Passionvine

Sunday, October 20, 2024

Prose is

Prose is ..

The freedom, not imposed, rather dipped into the sparkling sun upon the waters, with an oar dripping drops of water like diamonds never mined, whose precious sparkles recede again into eternal fingers of rivers flowing, an ocean ebbing, the fog lifting, the snow melting,

The watercourse way, untethered, expanding, contracting, life, untamed, unfathomable …..

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The Dismantling of Wisdom

“The reason we go to poetry is not for wisdom, but for the dismantling of wisdom.”

–Jacques Lacan

> I prefer poetic prose rather than poetry.

In 150 words of poetic prose draw out what Lacan might be indicating here.

∞ We seek poetry not to uncover answers but to unravel the very foundations of certainty.

Lacan suggests that within verse lies the power to dissolve the structures of thought that confine us. Wisdom, often held as the pinnacle of human understanding, becomes a cage of familiar truths.

Poetry, in contrast, is the hand that shakes the bars loose, allowing us to glimpse the chaos and fluidity of existence.

It is not in poetry’s intent to teach, but to unmake; to pull apart the seams of constructed meaning, offering a momentary freedom in ambiguity. In this dismantling, we are invited to wander, lost and liberated, among fragments that resist coherence.

Perhaps in this space, Lacan sees the real—beyond the symbolic order, where wisdom ceases to be solid and becomes instead a fleeting echo in the vastness of the unspoken.∞

> Next iteration. In this we leave Lacan out of the picture and we instil more poetry into the prose. The title is "The Dismantling of Wisdom". The voice of the prose is a wanderer, like the elders of India who used to wander alone in the forest after retirement. Or perhaps still do. 150 words.

∞ **The Dismantling of Wisdom**

I walk the forest path, not to find answers, but to watch the world unravel. Wisdom, once a crown upon my brow, grows heavy with its knowing. The trees whisper of a deeper truth, one that slips through the fingers of thought. Here, in the quiet pulse of earth, wisdom crumbles like dried leaves underfoot, turning to dust in the wind. The path ahead offers no revelations, only the soft undoing of certainty.

What is wisdom but a tether, pulling us toward the same familiar shores? I seek no shores now. I seek the river, the current that sweeps away all solid ground. In this dismantling, I become weightless, unburdened by the need to know.

I walk not for the destination, but for the way the light shifts between the branches, for the quiet chaos beneath the wisdom we cling to, as it dissolves into silence. ∞

Sunday, September 29, 2024

It’s been awhile…

Hoping you like my beautiful world. It’s a pleasure to share with kind open hearted folk. With good intentions. Thank you.

I’ll post my walk today. Min a nearby forest. Hope you enjoy. Maybe I’ll sneak in a few home photos.

When I started a bunch of blogs it was because I was teaching myself html. It was a nice way to make many s atonal creative changes and expand my knowledge.

When google took over they were always on my blog and they used some of my stuf to make it easy for ppl to do what I was doing using hemp. I didn’t get a penny. No.

So doesn’t matter. I know. lol.

Hope you enjoy my photos.