An appropriate poem to meditate on this Easter:
Death be not proud, though some have callèd thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better than thy stroake; why swell’st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die.
Here’s an image to reflect on during your Holy Saturday. The artist is Hans Holbein the younger…
Click on the image to make it larger…
Due to the intense demands of this semester I’ve been absent from this blog for a little too long. With the end of the semester drawing nigh however, I do plan to return to blogging in the space much more frequently in the near future.
For the last little why I’ve been making my way through Jacques Derrida’s
perplexing and brilliant Of Grammatology. While the journey through this work has at times been so frustrating that the prospect of watching Rebbeca Black’s Friday on loop seems like a more edifying way to spend my time, there have also been a surprisingly great deal of moments of profundity in my reading as well…
In the future I hope to blog a little bit more about Derrida and Of Grammatology in particular. For now I leave you with this quote in which Derrida both summarizes and reflects on the work of Rousseau…
In the experience of suffering as the suffering of the other, the imagination, as it opens us to a certain nonpresence within presence, is indispensable: the suffering of others is lived by comparison as our nonpresent, past, or future suffering. Pity [i..e. compassion] would be impossible outside of this structure, which links imagination, time, and the other as one and the same opening into nonpresence: [Rousseau:] “To pity another’s woes we must indeed know them, but we need not feel them. When we have suffered, when we are in fear of suffering, we pity those who suffer; but when we suffer ourselves, we pity none but ourselves”