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Everyone carries a room about inside him. This fact can even be proved by means of the sense of hearing. If someone walks fast and one pricks up one's ears and listens, say in the night, when everything round about is quiet, one hears, for instance, the rattling of a mirror not quite firmly fastened to the wall.
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– Kafka
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Monthly Archives: July 2024
The holy
I wonder whether we will recognize it once more?
Hölderlin’s poetry is a destiny for us. It is waiting for the moment when the mortals will respond to it.
What does Hölderlin’s poetry say? Its crucial word is: the holy.
This word speaks about the flight of the gods. It says that the gods, who have fled, are saving us until we are inclined and able to dwell near them. This site is the proper place of being at home. Therefore, it remains necessary to prepare for the sojourn in this nearness. Thus we take the first step on the path that leads us there, where we respond properly to the destiny that is Hölderlin’s poetry. In this way we arrive only at the place of the poetic word [Wortort] in which ‘the god of gods’ perhaps appears.
For on its own, no human calculation and design [Machen] can bring forth a turning [Wende] in the world’s present condition. Especially not because human design is already formed by this very condition of the world and has fallen prey to it. How then could it still gain control over it?
Hölderlin’s poetry holds a destiny for us. It is waiting for the moment when we mortals will respond to it. The response leads the way towards a coming near the place of the gods, who have fled; that means into the place of light, which saves us.
Yet, how should we recognize and remember all this? By listening to Hölderlin’s poetry.
[…]
The first guiding word reads:
‘Everything is intimately interrelated [innig].’
This means: One is intimately appropriated [vereignet] to the other, but in such a way that each thereby remains in its own proper domain: gods and men, earth and heaven. Intimate interrelatedness [Innigkeit] does not mean a merging and effacing of differences. Intimate interrelatedness means the belonging together of the unfamiliar, the sway of strangeness, and the claim of reserve [Scheu].
The second guiding word is a question:
‘How do I render thanks?’
Thanking is the awe-inspiring, reverential, accepting remembrance [Andenken] of what was granted, and it is only a sign pointing towards the vicinity of the fleeing gods, who are saving us.
The third guiding word is:
‘It can be perceived by a deep testing.’
The testing must have been performed ‘on one’s knees’. Wilfulness has to humble itself and disappear. Only one thing is incumbent on thought and meditation: to think ahead of poetry in order to give way to it. By listening repeatedly, we become better at listening. […]
- Heidegger, letter, 1963, Zollikon Seminars: Protocols, Conversations, Letters (tr. Mayr and Askay)
Perish and rise up again
It is one of the clichés of our time that we all have our stories to tell. But Kafka tells us here that such stories are always self-serving, created by us to protect ourselves from reality and out of the desire to “shine” […] In “The Judgment” he tells a story about the nature of stories and dramatizes a ritual of exorcism. […] By so doing he saves both himself and storytelling. Instead of seeing the excessive gestures of his youth as ridiculous and shameful, he builds a drama out of excessive gestures: “For everything, for the strangest fancies, there waits a great fire in which they perish and rise up again.” (Recall the fire he felt he had to find within himself because it would never be provided by the world, not even by his family.) He has discovered that while words are far more recalcitrant than drawing, it is only in the art of words that narrative can be produced and can then turn against itself and uncover its corrupt origins and motivations. By so doing it reveals its beneficent and healing power: the power to speak the truth about our desires and the world of others. By writing stories that dramatize writing and the fantasies of the imagination and then dramatizing their destruction, he escapes the realm of fantasy, of solipsism, and finds at last that “description in which every word would be linked to my life, which I would draw to my heart and which would transport me out of myself” for which the early diaries show him so feverishly searching. Of course the healing lasts only as long as the moment of writing, and so has to be fought for and found afresh every day. But that is the path that has opened itself up to him.
— Josipovici (via here)
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Posted in Gabriel Josipovici, Kafka
Ballade vom preussischen Ikarus
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Posted in Wolf Biermann