Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Philosophy, poetry, art are among the great braided pleasures of my inner life.  Each discipline, at its best, constitutes a series of inquiries into the meaning of everything one might encounter or imagine encountering in this and other worlds, this and other lives.

Maybe it's because I'm quixotically, awkwardly, crazily trying to teach myself to play guitar as I approach senility, but increasingly I think of a triad like philosophy-poetry-art as a chord.

Entertaining 3, 4, 5 possibilities at the same time definitely feels something like a chord to me--something beyond the individual notes, a synthesis (however fragile, however discordant).


Philosophy, poetry, art are always already endangered.  If one asks questions, one is in trouble.  Practitioners threaten the practice, don't you know?

The social response to philosophy, poetry, art is neutralization through institutionalization.

The universe does not reside in the University.  At least I don't think so.


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