious story: The stone is being rolled away. Many wish to say the resurrection was a once and forever historical event. Today, here, at this blink of awareness, the stone is "being" itself rolling away.

Rolling away what? From where?

History disappears.

There is only myth -- story -- which begins, "In the beginning..." and concludes, "Ever after."

But what if there really is only origin? And never conclusion? Only being itself? And that, withdrawing, dropping into emptiness? Would there be found each thing as itself?

The stone is, being, rolled away.

This life is a cave, a tomb to some, enclosing and stifling. Yet, to others, this life is a sunny breeze ascending a sweet mountain.

The mind of Christ is emptying itself. It is being emptied of all that is not itself, which is itself being emptied.

What remains?

What is there is what is here and everywhere.

Think of the resurrection as the kenotic (self-emptying) mind which is beyond birth and death.

Until such is our aware home-ground, we slog along, hastily, with busy hands, continuously readying our demise, toward our going, our being rolled away. 

We're meant to...go.

let it go - the
smashed word broken
open vow or
the oath cracked length
wise - let it go it
was sworn to
let them go - the
truthful liars and
the false fair friends
and the boths and
neithers - you must let them go they
were born
to go
let all go - the
big small middling
tall bigger really
the biggest and all
things - let all go

so comes love

(~ e. e. cummings ~ Complete Poems 1904-1962) 

I have nowhere to go. Nothing to do. No-one to be.

So, what's my hurry? The season of careful looking is upon us.

Festina lente!
...   Note: 
[Festina lente or σπεῦδε βραδέως (speude bradeos) is a classical adage and oxymoron meaning "make haste slowly" or "more haste, less speed".]

Sunday, March 10, 2013


There's not much time left.
What do you mean?
I mean, there's not much time left.
Something's going to end?
No, nothing's going to end.

What time will this occur?
No time left.
It's already happened.
I don't see anything different.