Life will always be dwarfed by death. In fact, life arises, frail and brief, with all its attendant joys and sorrows, from death. Perhaps one could say that emptiness is the great mother, giving forth life, silently nurturing, without bias, all who thrive within her compassionate embrace. And it is within this silence, this most… Continue reading in memorium
We are in the dark, unknown, ignorant, Floating down the river of time, Rooted in the fields of space, And everything passes and nothing ceases Except, soon, ourselves When at grave’s edge We will see that we lived in the great light And never knew it. Jean Wahl tr. Michael Tweed ill. Avigdor Arikha (Nous sommes dans… Continue reading we are in the dark
One day the mouth named the never lifting mist the wordless support the imageless breath how long ago how long? Then came this other day a thousand years of desire and sorrow between sky and path grass frozen beneath a white wind and in the eyes of long histories of the blind Elsewhere an impeccable… Continue reading Song of the Golden Tree by Claude Margat
translated by Jean-Paul Auxeméry and Claude Margat
Light is not so much something that reveals, as it is itself the revelation. James Turrell
In Rain Taxi (winter 2015/16) Garrett Caples reviews my collection of writings by Roger Gilbert-Lecomte.
One’s complete sentences are attempts, as often as not, to complete an incomplete self with words. William Gass
To read Christopher Kelly’s review of The Book is a Ghost from The Spectacle click here.
The masters also extol humility above many other virtues. But I extol detachment above humility for this reason: humility can exist without detachment, but perfect detachment cannot exist without perfect humility, for perfect humility ends in the destruction of self. Now detachment comes so close to nothing, that between perfect detachment and nothing no thing… Continue reading Untitled
There are things better left untouched by words (blunt instruments). Anna Kamienska
More samples of photography, drawings, etc. can be seen at my tumblr.
Writings by Roger Gilbert-Lecomte selected and translated by yours truly. Available from Solar Luxuriance.
Gratitude, acknowledgement & remembrance for something that can so easily get lost Joseph Cornell
True poverty, the poverty of the spirit, is the realization that there is no intrinsic reason for one’s being at all. In this fundamental poverty of creatureliness, there is equality. The human person has no more claim to intrinsic being than a plant or animal, a star or a stone. Rev. Michael J. Himes &… Continue reading Untitled
An essay on film from the collection of writings by Roger Gilbert-Lecomte that i edited and translated has been published online by ENTROPY. Check it out here.
I have already had the thought that we might be able to live from renunciation, as if it might perhaps give us strength if once and for all we said goodbye to hope. Hölderlin (from a letter to Susette Gontard, Nov. 1799)
Someday, we’ll fall down and weep, and we’ll understand it all. All things. from Terence Malik’s Tree of Life
“[L]ife” is not the fascist life-force, vitalism, or physics-based analyses of “life” as events in the world. “Life,” as precisely what cannot be made present in perceptions or concepts, is an individual’s non-reflective self-awareness. As Henry often says, biology knows nothing of “life”. [E]ach I’s self-givenness, its intimacy, to itself is not a “personal achievement”;… Continue reading Untitled
Myth takes the place of mystery. The world to be built is replaced by the essential completion of its shadow. This is not the disinterestedness of contemplation but of irresponsibility. The poet exiles himself from the city. From this point of view, the value of the beautiful is relative. There is something wicked and egoist and… Continue reading Untitled
But images are so simple, so holy, that often one is afraid to describe them. Hölderlin