avoiding autobiography

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I have no idea how many letters and emails I’ve done that contain passages which could be usefully extracted for use elsewhere.

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autumn leaves

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Welcome, lovely solitude for longer, easier work times, since the college kids (undergrads) are gone from neighborhood ambiance for a whole month.

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Dec. 16

Days go by… “saga of crafting life” (below) resulted from dwelling with a singer’s particular song which was evidently in the wake of a broken love. My non sequiturs respond to specific points in her song.

My occasioned posting on Heidegger, “engaged being,“ coincidently complements my above pretense of sagacity.

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saga of crafting life

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to a heart-healing folk singer in Kentucky

whose music is renewing her—and 

she also thinks of California

The myths are too many to gather into a singular splendor of hope and home. Though myth itself is easily disrobed as such, longing for grand light never wanes.

We grow into a horizon that nevertheless recedes, as more new horizon—which is good: We’re drawn to grow on in our path.

I don’t feel that being more careful is often the way to gain more enlightenment. We need risk. It’s a challenge of balance: creative solitude, love for others—wanting to be loved for doing one’s best
to flourish in the balancing act: one’s life alone duly honored; life with “you” duly loved.

bibliophilc confession

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I was a teenage Klein Bottle.

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in honor of letters

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Today is the 75th anniversary of the day, 1946, when Jean Beaufret sent his questions to Heidegger, which resulted in the “Letter on Humanism.”

I want to write to that.

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for your consideration...

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…among considerations.

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for a Literary university in a democratic ecology

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tropography, tropogeny, tropology...

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to love you

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—deeply would arise from intimacy I’ll never have with you.

Yet, such intimacy, I suppose, is in your life.

How may it show in words?: as if “my words are already yours because we’re each other’s best complement”?

Here of us, there for each one.

“Here I am,” we say of us.

Here, what’s ours belongs.

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It is as: given as is

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From journalism to phenomenology, life is as is.

Aren’t I profound?

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writerly gardening

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I’ve posted more during the past two weeks than during the past six months. I feel that frequent posting may continue. The “update” note should become more pointless.

This note is mainly filling space until I expand it this weekend.

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Sunday, Aug. 29

Or not. I’m regularly amazed how an agenda item which seems clear becomes a rhizome of themic links to other topics, themes within themes, intimations among prospections.

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on “belief”

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I was going to do a little discourse on the notion of belief, but the posting became a little conceptual confession.

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an individual pluralism of conceptual interests

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Doesn’t that sound like a modest engagement?

You want to know what I’m ultimately doing?

Briefly?

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What’s important?

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Here is the news (again): the alien as welcomed.

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telling you more

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I’ve “always” been a narrated character in fictionalization of the other.

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a father on loving to make a difference together

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In lasting love, we welcome and appreciate our amazing and comple-
mentary differences—beyond “Adam of Eve’s immaculate self-conceiving.”

Archetropes live.

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saturdaynote

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Nothing new, except the gedavis.com home page brief update.

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July 31

The work I’m consolidating offline has gotten so tedious that boredom—even though I truly want to get to closure—gets me distracted by en-
chantments about the nature of the universe (below) and speculations about Absolute Others (July 31 there), which probably harms my credibility.

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So Be It

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Whatever the shape “our universe” is (our?)—Klein bottle, say?—
its expansion isn't happening in 4-d (space-time). It’s happening
in greater dimensionality, which We’ll never know, never comprehend.

Like a balloon inflating in 3-space over time is an expanding 2-space surface through 4-d space-time (perpendicular to the 2-d balloon surface), the surface of the Klein bottle trope is 4-d space-time itself expanding in greater dimensionality (incomprehensibly to us), perpendicular to space-time, as if “The” Universe is emergent cold clearing in quantum foam (among other Universes?).

Ultimately, We’ll never know why there’s anything rather than no Universe—a fate we share with flowers.

But they’re never chilled to their heart that “I” is.

Meanwhile, We, like honeybees, design Our scale of appreciation—yet,
We want vastly more than any other form of Earthan life: evolving
reason to live, evolving appreciability.

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The Earthan Being evolves.

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Evolution of the Internet has been animated, using years of images
of the actual computation of the Internet’s structure at various days.
I’ve updated a 2019 posting about that (pre-animated days), linked
to the animation, and added some speculative fun.

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prefacing

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He’s a character whose “freedom” of “the wealth of options” evinces “preferences” among “many paths” in a “map of many gardens” becoming “the landscape” “constellating it all.”

Funny: as if writing will capture...

saturdaynote

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At my gedavis.com update today, I didn’t connote that I want freedom
to do sections of the 12 chapters in non-sequential order, relative to my ephemeral preferences and readings. So, I might as well have just said
I’ll continue posting intermittently, as if there’s no map of many gardens
and many paths for play.

I didn’t confess that Friday was a milestone for constellating it all, such that I just need to stand back from the landscape and decide where I want to go next, because the wealth of options is luscious.

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gravities

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Creative process for intensive attention to Biden’s inaugural drew me first into more idealization about democratic futures, then clarifying
my sense of historical nationality and the confederated condition of global humanity, then weaving reverie into parts of Biden’s Address, which links to the futural prospecting and retrojecting.

Altogether, there’s implied a conception of political evolution, though
not overtly called that. It’s sketching, but carefully conceived, like
a painters’ sketch that’s definitive for what’s to be fleshed out later.

Now, I’m tired of political things. I ended the posting on union by avowing that “I want to enrich a conception of…bettering humanity,” which a reader would presume to be political, rightly. But secretly
my recalling there Biden’s avowal that “words matter” had literary appeals in mind, as I did also near the end of “for a world beyond throwaway words,” in August:

So much contemporary American poetry is simply worded ...because…common terms may matter profoundly. Words we hold sacred draw lives into better mapping…[and] keep the promise of good lives near to heart….that instill gravities to words worth lasting orientation of sensibility.

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old student, young scholar…

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They have in common deserving appreciation of their path’s integrity.

A young sociology grad (I guess) from Norway engaged seriously with a posting I did at the Facebook/Habermas Page, so I gave an evening to replying thoughtfully: His confusions portended emergence of important differentiations by his own engagement! I don’t find error in that; I find emerging self-actualization. So, I portrayed us in shared engagement.

An old scholar of Heidegger’s work—“an octogenerian,” he calls himself—invited discussion of a chapter of his long-ago published book, uploaded to his academia.edu page.