A message in a bottle…

To wait for three days.

A promise, to send

me a message.

I went back to my corner

to make a harbour in a raging sea

where I could admire

the view. 

friday 9th january 2009

The view (the ability to see something) is lovely from up here...
with a view to... with the hope, aim, or intention of.
vieue: feminine past participle of veoir 'see', from latin videre (consult for fuller or further information).

I know I am repeating myself
the root is the seed in the source in the essence in repetition(s)

'this is where the phenomenological doublet of resonances and repercussions must be sensetized. The resonances are dispersed on the planes of our life in the world, while the repercussions invite us to give greater depth to our own existence' - Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space

There are epic landscapes in small folds
in miniature moments,
small deaths 
(are there such things? death of a thing of a love of a person of a dream of everything is momentus, vast, imeasureable, it ripples out and expands, to howl, it wants to repeat over and over again in new to explore, unexplained ways that remind us of life, an edge, to make a sound that breaks it, you, me and all open and is siren. 

The small death; to watch it from far away, to crawl into the nook of a fold, to abandon the trying to someone else, to somewhere behind or out front, to be slowly, to be dense in movement, to find forgotten lines and let them follow you, hopelessly.

Simplicity... the terrain of abandonment to the unknown, the milieu (middle place), the moment in whatever shape it fancies to take, the liminal plane that makes no sense; it is wonder-ful and free of fancy, fuller and further. It is not about understanding, standing here.

'Liminality is an ambiguous state... the breakthrough of chaos into cosmos, of disorder into order... the milieu of creative interhuman or transhuman satisfactions and achievements.' Victor Turner, From Ritual to Theatre: the Human Seriousness of Play.


No comments:

Post a Comment