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Philosophy

Positive Philosophy

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In speaking we lose our words. The process itself may not be clear but the nature of the action still demands that we move further along this road. Reflection is a standing still, and this standing is how we will move. Movement is a journey back to ourselves – all movement is on this path, although the path has two directions. My speaking is of an indeterminate nature. By avoiding pitfalls we send signals to others. It is not that we stand here and there as alone and two. The signals are more in the character of a transmission. What is transmitted is not a something, nor is it even certain. The character of the transmission is a joining. In joining we are tempted to speak of union. But union, and even joining, tend to lead us towards an idea of two things becoming one thing, and that is not the direction we need to move in. So we have an inadequacy here. Perhaps a more appropriate understanding might be a moving between. Or even a moving in the between. We recall the quality of movement which interests us. Movement as coming towards, as causing to go across. A twofold action exists. Two not as in two but as a doubling. One becomes two, and so on. A pushing and pulling. We enter into transmission – the field as such of motion is found in pushing and pulling. To say 'is found' is the weaker sense of noting that pushing and pulling as such finds us in the field of motion. It would not be correct to say that we find ourselves here, however, unless we allow the view that we are precisely in this pushing and pulling. The space in between these motions is a question, but not a question we will ask. The grounds for such reticence lies in a lack of certainty — we are not certain there is a space, after all. It is more of a presumption – there must be a space or moment between an acceleration towards and away from – a transitionary point of zero magnitude but still existing. We hold that moment to exist in order to maintain the connection between the outward and inward movement. It is as if to thus prove that 'I' exist, and at the same time to declare openly the impossibility of such an event not existing. Thus we choose to withhold questioning not so much out of a holding back but as a general shying away from the results, positive or negative, of such a claim. We do not wish to present ourselves as ambassadors of either position. What is of interest – which is to say, what interests us – is rather the movement itself. Who, after all, can determine the presence of an absence?

By interesting ourselves in such a movement we direct our attention there. This direction, itself a focusing, which we would like to say takes us out of ourselves, really is a movement to the side, to the space in between, in which pulling and pushing occurs. Transmission is this prodding, which is to say that prodding becomes the organ of focus. We transmit by prodding in an undivided but still directionless way. Without direction says that prodding as such is not a directed activity. It is not a function of 'for' or 'because' or 'in order to'. The activity itself expresses the notion of movement towards our selves. We prod ourselves back to ourselves, and in so prodding begin an unendable process of re-union. In this re-union we in a sense re-join the others, but only because we in that moment are in the same movement. We are not the same, but we move the same, and the same moves us. Thus the interest in pushing, prodding etc. lies in the very possibility of you and I involving our selves in that very same activity, an activity in which we must turn back to ourselves, to the beginning question of 'what am I?', which might more effectively be re-phrased as 'how do I most effectively look into the functioning of my existence?'. Of course any questioning of this caliber must inevitably miss the mark. We are rather interested in the motions, in moving. Standing still becomes a precondition for movement.

But standing itself begins and ends with motion. We hold that we send ourselves away then reel ourselves back in. Expansion follows contraction. But to involve ourselves in this mechanism is failure in the sense that what we are searching for does not in any way lie 'outside of'. Which is to say that 'searching' can never yield any other but one result — or rather, two, in that the search may appear to fail to yield. We hold this failure as proof of contrariness and thus of the actuality of twofoldness. Failure however is just failure no matter how we decorate it. If we leave failure behind we enter into the sphere of motion. Motion as such calls us forward without strictly enunciating rules for itself or us. By calling us we find that the nature of abstraction, which has not inaccurately been itself called as delusion, becomes first questionable and in so becoming begins to attain a more fluid core and in this fluidity dissolves. Dissolution is the movement away from that leads towards, or back. 'Eternal return' while not inaccurate did not do much to clear this matter up. In dissolving we begin to note absences. Absences announce themselves by calling back to the dissolved in an attempt to regain fixity. But absence by its nature can only reach out, backwards, and so falls. Falling is the sign we look for, but only in the sense of regaining as looking forwards, ahead in the sense that our focus transmits itself out without direction. This transmission is the signal of calling, but always vanishes as we apply a name. In our search then we begin to learn to increasingly ignore the vanishing as past, and so at best only a sustaining element. We do not name the absent and in so not naming we move once again. Moving returns us to activity which itself pushes and draws in.

Allowing ourselves to enter into this arena is a step in which we feel ourselves awkward, unsuited. It rests in this sense of nakedness and in so resting the feeling as motion is not resisted. We stop resisting in order to allow movement. Movement flows outwards and increases in velocity in direct correlation to the decrease in holding back and drawing away from. The field of abstraction grows distant as we lower ourselves into the sand and begin to walk. In this walking we no longer hold some thing out before ourselves to pull us onwards. The push/pull motion is drawn steadily in until it becomes the center into which we, while not exactly gazing, direct our focus. We forge ourselves in ourselves. The out-sending as transmission begins a slow process of re-connection. We neither hold ourselves in nor push ourselves out. By maintaining the focus on the quality of movement we attempt to allow the unfixed enough room to develop. Standing guard when necessary we guarantee ourselves the requirements necessary to safeguard the process. Maintaining these requirements is not a secondary function. Failure to do so is a direct result of a general over-all failure. Such a failure roots itself in a general avoidance of oncoming signs. Incorrect interpretation of the necessary grounds of functionality if continued is an inexcusable side-stepping, a moving away from which makes itself possible only on a foundationless outpouring of activity. Following this outpouring leads away and signals itself by exhaustion. Exhaustion, and in general 'feeling bad' are not abstract notions to be removed by taking an aspirin, but rather signal towards the required. Returning to the required is movement motivated solely by necessity. The nature of responsibility lies in the acceptance of the necessity of following the signs as they present themselves to us. In so accepting we resume by assuming the obligation that presents itself continually. Obligation in this sense grows unavoidable, and thus unavoidability signals the presence as positive of moving towards the interior out of which flows that which obligates. Obligation ties us in the union and as tying transmits on its own frequency. Entering into this transmission turns on the acceptance of the obligation to do so, and so transmission revolves around the pivot of acceptance of the unavoidable. Such acceptance turns away from the superficial in which angels fly and faces the dull and seemingly uneventful with new eyes. We see the world as if for the first time. We settle thus for neither more nor less, and in accepting these as precisely the conditions we are given we enter into the domain of absolute resolution to the actual condition at hand. What is given is what gives. We put ourselves behind these conditions and thus situate ourselves in the actual locus of activity. What lies before us we sustain by our unavoidable obligation. Duty as such transforms itself from abstraction to foundation. We have no choice once we attain this condition. This lack of choice itself signals movement away from absence and reinforces the guarantee we made ourselves previously as we stood guarding over the very possibility of choice. In choosing this direction we lose all further possibility of choice as in the maintenance of a plurality of paths. The plurality boils and condenses into one, and so presents us with the fear of loss of choice, which itself as fear simply signals an unclear understanding. Freedom always follows and in following grows into itself. To do anything else than follow is in actuality a stepping-away from freedom and a return to the ongoing depletion. Depletion is not emptiness but rather points us towards a continuing moving away, an exertion away from that leads nowhere but nevertheless within which we come to believe we have found meaning – a meaning however which mysteriously seems to continuously slip out of our grasps precisely at the moment it seems to have grown most close.

Returning in this way finds us unsure but still looking. The looking itself dissolves and allows its particles to sustain the activity at hand. By so sustaining we as selves feel a sense of loss, but this loss itself signals a nothingness, which is to say an absence. By holding out the dissolution we are able to turn the looking back in a certain sense as the particles themselves double into separate forms, whose activity can then be observed. Sending out further we stop looking and trace such doubling back to its root. At this point we grow unable to speak. Given now a space within which quietness reigns we carefully modulate the outward pushing and inward drawing, making sure to keep the balance between these doubled aspects. By not speaking we find that the words, somewhat paradoxically, flow out more freely, unrestricted by the urge to communicate. Such urges themselves are weakness in that we want to do something, whereas what we can do has no particular correspondence to what we want. Returning to this 'can' begins a process of revolution, and in this slow turning we begin to throw off the accumulated matter. Such a throwing off must be at complete liberty – which of course means that liberty flows out of revolution. Neither liberty nor revolution contain points of definition, however, possessing rather a character which seems to counter-indicate any such tendencies. Thus we come again to a turning back to duty. We become free by accepting our obligation. The servant will always grumble about the ways of the master, never realizing that the master as such always turns back, away from him-self, to that which must be done. Freedom arises out of your self, and falls away in the same way. There is not a road that points itself out to you in this process, since there is never anything ahead other than this particularly driving sense of urgency. Allowing ourselves to be so driven by the weight of events becomes our only luxury, but an odd luxury which always holds back just enough to keep us from toppling over.

Twisting slightly we note that events do not so much drive as rather serve as an inverted form of sustenance. A useful example is the sight of an infant drawing milk out of its mother's breast, its little hands pushing out into the soft tissue. Events sustain us while giving exactly what further growth needs. Stepping away thus from beginning we note the continuously circular nature of the exchange. Entering into the circle we find that distinction becomes difficult, if not impossible. Allowing the 'we' to dissolve gives us a greater area in which to work. 'We' however does not fall away into a discarded heap of 'being taken for granted', but rather draws away from us, becoming a smaller and smaller point whose frequency of appearance remains illusive.

Realizing in its most fundamental sense begins to push us down a road in which we demand ourselves from ourselves. By so demanding we feed upon both what does not remain and what is merely given. What gives serves as an indication of itself, and so we too follow this guide. What we give serves only as an indication of our self. By so giving we allow ourselves to sustain a certain transmitability which in turn draws us back to itself by finer and finer degrees until the sense of revolution becomes absolutely complete. Sensing completeness we necessarily commence an out-flowing which if checked results in illness and at least a type of virulent infection. Avoiding infection thus transforms into an ongoing effort to release an out-flowing before the pressure of sustainability grows so great as to cause an inward collapse, or implosion. Time as such merely serves as a reminder of the necessary phases of this operation. By entering into the finitude of the connected moment we allow ourselves the simultaneous reconnection with the real, which as real manifests as the object, which in turn we revolve as a potter and wheel and then step back and in so stepping we call out creation and the manifold out of and into which we and it flow. We thus fall into an outpouring which is the only 'real' thing we can ever do, since all other activities cannot possibly feed back the given which gives. Entering into the circle at once enters into living and dying, but neither in life nor death do we find sufficient grounds to step in any other direction.

Maintaining the balance in this instance indicates the initiation of movement. Initiating is opening. Opening sends us outwards by involving us in risk. Risk presents itself when a choice is made. Choice making closes and opens, and so models the behavior we observe. By opening we develop possibility, and in choosing the developed we send ourselves away from the closed. The closed as actual never exists but haunts us with its possibility. As a phantom it floats out of our grasp, and we wisely turn away from this no-longer-existing. Choosing in this way we now see means rejecting that which has no meaning and falling into the arena of the projectable, but only as foundation which draws us on. Choosing does not involve 'making a choice'. The notion that we stand before our choices and then make one involves the misconception about what we are. We do not in fact choose but rather fall into. In this sense there can be a bad choice, if by bad we understand 'a falling away from'. Choosing as falling into puts us behind and allows us the freedom to move. This freedom is not a childish freedom that tries to follow its every whim. The freedom here moves towards itself and as such movement might be thought of as life.

We project ourselves out upon possibility. Possibility comes as that which presents itself on the basis of past projection. Drawing back from projection is accomplished by sending towards a past possibility, which as past exists only as a memory. By focusing on such remnants we lose sight of the possibilities of the present, and then also of the future. The general tendency is such a moving away from. Preferring the past is a function of security: – we want to be within the realm of the controlled. Control however does not function in this way. Control moves us out of the no longer possible into the now turning possible.

What turns us to the possible moves – we as well move on this foundation. Hesitation arises out of fear, which itself arises as a function of misinterpretation. We misinterpret one situation and so hold that 'there is' something outside of us to fear. We have, from another position, placed ourselves in a situation where fear is possible, which means we have made a 'bad choice'. A 'bad' choice, to return, moves us away from ourselves. What we focus on here is the movement towards ourselves – bad choices are left behind. To leave them behind we follow signs – a condition of 'feeling bad' signals bad choice – 'feeling bad' is an individually based sensation – the location of the bad feeling depends on where our strength lies. What is most strong is what breaks. It is up to the individual self (you) to determine which part of you is your strength. But the process of breaking also is the process of dissolution, if allowed to proceed unhindered. By breaking we allow a re-integration. Thus the urge to avoid suffering can also result in the avoidance of ourselves as one possible byproduct. Allowing the strongest component to break brings us into a more integrated system in which each component plays its proper part. Obstructions dissolve, the pain subsides. Allowing ourselves to suffer allows at once, although only in a negative sense, the onward flow. Focusing on suffering as a sign takes us further away, however, since now instead of allowing a re-integration of the dis-integrated we simply follow the disintegration. Re-integration turns us towards the process of rejecting the no longer useful and sustaining that which allows possibility to arise. The no longer useful becomes an excess which must be left behind if we wish to proceed. The useful determines the oncoming situation as the manifold which forms the new boundary or limit. Maintaining the no longer useful ties us to a limit that will require greater and greater energy to sustain. Such exertion results in exhaustion and is to be turned away from. Thus turning away guides us in a certain sense, but only if we allow ourselves to be pulled ahead, towards that which forms itself as an indefinite determination. Our movements send out impulses which continually test and probe this boundary line. Such a pushing outwards creates spheres and arenas of lesser resistance, and this relative vacuum pulls us into itself. This pulling movement frees us for our possibilities, and thus serves as the ground for all possible transmissions. We transmit this pulling-ahead-of-ourselves-towards-the-prodded-boundary. To name this process pulls us back, away from the edge of the probed outline.

If we pause to think the moments begin to slip away. By setting our sights far ahead of ourselves the act of questioning is given enough room to expand. The principle of entering into a vacuum is not limited to an outward pushing. We can also move inwards in the same manner. By noting this we begin to feel ourselves drawn into a world where images float by in a non-distinct way that alludes to but does not exact any commission. We move together even when we think we are alone. 'By the light we carry with us' means the strength of our sight. Moving out and away from is not so good as holding to the more central aspects of what moves us. By looking however we become confused. It is this twofold action of looking and becoming confused that we begin to realize that we are not looking to look out or in. We allow ourselves to get caught in this process but before we go too far down that line we have left ourselves. Once again – looking out and looking in are neither healthy nor productive. Our situation is governed by an actual set of circumstances which only is touched tangentially by the ideas we follow. Ideas as such rest inferior to the culmination of location and possibility. The possible lies in ourselves, as a root supports a tree. There is no otherness more real than this. Sometimes we have to step back from all of our thoughts and just watch ourselves in what we do. The character of our doing leads us towards ourselves provided we allow this doing to flow from inside of us. We carry what we are, and in existing we fulfill ourselves. Responding to the first flash of the emptiness of our surroundings can, but does not need to, call us back to ourselves. To know ourselves is not to add one more piece of knowledge to an expanding storehouse — quite the contrary – to know ourselves is to shrink this storehouse until we are left with only our selves, at which point we think we can relate the lack of content, or the rows of empty shelves, to ourselves somehow. This attempt to relate results in a comparison, or analogy, which yields the observation that what we have held as ourselves itself must be void of meaning. This point is called our existential crisis. The crisis comes out of the filling of the warehouse. If no filling occurs neither can a crisis. Since we as filled hold all to be filled, and name this state of being filled in the verb to be, we turn back the logic and note that when all empties 'we' empty and so are empty. Logic deceives. We do not follow logic. To do so is similar to a carpenter following his hammer. We use tools, but the point is not the tools but the construction. What we construct must carry us precisely into the empty space in which our worries abound. By allow ourselves to obsess on the nature or character of the emptiness we reinforce it. We besiege the structure and force the city walls to grow thicker. This is not a good strategy. Better is to watch the proceedings. The empty as empty performs as a vacuum and begins to draw into itself, or absorb. The motions at this point percolate within the emptiness, eager to find form. Any movement at this point can easily damage the incipient structure. While we are definitely not looking at a condition of birth or re-birth, there is an element of the new involved. The conditions have collapsed, and in collapsing have allowed the entry of a different, if not entirely new, set, or arrangement, of particles. Particles and waves do not separate, as we have seen. In this unity the process not only transforms but renews. At this point we do not send ourselves out but allow an integration, or re-structuring, to proceed. The forms change and in changing open towards the boundary area. The boundary zone itself has transformed as a result of the drawing in, or infusion. The arena grows more tight and restrictive and begins to exert pressure. This pressure forms an aspect of the re-infusion and so impresses the character of the boundary on the reintegrating field. If we can successfully stand in this process we begin to note slight shifts. Change as such floats out of the dissolved. Dissolution operates at its own speed, one which cannot be deliberately manipulated. To thoroughly empty ourselves leads us into a new possible, which itself has already drawn us in towards itself. The boundary lines grow fuzzy, and in the ensuing indistinctness we lose the ability to see, or look out. By allowing ourselves the luxury of existing in precisely this condition we do not try to force some other condition upon ourselves. Sending out now moves into an increasingly complete receptivity. As complete, receptivity must open and allow in what formerly bounded. The bounded feeds and sustains in this moment. To try and observe the process serves only as an impediment. Allowing the story to fulfill itself is a complete, or total, allowance. We permit ourselves to enter into our limitations, which is not a very high price to pay, since we will never be anything more than we are.

Before the moment of collapse we maintain our habits, or, more precisely, our habits continue to maintain us. Habit, however, as inevitably anterior, or past, cannot sustain in the way we have described. In collapse habit begins to loosen its hold on us. We strive to maintain it in order to reach familiar ground, but the ground moves under our feet. This movement indicates unreliability – we cannot trust what we have held as foundation. Maintaining our footing involves a no-longer-thinking-about-where-to-step. We reach out here, probe there, test the solidity of a foothold, suspend ourselves on a point. Finally we move, and in moving no longer know how it is so. Losing this how-it-is turns on a pivot of testing and probing. Without such tests we grow weary and look back longingly to a point which no longer exists. Detecting the uselessness of such looking carries us back to the problem at hand. Avoiding distraction then involves us in a process of re-integration, in that we are no longer drawn away from ourselves. We advance but without direction. Such advance consolidates rather than disperses. In consolidation we re-assemble ourselves by the testing and probing process already described. The results of each test and probe lead us on, and the willingness to accept the positive result of each push as more relevant than the habits they leave behind we call FAITH. Faith grows as we trust in the movements we ourselves make. A transmission without this quality has no convincing properties, and does not draw in nor send out with any force. Faith takes nothing for granted and returns the full load of responsibility to our own activity. Every action makes its mark on all subsequent actions – the path you follow eliminates all others. Thinking in this way is slightly deceiving, since there can never be more than one genuine way for you to move. The goal of testing, reaching out, allowing ourselves to be drawn and pulled apart, is simply the finding of this one path.

Indetermination is not something on its own – the indeterminate is revealed in hesitation and doubt. Doubt seeks certainty, and certainty pulls us further and further off our course. The degree to which we allow doubt to take a hold of us is the distance we allow ourselves to step away from ourselves. This distance causes anxiety and, depending on the strength of our constitutions, a variety of illnesses. Following these signals allows us to locate the source of the separation. Following to the source bypasses doubt and insecurity. Entering directly into the source allows its demolition. The source radiates outwards and it is these rays we trace back. Tracing in turn evolves, or turns on, erasing. By no longer moving outwards along the rays we stop the building up and proceed with a tearing down. Having torn down until we see only the source itself, we step to one side and allow it to dissolve. Such a dissolution provides a further flow of particles to enter into and create the bounded realm. From a focused collection we diffuse and thus re-integrate without a solid form. The essential key to this process lies in a complete re-cycling of the elements which had composed the obstacle. Without this recycling we find ourselves deflated and lifeless. Such a turning requires merely the ability to absorb, or open to that out of which we have composed ourselves. We open ourselves to our selves at our most fundamental level. By opening so completely we begin to see that what we previously saw as a closing off of possibility, or limitation, actually serves as a guide through which we can flow, like water through a canyon. The canyon walls do not impede the water, but rather direct it towards its final destination.

Concentrating on the obstruction itself presents a certain set of dangers. Concentration as obsession acts as direct attack, and thus forces a defensive re-action. We move against ourselves when we look to move with ourselves. We give ourselves such a set of problems by constantly re-engaging the working of habit. A habit holds us; we have it. We stand in the grasp of a problem set. If we attack directly our work increasingly will focus on this set, and leave behind a vacuum into which the problem will expand. Ignoring the problem will avoid this growth but will leave the source untouched. Sending out for assistance will weaken the boundary while standing still will actually move us back. We look in this situation for a 'Best choice' and so display our ignorance. We begin to collect information, not in order to increase our knowledge, but to strip away the layers that create the structure under observation. We send out from our situation towards some other almost visionary condition. The correction lies in an ability to send as a dispersing instead of as a directed outward flow. The difficulty here lies in our tendency to lance outwards. We are fighters but this is not the time or place for such action – but such action nevertheless must motivate us. The instinct to fight must be harnessed because what we are seeing here is that we are fighting against ourselves. We have reached a point that cannot be crossed or taken by ordinary means.

We are not moving in a standard geometrical space. The necessary steps will remain hidden, as will the direction of movement. We will no longer strive against but will turn to a striving for. This should not be mistaken for a striving for something, however. Striving involves us in work, and work radiates outwards. An outward radiation does not send out but diffuses. Diffusion penetrates into and through the determined, and allows new possibilities to arise that themselves exist beyond the bounds or influence of the actual object of the investigation. These possibilities then, through an inversion of the process, themselves radiate back through the determining boundary. We pull ourselves along these newly created opportunities; as floating we find ourselves before an un-expected port, a harbor which will shelter and sustain us. This movement is not optional, however. We follow this procedure because failure to do so guarantees the increasing impermeability of our limitations, which, if to function optimally, must retain a fluid degree of porosity.

We recall at this point that we are still in the arena of collapse. What we are has dispersed, leaving only certain conglomerations, or confluences. Because we are dispersed we are unable to see; we have completely lost our perspective. We are enveloped by a cloud like haze that almost prevents us from realizing that the rock that has loomed up ahead of us, while virtually impenetrable, is without substance, and thus has no attractive power. We do not need to be drawn into it, but can simply set a course around it. Such a course will involve a certain degree of exertion, but this should be welcomed rather than avoided. We open our arms to the possibilities presented to us. Such an opening allows for a further dispersion until finally, molecule by molecule, the rock is washed away, its particles turned to sea and sand.

Because we are standing within this process we hold ourselves as blind. Sight however is not a requirement. Moving without vision is not moving without seeing. By focusing in on the nature of movement we begin to slip away from the field of vision. We close our eyes and listen. By listening we separate out the material which we use to construct. The material no longer is held out towards ourselves in order to draw us on. Renewed action calls for careful preparation; we stand before the condition which makes ready. Inside of this condition lies no resistance. There are no points present; only the sea washes slowly in rhythmic pulses. Here there is no need to stand back. By working we engage properly, and in so engaging allow ourselves the luxury of sending out. Rather than sit within this enclosure, however, observing with the sharp gaze of a hawk, we satisfy ourselves with the more local. By filling ourselves with the local we gain in richness and step away from the rarified. Such a step reinforces in that the dispersion concentrates and grows together enough to allow a mass to form. The construction of this mass proceeds along lines which, although clearly laid out, remain invisible by necessity. Such invisibility protects against unwanted and misguided intrusion. The vibration of the mass itself now begins to be mistaken for movement, but such movement does not go outwards nor is it dispersed. It stands more as a sign of activation, as when yeast begins to bubble and froth, and so signals the life of the mass. Rather than causing concern or dismay these initial flickerings should result in celebration in the same way we celebrate the arrival of spring. We reach out and back and do not feel the need to resist. In not feeling we can, but do not, hold ourselves as non-motivated. The pulsating condition simply requires a concentration, a holding together. By so holding we move only in the movement contained in the mass itself. While there can be little room to doubt the efficacy of such a strategy if we use only an empirical model of testing, for some reason we leave this clear system behind and prefer to enter into worlds populated by phantasms. These in turn propel us onwards, away from the actually certain and ascertainable.

Opting then for the more efficient course turns us into the turning that by no coincidence just happens to fit the particular lock we are confronting. We turn, and in turning observe that no turn happens. What comes, pulsates and so creates the idea of turning and re-turning. We are not speaking of any thing here, and so are able to listen more comfortably. Listening itself begins to revolve slowly, absorbing the movements of the mass before transforming the very nature of the question. As we have noted, the question as fallen does not guide, while transformation we see merely brings the model across – and by so bringing-across the image loses its imaginary quality and gains substantiality. It is in a certain sense made real. But real here does not point towards a condition of existence as one object in a field so filled – no, rather as real transformation returns all qualities to their source. The real points to its source and carries this pointing as a welcome load, a standard against which judgement moves into its constructive realm. We stand so indicated, moving with the wind. The sound comes and goes, whispering our names. There is a place out of which we will never move once we have reached it. That is what there is to say, and, once said there is in that particular sense, nothing more to say.