Beating Against The Window
Man is a fly behind a window
and the time that he passes in beating against the window
is the most human,
being the most rebellious.
–excerpt On Nietzsche, Notes, page 287 by Georges Bataille
Sadness, tinged with some grief this morning. Loss is more or less, greater and lesser, equivalent to life. I do not mean life as an abstract construct, one concept among others. Living is a slow retreat, a prayer for courage when you know that your losses are real.
Not insignificant as far as I am concerned, my grand daughter fell a short distance to the floor in the course of our play last night. As I write she is in the company of her two moms at a nearby Immediate Care Center. She has an injury to her arm. I stare at the glowing screen wishing that I had acted more prudently, careful enough to have prevented the fall.
There is the death of thousands in Turkey, in Syria exacerbated no doubt by the action/inaction of the rulers of those countries. Not so long ago, a good friend died. Could I have acted to change the course of that loss, to delay his passing for a few precious months … To indict yourself or others, especially those who you disapprove — with a hypothesis, is beside the point. What if? Or could I have? Threads of tragedy are part of the weave of life, an aspect of conscious existence. More consciousness and more awareness, a greater intensity of pain… and joy.
This tune is necessary for such a day as this. On occasion when the music rotation on the radio presents Put A Little Love In Your Heart by Jackie DeShannon, I feel the joyous abandon, a full throttle commitment to your course of life, with no regrets, with no hesitation. A musical display of freedom, one that ripples as an expanding wave…
