Mammalian Days

Let's!

There we two, content, / happy in being together, speaking little, perhaps not a word.

And Let flatness light up in volume,

Some women get erased a little at a time, some all at once. Some reappear. Every woman who appears wrestles with the forces that would have her disappear. She struggles with the forces that would tell her story for her, or write her out of the story, the genealogy, the rights of man, the rule of law. The ability to tell your own story, in words or images, is already a victory, already a revolt.

.... and I should like to ask you, as best I can, dear Sir, to be patient towards all that is unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms, like books written in a foreign tongue.

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.

A lot of people refuse to do things because they don't want to go naked, don't want to go without guarantee. But that's what's got to happen. You go naked until you die

Still I -and nobody farther from everything than I- keep tuning in and broadcasting. Ghosts, echoes, reflections, remains of voices and landscapes. I cannot help it, nobody could figure it out; but, somehow, I stay on, showing all programs at the same time, all episodes of all seasons, trying to locate the only episode I am interested in. But it is not an easy task. They are a lot, too many chapters. And the one I am looking for is neither among the most interesting ones, nor is it the most successful.

Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom

It is of the essence of life that it does not begin here or end there, or connect a point of origin with a final destination, but rather that it keeps on going, finding a way through the myriad of things that form, persist and break up in its currents. Life, in short, is a movement of opening, not of closure.

It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity.