Date: Sat, 19 Jun 2004 15:29:56 EDT
Subject: Re: A Bike-Ride Down the Feldweg


 
 


Dearest Jud,

Unsurprisingly predictable (which is not to say  not endearing) until 
the your most interesting last paragraph which I can't  wait to get 
to.  The rest misses the same point you're always  missing--that is,
the be all and end all of the discourse on this list (which  , by the 
way is the only reason why the some of us of whom you
speak  write for it) is UNDERSTANDING THE QUESTION.

I'm not arguing a case,  trying to prove anything,
I'm trying to clarify the question by asking it in  a different way. 
This activity cannot possibly solve any problems in  science,  even 
philosophy, and definitely not in my own life.   It's just talk, 
Judsy.  Nothing but talk.  That's the only reason  we let you in. 
You're a good talker.  The fact that much of what you  say is off the 
point is beside the point.

But now as to that  last--well whatever its you were trying to do. 
Speaking only for myself,  Jud,
not only is there something missing in the other areas of my life,  
the other areas of my life themselves
are missing.  But I really  stopped looking for them.  I know we're 
somewhat the same age Judsy,  but I think I'm ahead of you on this.

So the only reason I join any  relationship even for a moment, is 
because of what it offers  or  appears it will offer in that moment 
and perhaps the next.  I was on  the bike trail this morning and 
coming the other way ( this seeing of one  another during such a pass 
can last a relational lifetime) was a rather  plump, rider attired to 
the nines in colorful biking tights , with a $200  helmet perched on 
his mostly bald head.
Our eyes met, and he started the  smiling.  By time we got to the 
"hi," our smiles had reached the eyes  and our hi's reflected the full 
warmth of it.

The list might not  offer moments of this intensity, but for me its 
satisfactions are in the  same dimension
of possibility, namely philosophy.

Stay off the  road,
Allen
 
Jud:
 
Dear Compo,
I too am a cyclist and I know that Rene is also.  It would be nice if  the 
three of us did a twilight ride down the Feldweg together [before  we pop our 
clogs,] like the characters in "The Last of the Summer Wine" [a  lyrical 
Northern Britain based soap about some  delightful old men and their capers.] 
 
We could rendezvous by the court-garden gate to Ehnried just before  dusk, 
and after a smile, a passing around of the hip-flask and a  shaking of hands set 
forth towards St Martin's Church to listen to the bells and  the whisper in 
the grass of Martin's shade.
 
We throw our legs over the crossbar and push off St Martins  bound. After 
passing over the last hill its narrow ribbon leads through an even  slope till it 
reaches the town wall. Dimly it shines in the starlight. Behind  the castle 
soars the tower of St. Martin's Church. Once there we can loll on the  
greensward and listen to Heidegger's ghostly voice and he retraces his  nightly walk 
and revisits the beloved scenes of his youth:  

"Slowly, almost hesitatingly, eleven strokes of the hour fade  away in the 
night. The old bell, on whose ropes boys' hands often were rubbed  hot, trembles 
under the striking of the hour hammer, whose dark-droll face no  one forgets. 
The silence becomes, with the  last stroke, more silent. It reaches those who 
were sacrificed before time  through two world wars. The Simple has become 
yet simpler. The Ever-Same appears  strange and releases. The message of the 
Fieldpath is now quite clear. Is the  soul speaking? Is the world speaking? Is 
God speaking?  Everything speaks the renunciation unto the Same.  The 
renunciation does not take. The renunciation gives. It gives the  inexhaustible power of 
the Simple. The message makes us feel at home in a long  Origin"
 
After the sound has died away we may have a moment of quiet  reflection and 
perhaps another slug at the hipflask. Then I will read to  you from my German 
Hymnbook thus:  

"Die Herrligkeit der Erden Muss Rauch und Asche werden, Kein Fels, ken Erz  
kan stehn: Dies was uns kan ergetzen, Was wir fur ewig schatzen, Wird als ein  
lichter Traum vergehn.
 
[O, ye who praise earth's  splendours all is but smoke and cinders, No rock, 
no brass shall stay: Be ye not  too confiding. What so ye deem abiding, will 
as a vision pass  away.]


Wir rechnen Jahr auff  Jahre, Indessen wird die Bahre Uns fur die Thur 
gebracht: Drauff mussen wir von  hinnen, Und eh' wir uns besinnen, Der Erden sagen 
gute Nacht."
[Year after year we  reckon, Whilst death doth grimly beckon, and summon us 
away, to far-off realms  us leading, our questions nowise heeding, 
Good-night to earth he  bids us say.]
 
[Apologies to Andreus Gryphius, after who my dear dead child was  named.]
 
Afterwards there would be a pointing of our wheels in  different directions 
as we cry: "Auf Wiedersehen und es waren gut, Sie zu  treffen, und ein langes 
Leben zu haben!"  and wend our own ways along  other pathways towards the 
inevitable  ownness of our deaths — but the  meeting would have been fitting — and 
it would have been Heidegger who  had unwittingly been the catalyst — and for 
that at least I would thank  him.



 
 
Enjoy your rides -  but watch the guy with the  200-dollar helmet - his smile 
could be hebephrenical.  ;-)
 
Best wishes,
 
Jud.
 






Nullius in Verba

_http://evans-experientialism.freewebspace.com/index.htm_ 
(http://evans-experientialism.freewebspace.com/index.htm) 
JUD  EVANS - XVANS XPERIENTIALISM



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