The Philosopher's Attic

To bring the fire back into your eyes,
to make the walls around your heart tremble and then break,
to see the life in your eyes once more,
to feel your trembling touch on broken skin once again,
to solicit that special blush, that unbearable shudder,
to light the sky with one single look,
one single well placed kiss,

I will love you without a word or look,
without touch or nearness,
with a passion that will remain,
painful, eternal and unreal.

I will love you while you will conquer the world,
your fear and darkness.
While you become the one you were meant to be,
go where you’re meant to go and
love who you’re meant to love,
and sparkle the world with laughter.

To die in solace,
to suffer in twilight,
to end it all in one single thought,
to choose what cannot be found,
to hold on to your dying look,
to love at last.
With every heart, every fibre and every inch of my mind.
With every seed of heavenly lyrics and harmony,
with every eye and tear…

I will love you.

For all the people unconsciously wishing me the best,
for all the thoughts sent into this direction,
hoping for me to finally get up and make that choice.
For all the well mannered and discrete inquiries,
the undecided and unwanted partaking,
for every whim and expression only barely disguising that one last question,
for all it matters and all it doesn’t, this is what anyone would have to say…

Get out and turn around, because you’re not helping anyone.
Breathe out and let the projection rush out of you, because you’re not bringing any clarity.
Keep going and don’t come back.

Let me tear myself up into the tiniest pieces,
without rhyme or verse,
my future and my past.

Let me cry my soul down into an endless pit,
into the depths of what you would call your hell,
and I simply call… my own heaven.

- To an absolute Extreme, an Idol of Inspiration, D.M.

There’s something that needed exploring: the theme of an unrequited love that has been loved and been precious for such a long time that it is like an old friend in your mind and your way to look at the world. And what if that old friend suddenly changed in the face of hope, even the smallest one. That’s what needed to be discussed and that’s how I fulfilled the premise.

yseult Poetry, Work photos, Poetry

It’s over. All done. All said. All payed for (at least I hope so…) and all counts closed. The Colloquium where I had to play out all the cards I had, is done and over with. I really went to hell and back this time to make it happen. Bordering the nervous breakdown, exhaustive depression and the Super GAU. I worked over 12 hours a day to come to terms with the text and the philosopher I was supposed to rehabilitate, tore my hair out over my decision to quit my well known topics for something new and cursed everything and everyone around me. Sounds like fun? Well, it does, and really now it all seems so futile. And there lies the danger. But I heard the call and I will take it to heart and step down a little to get my energies up again.
So. The congress went GREAT. It was amazing. All organising was up top (thanks to Tristan – the loyal – of course). The people attending were impressed by our work and our contributions. And then the most amazing thing happened: the ones without their PhD and degrees rocked the place. Every single one of our little group that joins together some people from Paris (Sorbonne), from Switzerland and Italy, offered brilliant texts and insights into some of the works of the next years. And me? Well, so did I. And I would not have done it without my love. He stayed up with me until 1:30 the night before my talk to finish up the conclusion, held my hand, calmed my feverish breakdowns, lifted my headaches and made me tea throughout it all. And again, without him, I would have simply stood down and told AdL what’s the what: Boss, I’m ready for the asylum.
I didn’t. I came through and it feels very good. Some were so impressed that I am now with several invitations across the world for congress attendance, conference tours and some job prospects along the road. *sigh* But, really now, I have to take care of my issues. This call was just too close to ignore it. And it all starts with some days just filled with sleeping, reading, watching all three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy and reading Lynda Lemay lyrics. gt;

yseult Personal, Work

Dr. Mark Johnson at Thomistica.Net made an interesting point a while ago when he published a list that explained to the world (and his peers) why he was not to be considered a Thomist. (Sidenote: A thomist as in either a specialist for the theories and writings of Saint Thomas Aquinas or a follower of said Mediaeval thinker)
In relation with the above Sidenote such a declaration begs a question: so what kind of Non-Thomist is he? A non-follower or a non-specialist?
The list makes it quite clear that it’s the second option. And then you get to thinking… Mark Johnson (reading his CV and Bibliography makes that cristal clear) is a CHIEF specialist for the writings of Saint Thomas Aquinas. And he’s really screaming his doubt about the non read books into the blogosphere…

So what on earth am I then? I guess I am just picking up the breadcrumbs of some non existent metaphysical bread. ANYWAY… back to Saint Thomas Aquinas. What is philosophy and what is theology? What are all the academic theories worth anyway?
The answer can be quite simple: they’re a shot a the right and the most accurate way to explain the world. Which basically makes the History of Human thought a huge Mall where you get to choose the theory that personally suits you the best or is the most attune to your own way of figuring out the world and the comings and goings within it.
By choosing it of course you expose yourself to being filed under some “-ism” or “-isticism” or any other filing tag that suits your opponents. And at one point you go out there and shout “I am not a …” to anyone who wants to hear it.
Truth is (as far as text knowledge for qualifying as a specialist in something goes): it’s impossible! We go on the things we know and the Hermeneutic Circle states clearly that the process NEVER stops. Never. Ever. It can’t. It’s a perpetuum mobile that once it has been set off, cannot be stopped. And I guess that after some runnings of the Hermeneutic Circle the time calls to some pretending…
Let’s face it. You go to school, to college, you start a PhD and somewhere in between people start to notice you. Suddenly what you say matters. Just because you have the degree making obvious that you’re smart. And the you want to live up to it and you start pretending. That’s why it is virtually impossible for academic professionals to confess to not knowing something or a text. In that way I am quite refreshed by Mark Johnsons ‘confession’ and his ten reasons that make him a non-thomist.
And for some unfathomable reason, I am NOT sent into eternal doubt over his statements. I have long accepted the fact that the world is a box of chocolates… not in a Forrest Gump sort of way. But rather like this: eat the first top layer of the chocolates at ease… there’ll always be a next one after that.

yseult Work