Fruitless

These words invoke their own absence. Thus I’ve written them before and will continue to write them, the form hardly matters, write and erase, combine and recombine, fruitlessly as they say of certain searches, that they’re ‘fruitless’. But what of a search that’s known to be fruitless from the start, what of the search that’s a search for itself?

The mystery

One morning I awoke and knew with inexplicable conviction that I was ready. I walked into the living room, sat down before the television, pressed play on the recorder and drew up to the screen. I studied her face closely, closer than ever. I saw her face on the screen, I saw my face reflected on the screen, I saw our two faces superimposed on one another. Then my face moved back and I knew. I knew what people mean when they talk about compassion. I saw clearly what it was like to live in his world, and I felt compassion for him, mingled with joy at the realisation that I had found a way in. Cate’s grace flooded my mind like an undeserved gift. I understood that I had found my true home, that I had at last entered the mystery and left behind the wretched life of the flesh.

— From an old story

The first time

Faulkner once said, ‘The stories you tell you never write’. I don’t like to talk about what I’m going to do, because if I start to talk about it… I’m always very surprised and impressed by the directors who [are interviewed and asked], ‘What is it about?’ and then they start to talk for half an hour, and you just have to sit down and look interested! The first day of shooting, of standing in the studio or on the location, and to have to make the first picture, I have the feeling that this is the first time. It’s always the first time. And I’m always making experiments. I always try and try again, try to express things. I’ve been working now for about 30 years. I’ve made 30 or 32 pictures. But every one is the first one.

Bergman

Dictators

Q. If a dictator took over in Sweden and said, ‘You have to choose between the theatre or movies’, what would you do?

A. If a dictator took over in Sweden I think I would not exist. Because the freedom under which we work is a basis. Nobody can come to me and say. ‘Do that or do that’. Not in the theatre and not in the film. I’m my own master. And I want the actors and the technicians and the people around me to be equal. They have also to be their own masters. We have to create [the feeling of] not being afraid, not being self-conscious, feeling, in a way, happy with our work. We must feel proud that we do this thing, this object, this thing of craftsmanship.

Q. When I spoke to Orson Welles, he said that only once in his life did he have complete control of the kind that you insist on, and have had all through your career.

A. It’s absolutely impossible for me to have somebody who has nothing to do with artistic work to interfere. If he tries I ask him to go to hell.

Bergman

Kafka quotes 3

‘What is it? What is it?’ I exclaimed, still held down in bed by sleep, and stretched my arms upwards. Then I got up, still far from being conscious of the present, and with the feeling that I must thrust aside various people who were in my way, made the necessary gestures, and so at last reached the open window.

*

We are all fighting a battle. (If, attacked by the ultimate question, I reach out behind me for weapons, I cannot choose which of those weapons I will have, and even if I could choose, I should be bound to choose some that don’t belong to me, for we all have only one store of weapons.) I cannot fight a battle all of my own; if for once I believe I am independent, if for once I see nobody around me, it soon turns out that as a consequence of the general constellation, which is not immediately or even not at all intelligible to me, I have had to take this post over. This, of course, does not exclude the fact that there is a cavalry spearhead, stragglers, snipers, and all the usual and abnormal items of warfare, but there is no one who fights an independent battle. [Humiliation] of vanity? Yes, but also a necessary encouragement, and one in accordance with the truth.

*

A sunray of bliss.

*

The history of mankind is the instant between two strides taken by a traveler.

*

From outside one will always triumphantly impress theories upon the world and then fall straight into the ditch one has dug, but only from inside will one keep oneself and the world quiet and true.

*

Evil has ways of surprising one. Suddenly it turns round and says: “You have misunderstood me,” and perhaps it really is so. Evil transforms itself into your own lips, lets itself be gnawed at by your teeth, and with these new lips—no former ones fitted more smoothly to your gums—to your own amazement you utter the words of goodness.

*

A is very puffed up, he thinks he is far advanced in goodness since, obviously as an object that is ever seductive, he feels himself exposed to ever more temptations from directions hitherto unknown to him. The proper explanation is however this: that a great devil has taken up residence in him and countless throngs of smaller ones come along to serve the great one.

*

“Know thyself” [Erkenne dich selbst] does not mean “Observe thyself.” “Observe thy self” is what the Serpent says. It means: “Make yourself master of your actions.” But you are so already, you are the master of your actions. So that saying means: “Misjudge yourself! [Verkenne dich] Destroy yourself!” which is something evil – and only if one bends down very far indeed does one also hear the good in it, which is: “In order to make of yourself what you are.”

*

There was once a community of scoundrels, that is to say, they were not scoundrels, but ordinary people. They always stood by each other. If, for instance, one of them had made a stranger, someone outside their community, unhappy in some rather scoundrelly way—that is to say, again, nothing scoundrelly, but just what is usual, just the normal sort of thing—and he then confessed to the whole community, they investigated the case, judged it, imposed penances, pardoned, and the like. It was not badly meant, the interests of the individual members and of the community as a whole were strictly safeguarded, and he who was supplied with the complementary color to the color he had shown:

“What? You mean you are upset about that? But what you did was a matter of course, you acted as you were bound to. Anything else would be incomprehensible. You are in a nervous condition, that’s all. Pull yourself together and be sensible.” So they always stood by each other, and even after death they did not desert the community, but rose to heaven dancing in a ring. All in all it was a vision of the purest childlike innocence to see them fly. But since everything, when confronted with heaven, is broken up into its elements, they crashed, true slabs of rock.

*

If you were walking across a plain, had an honest intention of walking on, and yet kept regressing, then it would be a desperate matter; but since you are scrambling up a cliff, about as steep as you yourself are if seen from below, the regression can only be caused by the nature of the ground, and you must not despair.

*

Like a path in autumn: scarcely has it been swept clear when it is once more covered with dry leaves.

*

The main thing, when a sword cuts into one’s soul, is to keep a calm gaze, lose no blood, accept the coldness of the sword with the coldness of a stone. By means of the stab, after the stab, become invulnerable.

*

This is a place where I never was before: here breathing is different, and more dazzling than the sun is the radiance of a star beside it.

— Kafka, The Blue Octavo Notebooks (tr. E. Kaiser and E. Wilkins)

More Kafka quotes

Life in the desert

Everything that theology has thus far become must now be negated; and negated not simply because it is dead, but rather because theology cannot be reborn unless it passes through, and freely wills, its own death and dissolution. […] A theology that is open to the future must first exist in the present, not a present which is an extension of the past, but a present which is a culmination of the past, and hence for us a present which is a moment of vacuity and meaninglessness. […] Ascetic virtues can arise from the nausea and the ennui of life in the desert; a new ascetic may arise whose very weakness will give him the strength to say no to history. If our destiny is truly one of chaos, or if we must pass through chaos to reach our destiny, then we must abandon completely the cosmos of the past.

— Altizer & Hamilton, Radical Theology and the Death of God

Not too spiritual

We praise Him, we bless Him, we adore Him, we glorify Him, and we wonder who is that baritone across the aisle and that pretty woman on our right who smells of apple blossoms. Our bowels stir and our cod itches and we amend our prayers for the spiritual life with the hope that it will not be too spiritual.

— John Cheever, Journals

Some, in our minds, sought to think without thinking, to write without writing. What matters is to live this ‘without’, they said, very mysteriously.

— Spurious, ‘Missing Thinkers’

Cartographies of Silence

1.

A conversation begins
with a lie. And each

speaker of the so-called common language feels
the ice-floe split, the drift apart

as if powerless, as if up against
a force of nature

A poem can begin
with a lie. And be torn up.

A conversation has other laws
recharges itself with its own

false energy, cannot be torn
up. Infiltrates our blood. Repeats itself.

Inscribes with its unreturning stylus
the isolation it denies.

2.

The classical music station
playing hour upon hour in the apartment

the picking up and picking up
and again picking up the telephone

The syllables uttering
the old script over and over

The loneliness of the liar
living in the formal network of the lie

twisting the dials to drown the terror
beneath the unsaid word

3.

The technology of silence
The rituals, etiquette

the blurring of terms
silence not absence

of words or music or even
raw sounds

Silence can be a plan
rigorously executed

the blueprint of a life

It is a presence
it has a history a form

Do not confuse it
with any kind of absence

4.

How calm, how inoffensive these words
begin to seem to me

though begun in grief and anger
Can I break through this film of the abstract

without wounding myself or you
there is enough pain here

This is why the classical of the jazz music station plays?
to give a ground of meaning to our pain?

5.

The silence strips bare:
In Dreyer’s Passion of Joan

Falconetti’s face, hair shorn, a great geography
mutely surveyed by the camera

If there were a poetry where this could happen
not as blank space or as words

stretched like skin over meanings of a night through which two people
have talked till dawn.

6.

The scream
of an illegitimate voice

It has ceased to hear itself, therefore
it asks itself

How do I exist?

This was the silence I wanted to break in you
I had questions but you would not answer

I had answers but you could not use them
The is useless to you and perhaps to others

7.

It was an old theme even for me:
Language cannot do everything-

chalk it on the walls where the dead poets
lie in their mausoleums

If at the will of the poet the poem
could turn into a thing

a granite flank laid bare, a lifted head
alight with dew

If it could simply look you in the face
with naked eyeballs, not letting you turn

till you, and I who long to make this thing,
were finally clarified together in its stare

8.

No. Let me have this dust,
these pale clouds dourly lingering, these words

moving with ferocious accuracy
like the blind child’s fingers

or the newborn infant’s mouth
violent with hunger

No one can give me, I have long ago
taken this method

whether of bran pouring from the loose-woven sack
or of the bunsen-flame turned low and blue

If from time to time I envy
the pure annunciation to the eye

the visio beatifica
if from time to time I long to turn

like the Eleusinian hierophant
holding up a single ear of grain

for the return to the concrete and everlasting world
what in fact I keep choosing

are these words, these whispers, conversations
from which time after time the truth breaks moist and green.

— Adrienne Rich

The name

Through the name of God we can orient our attention towards the true God, situated beyond our reach, not conceived. Without this gift, we would only have a false earthly God, conceivable by us. Only this name allows us to have a Father who is in a heaven that we know nothing about.

Weil (via here)