The Light in My Fragile House
These are the hands of John Polivka, before the last breaths of his pending death last night (12/27/2017). After years, for the first-time tears stung his eyes. A few months ago, he was a strong man who was famous for being a stubborn atheist who couldn’t stand anything which wasn’t logical according to him. He is like a brother to me and a second father to my son. In his loss, I cried deeply. The first part is the conclusion of my lifelong reflection on divine fragility of human being. And the second part is a didactic discussion on how I arrived to the first part:
The Light in My Fragile House
The theonomous subject
Within my blood.
When I was crumbled upon myself,
Like the play paper of cats,
When I collapsed,
Like the children’s house of sands,
I realized the secret of light with me:
I am the folding of disconnection and connection,
I am the suspension of equilibrium between belonging and independence,
I am the suspension of belonging-equilibrium between the inside and outside,
I am the suspension of belonging-equilibrium between the individual and society,
I am the suspension of belonging-equilibrium between the concept and the world,
I am the suspension of belonging-equilibrium between the particular and the universal,
I am the suspension of belonging-equilibrium between love and need,
I am the suspension of belonging-equilibrium between this speck of dust and the presence of God.
When the glorious feeling of existence,
Within the healthy blood of my body
Opened up the pores of my skin to the world,
I thought I am something of my own:
Independent, strong,
Standing upon the throne of my capabilities,
And along with Nietzsche:
Taking the power of my health,
As the ground of my own existence,
Thus calling myself Übermensch god,
And falling into abyss of disconnection.
I had to live the Way, the Night, and the Day,
Until I crumbled upon myself,
Like the play paper of cats,
To fall apart,
Like children’s house of sands.
I had to live the 19th century,
In the contradictory nightmare of the delusion of animal-human,
In the constant conflict between hedonism,
The worship of human-species,
And hysteric laughter of nihilism,
The human of Darwin and Marx:
The discoverer of the laws of evolution and social revolution,
Creatures of dead material conditions,
The human of Nietzsche: pride of the power of health
And the self-destructive embodiment of
“I am the creator of my own values.”
The human of John Stuart Mill:
The calculus machine of pleasure.
I am the suspension of equilibrium between belonging and independence,
I am the suspension of belonging-equilibrium between the inside and outside,
I am the suspension of belonging-equilibrium between the individual and society,
I am the suspension of belonging-equilibrium between the concept and the world,
I am the suspension of belonging-equilibrium between the particular and the universal,
I am the suspension of belonging-equilibrium between love and need,
I am the suspension of belonging-equilibrium between this speck of dust and the presence of God.
The Didactic Discussion
When the glorious feeling of existence,
Within the healthy blood of my body
Opened up the pores of my skin to the world,
I thought I am something of my own:
Independent, strong,
Standing upon the throne of my capabilities,
And along with Nietzsche:
Taking the power of my health,
As the ground of my own existence,
Thus calling myself Übermensch god,
And falling into abyss of disconnection.
I had to live the Way, the Night, and the Day,
Until I crumbled upon myself,
Like the play paper of cats,
To fall apart,
Like children’s house of sands.
I had to live the 19th century,
In the contradictory nightmare of the delusion of animal-human,
In the constant conflict between hedonism,
The worship of human-species,
And hysteric laughter of nihilism,
The human of Darwin and Marx:
The discoverer of the laws of evolution and social revolution,
Creatures of dead material conditions,
The human of Nietzsche: pride of the power of health
And the self-destructive embodiment of
“I am the creator of my own values.”
The human of John Stuart Mill:
The calculus machine of pleasure.
I had to live the 20th century:
With Russell, Wittgenstein, and Goodman
With Quine, Gödel, and Chomsky
And now with the new Golden Calves:
Žižek, Badiou, and Deleuze…
To understand that: “The difficulty is to realize the groundlessness of our believing.”
(Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein: 166)
And with Foucault to live the death of autonomous subject,
In the depth of nothingness.
The fool who thinks one has anything of oneself,
The one who has no memory of the destruction of towers and palaces and civilizations,
The fool who boasts at one’s beauty and health,
Because one hasn’t yet lived the agony of being crumbled,
The fool who assumes
The pure and practical reason
Is only a tool for the evolution of animal human for survival,
And then ridiculously calls one an independent “autonomous subject”.
The fool when the golden rains of vision and inspirations
Fall upon them,
And they call them their own.
Because the breath that we inhale and exhale,
And the joy and happiness that shroud our hearts,
The experience of existence and the wonder of being,
Nothing,
Is my own.
I have lived this in certainty.
And the fool who from this lived experience,
With the chaotic force of negation,
Does hollow human being from within,
And declares the death of subject,
And slips in relativism, nihilism, and self-destruction.
With Russell, Wittgenstein, and Goodman
With Quine, Gödel, and Chomsky
And now with the new Golden Calves:
Žižek, Badiou, and Deleuze…
To understand that: “The difficulty is to realize the groundlessness of our believing.”
(Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein: 166)
And with Foucault to live the death of autonomous subject,
In the depth of nothingness.
The fool who thinks one has anything of oneself,
The one who has no memory of the destruction of towers and palaces and civilizations,
The fool who boasts at one’s beauty and health,
Because one hasn’t yet lived the agony of being crumbled,
The fool who assumes
The pure and practical reason
Is only a tool for the evolution of animal human for survival,
And then ridiculously calls one an independent “autonomous subject”.
The fool when the golden rains of vision and inspirations
Fall upon them,
And they call them their own.
Because the breath that we inhale and exhale,
And the joy and happiness that shroud our hearts,
The experience of existence and the wonder of being,
Nothing,
Is my own.
I have lived this in certainty.
And the fool who from this lived experience,
With the chaotic force of negation,
Does hollow human being from within,
And declares the death of subject,
And slips in relativism, nihilism, and self-destruction.
این دستهای جان پولیوکا ست در آخرین نفسهای زندگی اش پیش از مرگ، دیشب (12/28/2017) . پس از سالها قطرات اشکی بر چشمهایش لغزید. چند ماه پیش مرد تنومندی بود با اعتقادی راسخ به راه مصرانه خویش. معروف بود به لجوج بی دینی که هیچ حرفِ به زعم او غیر منطقی را نمی توانست تاب آرد. برای من مثل برادر بود. برای پسرم مثل پدر دوم. در سوگش به دریغی تلخ گریستم. این شعر را پس از دیدن این عکس تمام کردم
«نوری در خانه شکننده من»
به فاعل خدا مختار (theonomous subject)
،در خون خویش رسیدم
آنگاه که مچاله شدم
چون کاغذ بازی گربه ها
آنوقت که فرو ریختم
،جون خانه شنی بچه ها
:و راز نور را تجربه کردم
من—این تا شدگیِ جدایی و اتصال
من—این تعلیق تعادل تعلق و استقلال
من—این تعلیق تعادل تعلق درون و بیرون
من—این تعلیق تعادل تعلق فرد و اجتماع
من—این تعلیق تعادل تعلق مفهوم و دنیا
من—این تعلیق تعادل تعلق خاص و عام
من—این تعلیق تعادل تعلق عشق و نیاز
من—این تعلیق تعادل تعلق جسم خاکی و حضور خدا
******************************************************
«بحث آموزشی»
وقتی که احساس اعظم بودن
در خون سلامت جسم من
منافذ بودنم را باز کرد به جهان
:من فکر کردم که چیزی از آن خویش
مستقل، مستحکم، استاده بر سریر توانایی خویش
و همراه با نیچه: ذات قدرت سلامت خویش را
دلیل بودن خویش پنداشتم
پس خویش را ابر مرد و خداوندگار خویش نامیدم
و در قعر انفصال فرو رفتم
به چه دل خوش کرده بودی پولیوکا؟
باید می زیستیم: راه را و شب را و روز را
تا بر هم مچاله شوم
،چون کاغذ بازی گربه ها
بر هم فرو ریزم
،چون خانه شنی بچه ها
باید قرن نوزدهم را می زیستم
در کابوس متناقض توهم حیوان-انسان
،در تعارض دائمی لذت جویی، پرستش نوع انسان
.و خنده های هیستریک پوچ گرایی
انسان داروین و مارکس: کاشف قانون تکامل و انقلاب اجتماعی
،مخلوق شرایط مادیِ بیجان
انسان نیچه: فخر بر قدرت سلامت
«.و تجسم خود-ویرانگر «من خالق ارزشهای خویشم
انسان استوارت میل: ماشین محاسبه لذت
،چو رهنمون عمل اخلاقی
باید قرن بیستم را می زیستم
آنگاه که با راسل، ویتگنشتاین، و گودمن
با کواین، گودل، و چامسکی
...و حالا با گوساله های سامری جدید: ژیژک، بدیو، دلوز
(بفهمم که «دشواری، تشخیص بی اساسی [منطقی] باور کردن ماست» (ویتگنشتاین
"The difficulty is to realize the groundlessness of our believing."
(Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein: 166)
(Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein: 166)
(the death of subject) و با فوکو مرگ فاعل خودمختار
.را در بطن هیچی زندگی کنم
احمق مردا که تصور کند که چیزی از آن خویش دارد
.که هیچ یادی از تاریخ ویرانی برجها و کاخها و تمدن ها ندارد
احمق مردا که بر زیبایی و سلامت خویش فخر برد
.که رنج و مچالگی را هنوز نزیسته است
احمق مردا که گمان دارد
خرد نظری و عملی
تنها ابزار تکامل حیوانی بشر برای بقاست
.نامد ( autonomous subject)و بعد مضحکه وار خویش را فاعل خود مختار
احمق مردا که وقتی باران های طلایی بصیرت و الهام بر او فرو می ریزد
خویش را مستقل تصور کند
زیرا نفسی که فرو می رود و بر می آید
احساس وجد و مسرتی که بر دل می نشیند
تجربه بودن و حیرت از هستی
هیچکـــــــــــــــــــــــــــدام
از آن من نیست
.این را به یقین زیسته ام
و احمق مردا که از این تجربه زیسته
با نیروی آشوبگر نفی
انسان را از درون تهی کند
و مرگ سوبژه را اعلام دارد
و به نسبی گرایی و پوچی و خود ویرانی
.فرو لغزد



