The Philosopher's Attic

Don’t expect anything. Not even the best.

I realise that I am starting to repeat myself topic wise… but somehow I can’t talk about anything else but change. Not just because my life seems to go through a whole phase of changes one after the other, but because so many people around me seem to be affected by change or by… non-change.

I am faced with a particularly difficult task at the moment. Not only do I need to balance a number of things at various moment, be it work with 100 different dossiers dropping at the same time, personal life, friends, emotions, a pregnancy… but was also asked to start my philosophical engines and contribute in that particular field of Paleoanthropologie/Paleopathology in a meaningful way.

(big silence)

Exactly.

It’s not that I don’t feel inspired by the completely new setting that I am spending my days in now. From mummified mammoth babies, histological cell pictures to ancient DNA extraction protocolls, to orthopedic pathologies in Aegyptian Mumies, I come into contact with a lot of things that are simply breathtaking. (And that is just my working group. Let’s not even start with the space group that is working with NASA on the effects of zero gravity on human cell structure, degradation and other weird stuff that involves sending mice on a parabolic flight in the south of France…)
But for someone who never thought that she had enough stamina, chutzpe or intelligence (according to the time of day) to ever be any good at practical philosophy, this is a true dare.
And indeed, the last couple of weeks have been filled with the bording side of my profession: literature research and delving into a certain number of articles on the ideal way to deal with human remains in research, on the ethics of archeology and exhibit ehtics.

And what can I say? The spark has taken. This terribly theoretical philosopher now is truly inspired to bend her mind to the difficult and necessary task to find ways to think about mummies and historical human remains and their relation to top level modern medical research.

Who would have thought?

I certainly wouldn’t have. And that brings me to the main idea that I needed to share: we never know where we end up. And we’re back to the scary parts of life. The parts that we cannot possibly control. And while we sometimes may think that abandoning one way for another one that seems more comfortable and more secure, that might just be the path that takes us all the way to where we really need to be.

Think about that while you walk home tonight or stand on your balcony, or garden for a moment.

yseult Issues, Personal, Work ethics, mumies, Work

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