Censor the body and you censor breath and speech at the same time. Write your self. Your body must be heard. Only then will the immense resources of the unconscious spring forth. p. 880 To write and thus to forge for herself the anti-logos weapon. To become at will the taker and initiator, for…
The mother, too, is a metaphor. It is necessary and sufficient that the best of herself be given to woman by another woman for her to be able to love herself and return in love the body that was “born” to her. Touch me, caress me, you the living no-name, give me my self…
Monday, glorious Monday morning… Awaking late, I discovered a day of sunlight softly filtered by a milky-blue sky. For mid-August, today the 15th, air temperature is delightfully pleasant. Why don’t I return to the backyard, lay down in the grass, to gaze at the sky in utter bliss? I feel that I should, or…
A few minutes until 7AM, and the streets of Geneva were silent, traffic on State Street was scarce. A rare sensation of quiescence on a Sunday morning in this river town. It will not last. I begin to write, the raucous sound of the bean grinding machine, the animated conversation of baristas behind the…
Saturday morning dawns, sunny and temperate — a perfect mid-summer day for the Midwest. There’s no possible summation of the state of things, — no matter the iphone news feed. The extremes attract our attention as the fight or flight trigger is deep, encoded, that instinct for survival yet necessary, even if I cannot…
All life, and consequently the life of history, is made up of simple moments, each of them relatively undetermined in respect to the previous one, so that in it reality hesitates, walks up and down, and is uncertain whether to decide for one or other of various possibilities. …this metaphysical hesitancy which gives to…
…the individual finds himself already with a stock of ideas. He decides to content himself with them and to consider himself intellectually complete. As he feels the lack of nothing outside himself, he settles down definitely amid his mental furniture. Such is the mechanism of self-obliteration. The mass-man regards himself as perfect. …it never…
I walked in the woods a day after the rain. Several weeks have passed since I last visited. I was delighted at the change, the head-high foliage, the exuberance of mid summer’s transformation of growth. I took some photos of wild flowers. Consider — everything that grows in the marsh belongs where it grows… …
Sunshine! Much needed rain is followed by a morning of sunlight. Often I take Nature for granted. Somehow it doesn’t come to mind that the most basic needs and pleasures of my life directly depends on the soil, upon moisture and light in proper measure. No application of technology can possibly counter the inexorable…
A persistent rain is falling. I am happy to see it. Trees will benefit from taking a deep drink of fresh water. These mornings are rare. They are a precious cue to reflection about the kid who still lives within. You know, — that kid who “hated” rain days, always longed to be out-of-doors,…
