For Edward R. Murrow (at Buchenwald, April 1945) "I pray you to believe
what I have said. I reported what I saw and heard - For most if it I have
no words. - If I have offended you - I am not in the least sorry."
Dear Learners
A sketch upon a river bank.
Reflecting upon distance and the precious 'now'
Conversation at 09.00 GMT this morning.
Hello!
Hello!
How are you?
Well, er I haven't been very well, I think I've had flu..¦(she lives alone)
I am sorry to hear that, I was a bit down last week as well, maybe I had flu
too.
But I want to ask you, why you weren't in the exhibition? (she is an artist)
Well, I had intended and then when I got there I realised that there was no
space left.
Oh dear! I only went along so that I might see your work.
I am sorry. But maybe I can invite you to another occasion?
That would be very nice, I'm not a member of the 'clique' you know ;-) (She
doesn't like cliques)
I know, that is why you will be the first person I invite to any next
exhibition. I too saw the clique had assembled and so I took my work away and
left them with the virtual nothing you found..¦
Oh! (Giggle)
Yes, sort of minimalist. -What is that in your bag, it looks heavy?
Books, big books. My blindness means I have to read from big books now. (She
lives alone and is going blind)
Oh dear!
Well, Andrew do let me know when you have another exhibition, I should so
like to see your work. (She looks forwards.)
Oh yes! You will be the very first to see my new work.
A smile, a touch on the shoulder and the little white haired girl ;-) skips
off down the road into her eightieth something year.
WHACK
One of the great German 'mystics' saw in the glistening 'arcing' light of sun
reflecting on a pewter plate a vision of the cosmos. Hundreds of year later a
distinguished American scientist saw in the emblem spinning on a college
dinner plate the emergence of the solution to a problem of 'particle'
physics.
Somewhere, perhaps the perfect point between hell and heaven a man stands
for hours and hours and hours upon a single brick. The brick is his home,
it is the 'now' territory of his soul. He cannot move. From behind him the
sun 'arcs' in through the window of the outside 'real' world of everyday
life; people move around in everyday expressions of everyday life, while
he stands and contemplates a new 'atomistic' reality. He sees eternity
suspended in the 'each' and 'every' particle of that dust that rides about
in the 'arcing' swathe of sunlight that has become the only focus of his
solitary attention. He is both watchless and watchful. Time moves slowly
for him now.
I will say that again for the linguists and collectors of knowledge among
the community of souls.
He is both watchless and watchful.
Now I can bifurcate to infinity along ever divergent paths, and the first
divergence is that which speaks of the illiterate who read book upon book
upon book in any language simply because he read them letter by letter,
mouthing each as he passed over them. No. I choose the other path.
Ownership
"Andrew, we were hoping ****** could return to ******* after her stay in
hospital and recovery but sadly, that is not to be..."
Two daughters, both with diseased lungs requiring mountains of love and
care. Year upon year of beatings on the back, administered with loving
force to dislodge that which chokes the airways. The 'one' at first most
ill, no self pity. Waiting the cure. We do not talk together of 'owning'
our bodies. She would like to lose those vital parts of hers, but in order
to do that and in some modern miracle regain life someone else has to
'go'. We do not wish upon 'owning' bodies or 'owing' bodies. That day
happens and heart and lungs are removed and the 'new' ones take the vacant
space. No talk of 'owning' bodies. The girl is different upon first
recovery. The younger sister then and almost as if on some cue, collapses
herself into critical illness. And then the silence of years, and then the
note. No talk of owning bodies. No talk of graves. Just grace.
"Is it raining on the river all the way to Ch'u?-
The evening bell comes to us from Nan-King.
Your wet sail drags and is loath to be going
And shadowy birds are flying slow.
We cannot see the deep ocean-gate -
Only the boughs of Pu-kuo, newly dripping.
Likewise because of our great love,
There are threads of water on our faces."
Mergence proffers emergence
Unconditional love given gathers
The greater place is unseen from the precious near
Virtual expressions become emotional factors
Unsaid and said mutually supporting
Eight lines that are 'self' suspended sufficiency.
For all those reflecting upon the 'ownership' of 'their body' today,
consider against the 'man on the brick' and the girls with another's heart
and lungs along with the parents and consider if you are really at so much
liberty as to find expansive meaning within your 'learningfulness' within
the 'spec' of dust or life in the 'spec' of death's void. The avowed
purpose of the poem is only preparation. The avowed purpose of
re-iteration is preparation.
At de Lange, you asked in your contribution that we might speculate on the
relation between 'deep thinking' and 'deep feeling'. This citation
expresses simply enough how I think/feel this morning.
'All planning and design, that is to say all structure, is the
presentation of feeling in terms of understanding."
At', shall we 'kiss their foreheads', even though..¦?
And the mountain; cloud kissed, - tears by another name.
Best,
Andrew Campbell
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