ec7fa8a17afb4ed09668ca3cba134dcd Consolidating their perplexities: Conversations

 

consolidating their perplexities  la conversation n'est féconde qu'entre esprits attachés à consolider leurs perplexités     Cioran Emil  CONVERSATION  "a good conversation has taken hold: it opens our eyes to something, makes us prick up our ears. a good one conversation leaves echoes: later in the day, we keep talking in our minds; and the next day we still find ourselves conversing with what was said.  ... it is necessary to rethink what the conversation is about. The term means 'change direction with', go back, reverse motion, and it probably has to do with going back and forth with someone or something,  ... turning and heading towards the same ground from the opposite direction. A conversation changes direction to things and for every conversation there is a 'verse' a reverse, an opposite side.  ... for this the style of our conversations must be a bit disconcerting, changing the intended direction of a thought or a feeling. And that is why we must speak with irony, and even mockery, with sarcasm. maybe even shocking: because consciousness comes through a little shock of awareness, keeping us on the edge, sharp, alert, and a little sideways. "     James Hillman,   One Hundred Years of Psychoanalysis. And the world is getting worse, Rizzoli Bur      BODY  Lady Lazarus   I did it again.  One year every ten  I can -  A kind of walking miracle, my skin  shining like a Nazi lampshade,  my paperweight  Right foot,  my face an anonymous, perfect  Hebrew linen.  Off with the cloth,  my enemy!  Am I afraid? -  The nose, the dark circles, the teeth?  The stinking breath  in one day it will vanish.  Soon, soon the meat  that the tomb has eaten will be  used to me  and I'll be a woman who smiles.  I am only thirty.  And like the cat I have nine lives to die for.  This is number three.  What junk  to take out every decade.  What a myriad of filaments.  The crowd munching on peanuts  crowds to see  that unravel my hand and foot -  The great striptease.  Ladies and gentlemen, here it is  my hands,  my knees.  I'll also be skin and bones  but yet I am the exact same woman.  The first time it happened that I was ten.  It was an accident.  But the second time I was determined  to insist, not to withdraw at all.  I was rocking closed  like a shell.  They had to call and call  and peel off the worms like sticky pearls.  To die  it is an art, like everything else.  I do it in an exceptional way.  I do it which looks like hell.  I do it that looks real.  Admit I have a calling.  It is easy enough to do it in a cell.  It's easy enough to do it and just sit there.  It is the theatrical  return in broad daylight  to an equal place, equal face, equal  amused and animal scream:  "Miracle!"  That's what kills me.  There is a price to pay  to spy  my scars, to auscultate  my heart - yes, it beats.  And there is a price, a very expensive price,  for a touch, a word,  or some of my blood  or hair or a thread of my clothes.  Yes, Herr Doktor.  Yes, Herr Enemy.  I am your opus magnum.  I am your jewel,   pure gold creature  that melts at a scream.  I turn around and burn.  Don't think that I underestimate your anxieties.  Ash, ash -  You poke and rummage.  Flesh, bone, you find none -  A bar of soap,  a wedding faith,  a dental prosthesis.  Herr god, Herr Lucifer,  careful.  Careful.  From the ashes I come  With my red hair  And I eat men like air of wind.                                                                             Sylvia Plath  I am your jewel,      pure gold creature  that melts at a scream.  I turn around and burn.  Don't think that I underestimate your anxieties.  Ash, ash -  You poke and rummage.  Flesh, bone, you find none -  A bar of soap,  a wedding faith,  a dental prosthesis.  Herr god, Herr Lucifer,  careful.  Careful.  From the ashes I come  With my red hair  And I eat men like air of wind.                                                                             Sylvia Plath  BODY FACE PSYCHE  The face is the privileged part of the human body; it is what communicates the essence of a person to us.  But the face is also a "form" with a certain surface; is the face on which emotions are revealed, feelings, secret thoughts. The face is "the mirror of the soul".  In the physical world, Simmel wrote, there is no structure "that, like the human face, is able to convey one  such a great variety of shapes and surfaces in an unconditional unity of meaning ". [Marco Belpoliti - Doppio Zero]  to grow up  I've never told anyone this story, and never thought I had to - not because I was afraid I wouldn't  be believed, but exactly because I was ashamed ... and because it was mine.   If you really want to hear this story, you might want to know first where I was born and how it is  it was my bad childhood and what my parents and company were doing before I came along and all of them  this David Copperfield nonsense, but I really don't want to talk about it   Friendship is a gimmick of God to forgive the institution of the family.   Mark was eleven and had been smoking intermittently for two years already   I am a foundling.      to grow up  In the shade of the house, on the sunny banks of the river by the boats, in the shade of the Sal wood, in the shade of the fig tree  Siddhartha, the handsome son of the Brahmin, the young hawk, grew up together with his friend, Govinda, also the son of Brahmin.  On the bank of the river, in the baths, in the sacred ablutions, in the votive sacrifices the sun burned his shining shoulders. Shadows crossed his black eyes in the mango grove, during childish games, to the song of his mother, during the holy sacrifices, at the lessons of his father, so learned, during the conversations of the sages. For some time Siddhartha he took part in the conversations of the sages, he practiced with Govinda in the art of oratory, as well as in the exercise of  ... faculty of observation and in the practice of inner concentration. He already knew how to pronounce it  ... imperceptibly the Om, the supreme word, knew how to absorb it into himself by saying it silently in the act  ... to inhale, he knew how to emit it silently in the act of exhaling, with the soul collected, the radiant forehead of the  ... splendor that emanates from a luminous spirit. He already knew, in the depths of his being, to recognize  ... the Atman, indestructible, one with the totality of the world.  The father's heart leapt for joy for that son so studious, so eager to know; he was a great scholar, a high priest what he saw developing in him: a prince among the Brahmins.  to grow up  In April 1831, Clementina Sanvitale entered with her younger sisters, Paolina and Virginia, in the Lasagna College of Parma. He was fourteen.  The world had teeth and could bite you at any moment.  This Trisha McFarland discovered at nine.  to grow up  Among the various public buildings of a certain city that for many reasons I avoid mentioning and to which I do not want to give any names fictitious, there has long been a common one in many cities large and small, I mean the begging house.  to grow up  The turning point was a beautiful day, a beautiful May morning.  to grow up  Once upon a time …  "A king!" my little readers will immediately say.  No, guys, you were wrong. Once upon a time there was a piece of wood  to grow up  At the age of fourteen I was a schoolgirl in a boarding school in Appenzell. Places where Robert Walser had done many walks when he was in an asylum, in Herisau, not far from our institution. He died in the snow. Photos show his footprints and body posture in the snow. We did not know the writer. And she didn't know him not even our literature teacher. Sometimes I think it's nice to die like this, after a walk, to break up  fall into a natural sepulcher, in the snow of Appenzell, after almost thirty years in an asylum, in Herisau. And a real one  ... pity we did not know of Walser's existence, we would have picked a flower for him.  ... show his footprints and body posture in the snow. We did not know the writer. And she didn't know him  not even our literature teacher. Sometimes I think it's nice to die like this, after a walk, to break up  fall into a natural sepulcher, in the snow of Appenzell, after almost thirty years in an asylum, in Herisau. And a real one pity we did not know of Walser's existence, we would have picked a flower for him.      to grow up  I was about to overtake Salvatore when I heard my sister screaming. I turned around and saw her disappear swallowed by the wheat that covered the hill.     I shouldn't have brought it with me, mom me he would have made him pay dearly.     I stopped. I was sweaty. I took a deep breath and  I called her. - Maria? Maria?   A suffering voice answered me. - I-  claws!   - Did you get hurt ?  - Yes come.  - Where did you get hurt?  - In the leg.  She pretended, she was tired. I go ahead, I am  said. What if she really got hurt?   Where were the others?     I saw their trails in the wheat. They went up slowly, in parallel rows, like the fingers of a hand, towards the top of the hill, leaving behind a tail of felled stems.  to grow up  In a New England college comes to teach a professor, Kitting, very different from the others - we are in the years  fifty -. The lessons are weird and alive, and totally unconventional: once the teacher gets ripped from the books of  poetry all the initial criticisms. The idea is to live according to one's own attitudes and not according to those inherited.  One of the students - who adore the teacher -, in conflict with his father, kills himself. The principal and the "system" try to  attribute responsibility to the teacher, who must leave school. Fundamental film of the modern era of cinema, where it is very difficult to bring something new.     Present are students Todd and Knox standing up, Principal Nolan and Kitting. TODD ​​Professor Kitting,  they forced to sign.  Please believe me, it's true!  PRINCIPAL NOLAN Sit down, sir.  PROF. KITTING Of course I believe Todd.  PRINCIPAL NOLAN I said: sit down Mr. Anderson: another intemperance from you or anyone else and you will be expelled from school. Go away professor! I said: go away Kitting!  TODD ​​Captain, my captain.  PRINCIPAL NOLAN Sit down immediately Anderson. Did you hear me right? Sit down. Look, this is the last time I get it  I say:  how dare you? Did Anderson hear me?  KNOX Captain, my captain.  PRINCIPAL NOLAN Mr. Anderson I warn you: sit down immediately. Seated I said. To sit: I tell everyone, I want that you sit down. All sit down! I got it? You go away Kitting. Get out, come on! Everyone get off! Do you understand me? Self-du-ti!  PROF. KITTING Thanks children, thanks!     (taken from: Daniela Farinotti, Tomorrow is another day: sixty endings of sixty legendary films ..., La Tartaruga  Editions, Milan 1995)

consolidating their perplexities


la conversation n'est féconde qu'entre esprits attachés à consolider leurs perplexités


 

Cioran Emil


CONVERSATION


"a good conversation has taken hold: it opens our eyes to something, makes us prick up our ears. a good one conversation leaves echoes: later in the day, we keep talking in our minds; and the next day we still find ourselves conversing with what was said.


... it is necessary to rethink what the conversation is about. The term means 'change direction with', go back, reverse motion, and it probably has to do with going back and forth with someone or something,


... turning and heading towards the same ground from the opposite direction. A conversation changes direction to things and for every conversation there is a 'verse' a reverse, an opposite side.


... for this the style of our conversations must be a bit disconcerting, changing the intended direction

of a thought or a feeling. And that is why we must speak with irony, and even mockery, with sarcasm. maybe even shocking: because consciousness comes through a little shock of awareness, keeping us on the edge, sharp, alert, and a little sideways. "


 

James Hillman,


One Hundred Years of Psychoanalysis. And the world is getting worse, Rizzoli Bur



 

BODY


Lady Lazarus



I did it again.

One year every ten

I can -

A kind of walking miracle, my skin

shining like a Nazi lampshade,

my paperweight

Right foot,

my face an anonymous, perfect

Hebrew linen.

Off with the cloth,

my enemy!

Am I afraid? -

The nose, the dark circles, the teeth?

The stinking breath

in one day it will vanish.

Soon, soon the meat

that the tomb has eaten will be

used to me

and I'll be a woman who smiles.

I am only thirty.

And like the cat I have nine lives to die for.

This is number three.

What junk

to take out every decade.

What a myriad of filaments.

The crowd munching on peanuts

crowds to see

that unravel my hand and foot -

The great striptease.

Ladies and gentlemen, here it is

my hands,

my knees.

I'll also be skin and bones

but yet I am the exact same woman.

The first time it happened that I was ten.

It was an accident.

But the second time I was determined

to insist, not to withdraw at all.

I was rocking closed

like a shell.

They had to call and call

and peel off the worms like sticky pearls.

To die

it is an art, like everything else.

I do it in an exceptional way.

I do it which looks like hell.

I do it that looks real.

Admit I have a calling.

It is easy enough to do it in a cell.

It's easy enough to do it and just sit there.

It is the theatrical

return in broad daylight

to an equal place, equal face, equal

amused and animal scream:

"Miracle!"

That's what kills me.

There is a price to pay

to spy

my scars, to auscultate

my heart - yes, it beats.

And there is a price, a very expensive price,

for a touch, a word,

or some of my blood

or hair or a thread of my clothes.

Yes, Herr Doktor.

Yes, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus magnum.

I am your jewel,


pure gold creature

that melts at a scream.

I turn around and burn.

Don't think that I underestimate your anxieties.

Ash, ash -

You poke and rummage.

Flesh, bone, you find none -

A bar of soap,

a wedding faith,

a dental prosthesis.

Herr god, Herr Lucifer,

careful.

Careful.

From the ashes I come

With my red hair

And I eat men like air of wind.

 

                                                                        Sylvia Plath


I am your jewel,

pure gold creature

that melts at a scream.

I turn around and burn.

Don't think that I underestimate your anxieties.

Ash, ash -

You poke and rummage.

Flesh, bone, you find none -

A bar of soap,

a wedding faith,

a dental prosthesis.

Herr god, Herr Lucifer,

careful.

Careful.

From the ashes I come

With my red hair

And I eat men like air of wind.

 


                                                                        Sylvia Plath


BODY FACE PSYCHE


The face is the privileged part of the human body; it is what communicates the essence of a person to us.

But the face is also a "form" with a certain surface; is the face on which emotions are revealed, feelings, secret thoughts. The face is "the mirror of the soul".

In the physical world, Simmel wrote, there is no structure "that, like the human face, is able to convey one

such a great variety of shapes and surfaces in an unconditional unity of meaning ". [Marco Belpoliti - Doppio Zero]

to grow up


I've never told anyone this story, and never thought I had to - not because I was afraid I wouldn't

be believed, but exactly because I was ashamed ... and because it was mine.


If you really want to hear this story, you might want to know first where I was born and how it is

it was my bad childhood and what my parents and company were doing before I came along and all of them

this David Copperfield nonsense, but I really don't want to talk about it


Friendship is a gimmick of God to forgive the institution of the family.


Mark was eleven and had been smoking intermittently for two years already


I am a foundling.


 

to grow up


In the shade of the house, on the sunny banks of the river by the boats, in the shade of the Sal wood, in the shade of the fig tree

Siddhartha, the handsome son of the Brahmin, the young hawk, grew up together with his friend, Govinda, also the son of Brahmin.

On the bank of the river, in the baths, in the sacred ablutions, in the votive sacrifices the sun burned his shining shoulders. Shadows crossed his black eyes in the mango grove, during childish games, to the song of his mother, during the holy sacrifices, at the lessons of his father, so learned, during the conversations of the sages. For some time Siddhartha he took part in the conversations of the sages, he practiced with Govinda in the art of oratory, as well as in the exercise of

... faculty of observation and in the practice of inner concentration. He already knew how to pronounce it

... imperceptibly the Om, the supreme word, knew how to absorb it into himself by saying it silently in the act

... to inhale, he knew how to emit it silently in the act of exhaling, with the soul collected, the radiant forehead of the

... splendor that emanates from a luminous spirit. He already knew, in the depths of his being, to recognize

... the Atman, indestructible, one with the totality of the world.

The father's heart leapt for joy for that son so studious, so eager to know; he was a great scholar, a
high priest what he saw developing in him: a prince among the Brahmins.

to grow up


In April 1831, Clementina Sanvitale entered with her younger sisters, Paolina and Virginia, in the Lasagna College of Parma. He was fourteen.

The world had teeth and could bite you at any moment.

This Trisha McFarland discovered at nine.

to grow up


Among the various public buildings of a certain city that for many reasons I avoid mentioning and to which I do not want to give any names
fictitious, there has long been a common one in many cities large and small, I mean the begging house.

to grow up


The turning point was a beautiful day, a beautiful May morning.

to grow up


Once upon a time …

"A king!" my little readers will immediately say.

No, guys, you were wrong. Once upon a time there was a piece of wood

to grow up


At the age of fourteen I was a schoolgirl in a boarding school in Appenzell. Places where Robert Walser had done many
walks when he was in an asylum, in Herisau, not far from our institution. He died in the snow. Photos
show his footprints and body posture in the snow. We did not know the writer. And she didn't know him not even our literature teacher. Sometimes I think it's nice to die like this, after a walk, to break up

fall into a natural sepulcher, in the snow of Appenzell, after almost thirty years in an asylum, in Herisau. And a real one

... pity we did not know of Walser's existence, we would have picked a flower for him.

... show his footprints and body posture in the snow. We did not know the writer. And she didn't know him

not even our literature teacher. Sometimes I think it's nice to die like this, after a walk, to break up

fall into a natural sepulcher, in the snow of Appenzell, after almost thirty years in an asylum, in Herisau. And a real one pity we did not know of Walser's existence, we would have picked a flower for him.


 

to grow up


I was about to overtake Salvatore when I heard
my sister screaming. I turned around and saw her
disappear swallowed by the wheat that covered the hill.

 

I shouldn't have brought it with me, mom me
he would have made him pay dearly.

 

I stopped. I was sweaty. I took a deep breath and

I called her. - Maria? Maria?


A suffering voice answered me. - I-

claws!


- Did you get hurt ?

- Yes come.

- Where did you get hurt?

- In the leg.

She pretended, she was tired. I go ahead, I am

said. What if she really got hurt?


Where were the others?

 

I saw their trails in the wheat. They went up slowly,
in parallel rows, like the fingers of a hand, towards
the top of the hill, leaving behind a tail
of felled stems.

to grow up


In a New England college comes to teach a professor, Kitting, very different from the others - we are in the years

fifty -. The lessons are weird and alive, and totally unconventional: once the teacher gets ripped from the books of

poetry all the initial criticisms. The idea is to live according to one's own attitudes and not according to those inherited.

One of the students - who adore the teacher -, in conflict with his father, kills himself. The principal and the "system" try to

attribute responsibility to the teacher, who must leave school. Fundamental film of the modern era of
cinema, where it is very difficult to bring something new.

 

Present are students Todd and Knox standing up, Principal Nolan and Kitting. TODD ​​Professor Kitting,

they forced to sign.

Please believe me, it's true!

PRINCIPAL NOLAN Sit down, sir.

PROF. KITTING Of course I believe Todd.

PRINCIPAL NOLAN I said: sit down Mr. Anderson: another intemperance from you or anyone else and you will be expelled
from school. Go away professor! I said: go away Kitting!

TODD ​​Captain, my captain.

PRINCIPAL NOLAN Sit down immediately Anderson. Did you hear me right? Sit down. Look, this is the last time I get it

I say:

how dare you? Did Anderson hear me?

KNOX Captain, my captain.

PRINCIPAL NOLAN Mr. Anderson I warn you: sit down immediately. Seated I said. To sit: I tell everyone, I want
that you sit down. All sit down! I got it? You go away Kitting. Get out, come on! Everyone get off! Do you understand me? Self-du-ti!

PROF. KITTING Thanks children, thanks!

 

(taken from: Daniela Farinotti, Tomorrow is another day: sixty endings of sixty legendary films ..., La Tartaruga Editions, Milan 1995)



grow up adolescence


Adolescence is not just a season of life, but a recursive modality of the psyche where the traits of uncertainty, anxiety for the future, the irruption of instinctual instances, the need for reassurance and freedom at the same time

....sometimes a meeting to celebrate, in a single season, all the possible expressions in which life can take place. For this in front of adolescents we are anxious.

They testify to us everything possible that has not become real in us.


 

grow training


I would gladly say (and this is not a joke) that the first goal of the educator is to train self-taught people, because after the training period, everyone will be led every day to answer the question "what should I do?

... how should I do it? ", and it is unlikely that someone will be there to tell him what to do and how.

This is the school. The good pupil, at school, asks the teacher: "What should I do, and how should I do it?". But when he too is grappling with personal, professional, family, love, affective life, etc., it is he who

...he will have to find out what he will have to do and how he will have to do it. The problem of knowledge is all here.

I think knowledge has two sides. There is the knowledge acquired, what others have found, and it is that what you learn in school, what others have discovered, which is important to know, but it is only half. The other half did must find out for yourself; after all, what one learns at school is what others have discovered without being told what they had to discover, and therefore there is all that dialectic between what has been learned from others and what.he must find himself to communicate it to others. The relationship between others and oneself, between what one has learned from others

...and what we have to teach them is therefore at the center of the notion of formation, of education.

I think that in order to train someone in his responsibilities on the level of discovery, of creation, it is necessary to do him to find out what his own freedom is; which is not the freedom to do anything, but responsible freedom.

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