wordplay, the love that you have forgotten

ward me with words, my evergreen

wordplay

words create concepts. de saussure warns us of this. in his //course on gen. linguistics//. he opines that linguistics and language is not simply a master to slave relationship–between we namers and our world which we name–but instead a more symbiotic relationship. this word symbiotic is not right, as masters and slave too “live with” (sym – bio) each other in mutuality (just this mutuality is not perceived, understood). we live with our world in a consciously and unconsciously transformational social activity. a terminal loop. so terminal, in fact, that the me formally dies in a process that constantly remolds it. it is also not quite right to speak in terms of we as though distinct from our world. this duality is unfortunate, and i use it as a cognitive tool to think one step forward and two steps back. that is, i wish to deconstruct language, which is two steps back from the particular so-called me and we. “me” and “we” as particular entities, are fashioned by language. our words are our buildings and borders.

without belief, the words are abandoned buildings, but their borders are more heavily patrolled for fear–the atheism–of crossing.

i want to play in them. but it is generally considered dangerous for children who play in broken down buildings and guarded borders.
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temporary
temporarius “of seasonal character, lasting a short time,” from tempus (gen. temporis) “time, season.” time is ours, seasons are our world of change. is this to mean that one exists within us and one exists with out? the so-conceived march of time is but our guess, the way we perceive our moments to progress. but seasons–i do not guess at this chill…

temporary is in passing, short, not permanent–but how do we feel this? that our moment k/now cannot last? it is our propensity toward prem o nition that is permanent.
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anger is the ire at thinking to understand an other…and failing, and we always and in all ways fail to understand. must we meet our indelible mark blind and angry?

but how can you love me when you treat me this way? this question is again, struggling with the failure to understand.

understanding is different from love.
understanding might even be different than wisdom–for if wisdom is empty, the most wise is one who knows to know nothing, we can understand this truth; but, understanding is our handle on what is, i mean in our hands. tellingly dictionaryreference peaks “understanding”‘s pinnacle at “personal interpretation”. additionally, we find the concept of perception. this is sensory, as in particular subjective sense. is there universal perception? maybe (kant, e.g. time, space–but this is preposterous oversimplification, privileged hegemon). but there is certainly a particular sensing as well–i feel cold, you warm; i hear this, she don’t; i want this, they won’t. i am a particular sensing difference from you. this difference can bring us closer and farther a part. but my understanding lives in my head. or may be in my soul, i mean the sole of my shoe. under-stand, below where we stand, beneath our very feet. we on top.

but wisdom–that is, the sophia of philosophia–marks movement. a movement in swaying dance with all every thing. definitions get tricky. words littered like, right, true, judgment, power, having, showing…
–right is correct. this is a quagmire, can be. right like the answer is. how do we know answers? oh, like in math–that game. but not even in language is there a right–it’s always moving faster than and beyond any perceivable end. in language out of the ashes of right r-i-g-h-t comes write. and it is much closer to wrong. in my humble opinion, the wise can be wrong. wisdom is in words; wisdom is wrong. if this be the opposite of right (which it is not necessarily, as in writing, right becomes write), one must reconsider including right as conceptually linked with wisdom, like dictionary reference does.

–true, from long time ago we find true as, loyal, trusty, honest. yes,this choice in denotative focus is arbitrary, but we must find a foothold or else suffocate in water or quicksand…let’s focus on “loyal, trusty, honest” in describing true.
* loyal is our intimacy–“being in accordance with the actual,” “conforming, consistent with,” and even “exact, precise.” when i say intimacy (down the rabbit hole) i invoke intimus–the inmost. intimatus, get so close. no scales to our mappings; the exactitude is point for point.
* trusty is our risk, an ability–to be worthy of trust. well, our accounting in terms of an other is always a gamble. when we rely on an other it requires some kind of calculation of risk. the risk is real, not imaginary, like our tabulation of ability and worth.
* honest is our leap. it is when we dispense with covers and bare our selves. make no mistake, we are always covered…in skin. but our honesty is not teleological (that i speak what is true), but instead processual via negativa (that i speak what is not false). may be sincerity and franknessss are impossible, especially in language which is a fraud. but there is some thing too easily folded into this critique, about the difference between me pouring heart into ink and an other’s interest as fink. the honesty is our leap towards one an other. this move can be fabricated, trumped up, tricked out, only until others who jumped fall to the ground and are recovered.

truth involves intimacy, risk, and our leap. this is a fundamental aspect of wisdom.

– let us forget about judgment and power;

honesty begets liberty: free fall

wisdom expresses a relationship with the universal. understanding, with the particular. understanding is different from love.
love is undulating,
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science is the study of can. (how can you?) philosophy is the study of cannot.
in can we understand, we stand atop. but love gives with out a ground to stop.
ours is not to understand, ours is to love.

the scientific perspective is that the world makes sense, and we must find it; my love of wisdom instills a slight perspectival shift that moves mountains: the world makes no sense, and we must found it. instead of the first, an order of burlesque, let us revel in the second approach, which encourages me to invest my self, my meaning, my play in the world to make it world.

we can appreciate the word play. we root around in the mire, like a pig and a hog. eat it all as much as you can. the longer you keep your self so-fed, an other will find an other. and an other. and an other. then stuffed, which is not full, but only temporary, we lay belly up to gaze at the stars and dream.

your experience is also mine as much as yours in the exigencies of speaking.