2/1
tomorrow i will turn thirty-seven.
yesterday a new year began.
today. there's light in the sky, and there are clouds. there's wind. there are birds. the air is cold. clouds faraway, above friesland and noord-holland, look like snow. they feather toward heaven.
*
i'm thinking about writing, and reading. how do i do this, i keep wondering. i'm supposed to be a grown up but there's still not a clue in my mind about how to be. i know there is not one way. i know there are multiple ways. the way i am present in this life, this world, however, doesn't feel possible. it feels like there is no way for me to be the dreamer, thinker, reader, writer that i am.
this morning i received a poem in the mail:
Self-portrait I
by Tove Ditlevsen
I cannot:
cook
pull off a hat
entertain company
wear jewellery
arrange flowers
remember appointments
send thank you cards
leave the right tip
hold onto a man
feign interest
at parent-teaching meetings.
I cannot
stop:
smoking
drinking
eating chocolate
stealing umbrellas
oversleeping
forgetting to remember
birthdays
and to clean my nails
telling people
what they want to hear
spilling secrets
loving
strange places
and psychopaths.
I can:
be alone
do the dishes
read books
make sentences
listen
and be happy
without feeling guilty.
the last stanza feels like a prayer, or maybe an affirmation. i can do all those these as well, except the last few lines. be happy without feeling guilty. but maybe, if i keep telling myself i can, that idea will grow in my mind, my soul; perhaps one day i will be able to. that would be nice.
*
i've also been thinking about kate zambreno. about blogging. once again. about the way us humans keep making a bigger mess of this place we call "our world" makes me entirely desperate to save the world from humanity. it is such a strange thing to see people keep wanting more, and more, and more, whine about time, all the while filling agendas, days, months—their entire fucking lives with nonsense. i recently came across a video about ‘the changing reading brain in a digital culture’, in which a lady called maryanne wolf (i believe she's a neuroscientist) speaks of the way our brain is being influenced/ altered by spending so much time behind/ learning to read via screens. apparently, our brain isn't actually equipped for reading, which is why everybody has to learn to read. by learning to read, we connect certain parts of our brain which results in further cognitive skills which aren't included at birth. skills like critical thinking, reflection.
wolf starts her talk with a few quotes. proust: we feel quite truly that our wisdom begins with that of the author. (..) by a law which perhaps signifies that we can receive the truth from nobodoy, that which is the end of their wisdom appears to us as the beginning of ours.
alberto manguel: reading is cumulative and proceeds with geometric progression: each new reading builds upon what the reader has read before.
these ideas touch upon what excites me about reading, and books, and ideas: the fact that we can ‘go beyond the wisdom of the author’; the fact that we can inhabit ideas, stories, let them simmer in our minds, make connections, analyze both the story and our selves—it doesn't even have to be a conscious or active process: the words will enter our minds (souls?) and deep down there they will live their own lives: stuff will happen to us, whether we notice these happenings or not.
another quote maryanne wolf shared, words by patricia greenfield:
no one medium can do everything. every medium has its costs and weaknesses; every medium develops some cognitive skills at the expense of others. although the digital medium may develop impressive visual intelligence, the costs seems to be deep processing: mindful knowledge acquisition, inductive analysis, critical thinking, and reflection.
the costs seems to be deep processing.
that sentence scares the shit out of me. how do we live without deep processing?
reading and writing, is the answer. for me, anyway. actual books, made from paper. writing with pens, in notebooks. to live to read to write; to write to read to live; to read to write to live; to write to live to read; to read to live to write; to live to write to read. something like that. i need to do this. to keep doing this. blogging might be the answer.
