videoed conversations

"What does it mean to speak? The current view declares that speech is the activiation of the organs for sounding and hearing. Speech is the audible expression and communication of human feelings. These feelings are accompanied by thoughts. In such a characterization of language three points are taken for granted:

1) speaking is expression...
2) speech is regarded as an activity of man...
3) human expression is always a presentation and representation of the real and the unreal." - Mr. Heidegger.

murmuratur

When something is threatened, it withdraws into itself. Dread, above all things, makes us draw into ourselves, makes us pale and lonely. Dread is vague; unlike fear it has no single clear-cut object. Its fog is all the more crippling for that; it can be so dense, so full of horror, that the ego sinks helplessly away. And it draws back into an inwardness devoid of ego, a lonely, contact-less realm, where all one expects is the next blow.

The man possessed by fear, however, still possess himself. There is an external object htere, against which he can pluck up courage. With his ego still (unlike with dread) undissipated, he is still able at least to assert ihmself against it, however down-trodden or weak-kneed he might be. And from fear can come murmuring: the sound which first distinguishes a man from the blinkered herd.

Ernst Bloch from Atheism in Christianity

²⁰For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now. Not only that, but we also who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body. For we were saved in this hope, but hope that is seen is not hope; for why does one still hope for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with perseverance.

²⁶Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. Now He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He makes intercession for the saints according to the will of God.

Romans 8:20-27

Who dares? for I would hear that curse again.
Ha, what an awful whisper rises up!
'Tis scarce like sound: it tingles through the frame
As lightning tingles, hovering ere it strike.
Speak, Spirit! from thine inorganic voice [1.135]
I only know that thou art moving near
And love. How cursed I him?

Prometheus speaks from PB Shelley's Prometheus Unbound

enduring reign

I'm listening for the Spirit and I'm asking her , 'now where are you and, please, where am I?' She tells me I'm not here, so I go with her.

I stepped off campus for one week in November and took a trip to the Republic.

During that week, I wrote a few lines - observations, words, confessions. I wrote down whatever I was told to write.

Line 1: "When it rains, people pay attention and are forgiven."

It was a sunny summers day (for their summers are our winters) and the land was dry. My father, sister and I had not told a soul that we were coming to the country, to be at my grandparents' 50th anniversary. We arrived, having come from the opposite side of the planet, unannounced.

Faces I had not seen for 5 years masked familiar souls that I'm afraid to say that I don't really know. We looked at each other. We said hello.

Under happy chatter, the silence between us related absence.

Sorry for abandoning you. I reassure you, I've abandoned myself.

Chatter in my uncle's home office - every man with a Castle or a Windhoek in hand. The light draws shadows under the trophies of the wild hanging on the walls. Daylight turned to darkness, a few long strokes of lightning filled the atmosphere with nitrogen, and the clouds let go. Sitting with my uncles, my dad, and myself (for I was beside myself at that time) I saw men drawn into the rain of the Spirit.

Their chatter she hushed and their protesting hearts she annointed with their own warm tears.

The rain fell hard, too hard for anyone who didn't need the forgiveness that it gave. Water collected on the rock hard soil and began to run down in any direction it could.

As for the rain, where it came from or where it was going, nobody knew or spoke about even after. For as fast as it came it was gone; nothing said. For the duration of the cloud burst nothing was said and even if something was said, it was the man beside himself that spoke.