On Making a Return

Silkrock formation, Paria Canyon (Vermillion Cliffs Wilderness Area, AZ)

"No human life, not even the life of the hermit in nature's wilderness, is possible without a world which directly or indirectly testifies
to the presence
of other human beings.

-- Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition

 

"Joys impregnate. 
Sorrows bring forth."

-- William Blake

Well, it has been just over a year since my last blog post.  While I've been lurking on many blogs, I've been relunctant to resume my own, choosing reclusivity rather than re-engagement.  Because I've been dealing with a number of serious professional setbacks that correlate with and directly impact a series of equally serious and, admittedly, devastating personal experiences (with all their attendant affects of fear, failure, grief, and the like), I've held my tongue here for fear of what I might actually say.  Perhaps fittingly, I'll (only somewhat less cryptically) say more about some of this indirectly through a post  I'm currently writing on the swerve (away) from happiness (this might develop into several posts or a series).  That periphrastic enough for you?!

My general hope is to resurrect and relaunch this blog by posting more regularly, including reflections, striking quotations, commentary on items I may be reading at any given moment, various announcements, and even some of my own work as/if it materializes.  Most importantly, I want this blog to serve as a companion to my thoughts during a continued period of bereavement for and because of dreams deferred, hopes made despondent, bureaucratic evils, and the possibility of a future self that will have been made extinct.  If, as this blog's thesis avers, we are only ever indirectly ourselves, then we are equally always grieving over a future self left unrealized.  But, curiously, what can sometimes find actualization is a path left fallow years ago, thereby becoming reacquainted with a self we thought to have long ago rejected or forsaken.  So, perhaps an element in the realization of our indirect subjectivities is a rendering present of our widowed selves.

For now, I'll be posting during the Triduum.