The
sense of sense
The
sense of sense, that is the breath of the word without which man is
not, the breath
of the humanizing word.
The matrix of humanity. A word which has to take again and again its
breath for not going out of breath.
Contrary
to the animal to which the 'sense' is so to speak given from the
start, man is the being in which sense decides about itself. The
animal 'never loses' the sense. Only man can lose it. It belongs to
him not only to keep it but to expand it. And that is not possible
without communion with Sense of sense.
Tell me the including sense behind the multiple included senses which govern your concrete existence, that is the total space of the 'house of sense' you live in and which gives you finally the breath to live and to survive.
The various levels of the sense are encased. A 'why' is not inevitably
the ultimate 'why'. It remains still and still a 'why' of 'why'. Each
constituted
sense is thus living by grace of a constituent
sense.
It is given in the space
of a larger and more fundamental sense which includes and carries it.
This constituting
sense is so discrete that usually it does not appear in full light.
It is like the heart in a body, you become only aware of it if it fails.
The
sense comes 'through'. The
Sense
of sense
emerges in gaping. Between extreme irreducible antagonisms. Through
what is undecided to make up a decision.
The
goal of our goals is in exodus.
Aren't the very important things for us always exposed to uncertainty
and at risk? To live. To die. To like. To create. To undertake. To
generate… As if the basic essentials were to be played in the
extreme dimensions where our 'same' can only surrender to the 'other'
of the mystery which carries us.
The
exodus makes you leave the space of the 'same'
to run the adventure on the side of the 'other'.
Not just the 'other' like a simple inoffensive abstract category
still captive of the sphere of the 'same', but the 'other
as other'
with all its indigestible dimensions. The 'other' which refuses to be
tamed. The 'other' you cannot enclose in the circle of comprehension.
This disturbing 'other' one is able to appear sometimes in the
euphoric register sometimes in that of catastrophe, too big and
disconcerting. The 'other' one which fulfils or the 'other' one which
crucifies. Birth or dead. Failure or success. Joy or sorrow. Sin or
grace… Right in the middle of our establishments the 'other' one
does not cease making irruption under the species of what is new,
unforeseen, surprise, shock, encounter, accident, good news or bad
news, bad luck or chance...
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