Tuesday 28 July 2009

looking after dad

Commentaries and Conversations – just another love poem: Astrid Johnson

1) Intro

Tradition, Technology and the Library.

Thinking about tradition seems anachronistic in an age of technology.

You are lost already, my friend. Deeply lost in my arms.

Technology can strip away all that isn't needed in the Library –
I will argue this is a mistake. Why?

Sinking to the ground, no question left.

Drawing on Luhmann's distinction between
Perception & Communication.

In timeless suspension, gently gliding on the Ocean floor,
with so many of yours and your father's friends:
Niklas, Christopher, Bohuslav, William and Graham Greene.

I want to consider the university from a biological perspective.
Philosophy is poetry of ideas. I am writing on a computer.
We are lucky, no need to find out who the greater Kali here?

One father dead and the other barely living.
You, the son of one; me, the daughter of the other.

2) Father's Library

At the moment I'm sitting in dad's flat.
I am there with you, my love.

He's asleep. I am feeling the relentless march of time.
At times as crucial as then, but much less distinct, "the human heart
can go to the length of God". I love you for your heart
and the long distance runner it is.

Browsing books that I remember from childhood.
This is not difficult. I am listening to Martinu.

My perception in this Library is enlarged.
I'm regulated by respect, care, consideration, personal history, insight.
There is nothing else to do other than reflect and think. To perceive.
But I am now writing about it. After many hours, sat doing nothing.
My love, I envy you. Were you born with the ability to get lost, not loose any sense of morality
and the will to make distinctions?

Now I am communicating, my perception,
but others do it better than me.
Kali. Kali. Kali.

And they're all around me.
William Trevor, Graham Greene.
Gliding with friends on the Ocean floor. Dancing Kali's dance.
Let Evelyn Waugh join this dance. And there, you see, Rumi
running towards us...

Just walking by all the books.
So deep how I feel. Time.
Time. Time. I haven't sat like this with my dad's books
since I was 16.
Blessed we are, my love. Blessed with time.

Quote :"The human heart can go to the length of God" from Christopher Fry's "A Sleep of Prisoners"

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