flourishing humanity

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—as if you haven’t read enough about humanity. But “flourishing humanity” best expresses (so far) my sense of the better continuum
of progressive pragmatics. ‘Flourishing’ is used as a verb.

Humanity is the ethical generality that we are or can be, which ideas
of “universality” and “cosmopoly” conceal, because Our locus in
the cosmos which is universal has nothing to do with Our Earthanity.

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winter 2022

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So being a point of humanity, I flourish before tragedy anyway, as winter yields to spring, and I’m flying: I expect to have new postings weekly.

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flourishing before tragedy

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Who needs delusional despotism to remind one of what matters, when necessary defense is evinced? The principle-based international order of The Fair World will prevail, without a paranoid narcissism of power to remind Us.

The title has a double sense of ‘before’: prior to and in the face of.

It’s an elaborate postponement of detailed discussion of the current horror in Ukraine. Also, it extende an argument for why negate-ive “dialectic” is invalid.

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being a point of humanity

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A large new project, “points of humanity,” is about lifeworldliness, self-effacing reconciliation, being, ethical sense, and bettering our futurity. It’s the first part of a larger project which will eventually list “points of humanity” as its beginning sections.

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anomie of mortality

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I’m regularly reminded, by obituaries of once-prominent persons, that I’d forgotten about them—as the major media evidently did, since they weren’t subjects of articles in recent years (as far as I knew), until they died. “Oh!,” I realize about the person I admired, “s/he wasn’t already dead.” It’s amazing how quickly a long obituary appears, as if some editor was ready for the death.

Encomiums abound for a few days, then they’re forgotten again, at best becoming characters in someone’s distant scholarship.

Tradition was that families kept memory of their recent ancestors alive because families stayed close across generations. Now, many marriages don’t last; the children adjust to a parent being a visitation, everyone having vaguely recognized relatives. And nomadic professions (nom-
adic families) may barely ever know who their relatives are, let alone who’s still alive.

“Neighborhoods” become privatistic data areas in city management. “Communities” become vaguely bounded segments of exurban metropolia. Obsessive social networking brings anomie, even depres-
sion. People are glued to their phone screens on the street, as if desperate for something novel.

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Your life is yours, once.

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“Idealizing better being for better humanity” preludes discussions of others’ work, beginning soon.

But it’s implicitly motivated by feeling from others so much complacency (slackerism); and so much consumerist pandering
in journalism.

Highly engaged artists and inquirers are commonly regarded by market society as aliens—or curiosities. Highly better-advised action and expertise easily seem elitist.

I turn away into my happy excursions, which have involved more work by others than I’ve yet highlighted.

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Another writer wants realismabout humanity now

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“What’s the better (‘best’?) cohering potpourri of this month’s leading ephemera?”

It’s anyone’s guess. Sensibility progresses—and finds progress in contemporaneity—by articulate responsiveness to news, shaping
new projects, new themes, new regions of thematics, as times call for. 

café transcript on the identity of Art

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A problem with autobiography is that detailing the past after many decades is too time consuming: The smallest event can become stories within stories within. And I’ve still got a life to live.

So, given that there’s no perfect beginning—certainly not beginning with childhood—“In The Beginning... Once upon a time...”—I’ll just recall something that suits my mood, whatever the day.

How it all hangs together will have to emerge (if at all) somewhere ahead.

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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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