All “communication” participates in suicide and crime.
Funeral horror accompanies it, disgust is its sign.
And in this light evil appears – as a source of life!
By destroying in myself, in others, the integrity of being, I open myself
to communion, I attain a moral summit.

And the summit is not submission to, it is wanting evil. It is the voluntary accord with sin, crime, evil. With an endless fate that demands that for some to live, others must die.

— excerpt On Nietzsche, by Georges Bataille, p. 40

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Thanksgiving 2022 is in the rear view mirror.  A family gathering, not unlike so many others in our community, and across the nation…  What would I be willing to do, to promote, or better, to ensure the well being of my family?  I cannot imagine anything that I would not do, whatever circumstances demand…  When I step back from the insight, I can recognize how horrific that proposition truly is.  What at first blush seems perfectly moral, with a rotation of the axis of consideration — is monstrous.  Better not to think about it…

We have a ritual at our thanksgiving celebration.  Each person seated at the table reads a poem which I have selected according to parameters of their age/experience in life, etc.  An unforgettable moment in the performance of the ritual yesterday, occurred with it was the turn of our youngest family member.  She is three years old and has mastered enough language to compose simple sentences…  Mastery of reading awaits in her future.  When her turn came, she nevertheless confidently spoke according to her truth of that moment, a story of her life, of love, a child’s appropriation of the world.  She, without hint of shame, freely risked speaking her truth, — those moments for me, were unsurpassed by any other poem that was read.

If you and I avoided all risk of coloring outside the lines, we’d always repeat the script that we were given.  Only by risking the unknown, the void — does any communication take place.

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Is there a tune for today, something to transport us through this “black Friday” with the inescapable hectoring of commerce and consumption?  Indeed there is.  This 1987 anthem by Whitesnake is a truth that supplies resilience for our journey.

Here I Go Again

By Whitesnake

I don’t know where I’m going
But I sure know where I’ve been
Hanging on the promises
In songs of yesterday

And I’ve made up my mind
I ain’t wasting no more time

Here I go again
Here I go again

Though I keep searching for an answer
I never seem to find what I’m looking for
Oh, Lord, I pray
You give me strength to carry on

‘Cause I know what it means
To walk along the lonely street of dreams

Here I go again on my own
Goin’ down the only road I’ve ever known
Like a hobo I was born to walk alone

But I’ve made up my mind
I ain’t wasting no more time

Just another heart in need of rescue
Waiting on love’s sweet charity
I am gonna hold on
For the rest of my days

‘Cause I know what it means
To walk along the lonely street of dreams

Here I go again on my own
Goin’ down the only road I’ve ever known
Like a hobo I was born to walk alone
And I’ve made up my mind
I ain’t wasting no more time

But here I go again
Here I go again
Here I go again
Here I go

And I’ve made up my mind
I ain’t wasting no more time

Here I go again on my own
Goin’ down the only road I’ve ever known
Like a hobo I was born to walk alone
‘Cause I know what it means
To walk along the lonely street of dreams

Here I go again on my own
Goin’ down the only road I’ve ever known
Like a hobo I was born to walk alone
I have made up my mind
I ain’t wasting no more time

But here I go again
Here I go again
Here I go again
Here I go
Here I go again

Composed by David Coverdale, Bernie Marsden