back from tx

[back from the ‘pataphysics silent retreat in tx – ‘pata such a great team. some reflections from the workshops]


Every time we open our eyes we see ten thousand things. We divide them – for practical purposes, to foreground, middle-ground and background, which corresponds roughly to past, present, future – or: memory, understanding and will [the deer on the cliff don’t know what to do about their thirst and all that water, below] The past is what is most available to us, and we may or may not use it. The present is what we are working with, when see – we cross the threshold of memory and work with the present in memory’s house. The present is at a spiritual or conceptual distance or enclosure, as if slightly fallen, filling with but not filled with grace. The future is what we may or may not deal with through expansive energy. Interestingly, the future – there – is background, ahead of us in some ways and behind us (invisible) in others.


What kind of play do I plan when I plan plays? Is this plan a response to an abstract idea of what a play is? Or can the writing come from the writing? To discover writing in the act of writing rather than dreaming about writing. Concerned on the whole about bloviation. How to circumvent habit: read more Lorca and the biography of St. Francis.


St. Bernard: “Create purity in my heart, for not only do vain thoughts occupy it and ugly ones sully it, but also bitter thoughts scatter it, and I am often so distressed by some insult that my heart is constrained by huge bundles of thoughts and I am thrown from one side to another, blind and anxious, imagining vengeance for the injury and how to find an opportunity to avenge myself. I multiply schemes and do nothing else in my heart but finish off quarrels I cannot end in fact. I do not see those present and contradict the ones absent. I insult others within myself and imagine myself insulted, and thus offended… There is no one to contradict me so I continue quarrelling in my heart and go about imagining the ambushes plotted by my envious enemies and tactics for counterattacking, but since no dispute exists, I labor like a lawyer without a case, spending the day entirely in idleness and the night in thought. Worn out by this illicit thinking, I am slow to do the things that might benefit me… When in fact I fast, in thought I eat, or when quiet, I chatter in my mind, when my appearance is serene, I rage within, and though my body is at rest, my soul is scurrying about here and there.”

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