inspired by kiefer – and a serendipitous find in a local charity shop – i’ve been reading about lillith. lillith the she demon fabled to haunt the ruined cities.
demons and ghosts seem very real to me, and ruins i find inspiring – a lot of people find ruins inspiring – peculiar structures. like the hand peeling back a coffin lid from the inside; in those spanish blind dead films. whether it be ancient or contemporaneous ruination. (question: can one be analogous of the other? now we document the destruction of living structures the digital arenas fill with ruin.
and we are haunted; our lives and our civilisations are broken apart constantly before us and ghosts loom over us)
like fossils of cultures.
when is culture not imposed?
Churn water to get your butter,
And squeeze a bit of stone and hope for honey;
Or else your fevered frame perhaps you’d cool,
Washed in the waves of a mirage’s pool?
Perhaps you’d rather try to get a drink
Milking that worn-out she-ass? What do you think?
It’s not so foolish as to earn the money
To live upon, by service to an utter
Knave and fool.
Amura (translated by John Brough)
A Message to the Universe by Kazuo Ohno, 1998:
“On the verge of death one revisits the joyful moments of a lifetime.
One’s eyes are opened wide-gazing into the palm, seeing death, life, joy and sorrow with a sense of tranquillity.
This daily studying of the soul, is this the beginning of the journey ?
I sit bewildered in the playground of the dead. Here I wish to dance and dance and dance and dance, the life of the wild grass.
I see the wild grass, I am the wild grass, I become one with the universe. That metamorphosis is the cosmology and studying of the soul.
In the abundance of nature I see the foundation of dance. Is this because my soul wants to physically touch the truth ?
When my mother was dying I caressed her hair all night long without being able to speak one word of comfort. Afterwards, I realized that I was not taking care of her, but that she was taking care of me.
The palms of my mother’s hands are precious wild grass to me.
I wish to dance the dance of wild grass to the utmost of my heart.”
When I’m driving, I sometimes turn on the radio and I find very often that what I’m listening to is a discussion of sports. These are telephone conversations. People call in and have long and intricate discussions, and it’s plain that quite a high degree of thought and analysis is going into that. People know a tremendous amount. They know all sorts of complicated details and enter into far-reaching discussion about whether the coach made the right decision yesterday and so on. These are ordinary people, not professionals, who are applying their intelligence and analytic skills in these areas and accumulating quite a lot of knowledge and, for all I know, understanding.
the autodiktat generally seems to look for connections in the world which seem to be ridiculous to the seasoned academic. Not to say that Colin Wilson wasn’t occasionally ridiculous; but that seemed to have more to do with his own myth building (or narcissism? i didn’t get to meet him so i don’t know). colin wilson is an example. but i wonder at why it is terry eagelton pours scorn on the man for looking for links amongst great men.
s’not like serious academia doesn’t myth build.