Looking Where I’d Prefer Not To See
There are,
indeed, events,
forms and oscillations
which are only open to a long
contemplative gaze, but remain
hidden to the working gaze;
things that are subtle, fleeting;
inconspicuous things, minor things [das Geringe];
that hover or retreat, which evade any violent efforts
at their capture.
The Scent of Time by Byung-chul Han, trans. by Daniel Steuer, p. 76
A woman in labor is bound to attract attention. What about a homeless woman, accompanied by a man, on the road…? That motel is a place I’d rather not be, but if I were on the road, and this parking lot had a space available to park the vehicle, well…
According to the tale written by Mark and Luke into such an austere circumstance a child was born. The advent of a newly minted human child, the labor pains come, never mind the circumstances, just hold on, nature “does what nature does” – any newborn is magnificent!
There’s no need whatsoever for angels, for shepherds following a star that moves arrow-like on a google map. All of that is excess nonsense. Birth is a risky denouement of life, the excruciating end of mother with child concealed, loved, intimate oneness, then a infant, thrown into a kaleidoscopic world, violent, abundant with possibility. And the baby, the child, is a spark, that ignites hope. All this when from a distance we gaze paying attention…
[The ‘holy family’ is staying in the supply room of Shepherd’s Motel. The tan weather-beaten vehicle belongs to them.]
“Merry” Christmas.
