On the hardest thing

Never forget that life can only be nobly inspired and rightly lived if you take it bravely and gallantly, as a splendid adventure in which you are setting out into an unknown country, to meet many a joy, to find many a comrade, to win and lose many a battle.
- Annie Besant

Here's a youtube video.

[For those who don't know, I have a summer job in Ohio doing architect stuff.]

So, four days into a new job - the job itself is familiar, though some parts are new. The great source of intrigue is the people. Observing them, and observing myself, and the interactions. Mostly I hang back and watch. Everything about me is in plain sight - for those who know what they're looking for. I've had a few interactions and conversations whose nature rather surprised me, and I sure didn't start them.

I guess that's a comment and an observation. I'm still learning to understand it. Connection has been a central topic for me over the last months, so it's fascinating and beautiful to move from relative isolation, in terms of relationships with other adults, to relative population.

I keep looking for this quote and returning to it. It's in C.S. Lewis - Surprised by Joy.

It's about the distinction between enjoyment and contemplation. It's on 217-218. Maybe now I'll be able to find it again more easily. I got lucky finding it this time.

‘ I read in Alexander’s Space Time and Deity his theory of “Enjoyment” and “Contemplation.” These are technical terms in Alexander’s philosophy; “Enjoyment” has nothing to do with pleasure, nor “Contemplation” with the contemplative life. When you see a table you “enjoy” the act of seeing and “contemplate’ the table… In bereavement you contemplate the beloved and the beloved’s death and, in Alexander’s sense, “enjoy” the loneliness and grief; but a psychologist, if he were considering you as a case of melancholia, would be contemplating your grief and enjoying philosophy. ‘

…It seemed to me self-evident that one essential property of love, hate, fear, hope, or desire was attention to their object. To cease thinking about or attending to the woman is, so far, to cease loving; to cease thinking about or attending to the dreaded thing is, so far, to cease being afraid… In other words the enjoyment and the contemplation of our inner activities are incompatible. You cannot hope and also think about hoping at the same moment; for in hope we look to hope’s object and we interrupt this by (so to speak) turning round to look at the hope itself. Of course the two activities can and do alternate with great rapidity; but they are distinct and incompatible. ‘

Five years.

It's been just over five years since my world turned upside down. For me it's hard and a little embarrassing to go back and read what I wrote of that experience. Whether the writing is obtuse or clear, it is hard to see how much it lays bare. Of that particular shift itself: I have thought of other ways of expressing it, from time to time. Expectation no longer forming my reality. Thus, loss of everything I was attached to, everything I held to. Except, at the time, God - but that slipped away, too. But loss, loneliness, and only ever always falling. I'm five years more accustomed to the sense of it.

It's coming up on five years since I declared love to be my highest priority:

The argument is this: love comes first. I don't mean sissy love from afar without getting our hands dirty. I mean gritty, real, messy, beautiful, difficult love. (I could more easily show you than tell you, but this is a blog; please forgive my words for falling short.) Doing what Christ did in coming to earth. Sitting down and caring for people with no agenda whatsoever. To be one of those people whose qualities I mentioned in an earlier post:

... approachable, accepting, slow to anger, slow to judge, quick to pardon, seeking to understand, seeking to love, seeking to do right. They create a space where the tide of fear is held back, where no secret is too dark, no failure too deep, where any uncertainty is permitted. Where our humanity can be laid bare without shame or judgment.

Five years later, looking at my own writing: it's strong, vulnerable, and true. Five years. My aim was unerring. I still seek to be that love, and could say it no better now. Love is hard. Love is easy.

New year, same old...

Well, I'm still attached to the idea of my people continuing to be alive. Too many close calls this year; even one is one too many.

Listening to Adyashanti while taping and mudding drywall - an activity which, by the way, is quite relaxing. At least for me. He remains good stuff, for me - I know I've heard all these recordings before, and I still find new things in them, or - they find me where I am. Pick your subject-object relationship.

The idea that one oughtn't be attached - just another idea to be attached to.

Distinction

"What you feel and what things are aren't the same." - Donald Judd

I had no idea I'd find a kindred spirit in Judd, but I have. It started innocently enough, in a book recommendation, Spiral Jetta. The author visits Judd's work in Marfa, and her discussion of one of his installations leads me to think that in Judd I may find some clues and strategies for installing my own work. But there the fatal turn: in an academic moment, I borrow a book of essays (as opposed to pictures) from the library ("Donald Judd," edited by Nicholas Serota), on the premise that it is important not merely to reappropriate Judd's installation methods but to understand his reasoning.

In reading, I am finding that, first and foremost, Judd is an advocate of careful and conscious experience. Therein the kindredness.

So here we are. While I remain uncertain of the art/object status of my work (perhaps Fried will shed some light on this in his essay "Art and Objecthood," which I have also obtained) I am not sure of the importance of the distinction. I want to better understand how to express where I stand, not only for the sake of articulate apologia in critique, but also to elucidate my own awareness.

Also this week: I viewed photos of Marina Abromovic's work, after a friend's description of many of the works in her recent retrospective in New York elicited from me a somewhat incredulous response. I regret the response, for experiencing the recount spoke of the strength and impact of the work. But everything was lost in the physical description. The description is a handle, a way to refer to the work such that others understand the reference. But the work must be experienced.

Training Wheels

Now is the time to know
That all that you do is sacred.

Now, why not consider
A lasting truce with yourself and God.

Now is the time to understand
That all your ideas of right and wrong
Were just a child's training wheels
To be laid aside
When you finally live
With veracity
And love.
- Hafiz