Archive for the ‘books’ Category

The Cathar Trail 9: 4 June 2010 (Rue Bayard)

January 9, 2015

4 June, 2010, Toulouse

It’s synchronicity that I decided to pick up Junky by William Burroughs today. He observes that junk actually exists both in the psychological and physical margins of society. As he puts it:

“Junk is often found adjacent to ambiguous or transitional districts: East Fourteenth near Third in New York; Poydras and St. Charles in New Orleans; San Juan Létran in Mexico City. Stores selling artificial limbs, wig-makers, dental mechanics, loft manufacturers of perfumes, pomades, essential oils. A point where dubious business enterprise touches skid row.”

In Toulouse this modern liminal space can be found near the train station (“la gare“), perhaps even more specifically on Rue Bayard. The equivalent to Burroughs’ junky district: A place marked by marginal cafés, kebab joints, weird restaurants (one called, without a trace of irony, “Chicken Food”), telephone box and internet outlets, sketchy clothing shops and off-brand supermarkets. Even sitting outside a fairly stylish kebab resto, one can witness a deal going down: cars and lorries double-parked — boxes being moved around and suspicious looking plastic packages passed back and forth. The cops circle by in their heavy vans like sharks, but don’t dare stop to feed.

Of course, one other feature of these transitional spaces are small, independently run fly-by-night hotels, one of which I am currently staying in. This one’s not bad, all things considered, and surprisingly quieter than the hotel I happened upon a week ago on Rue Taur near the Capitole and the cathedral of Saint-Sernin. Rue Bayard, I think, is not where the party happens. But it’s certainly where folks come to pick up supplies…

Preface to the German Edition of 1883

January 1, 2015

“The preface to the present edition I must, alas, sign alone. Marx — the man to whom the whole working class of Europe and America owes more than to anyone else — rests at Highgate Cemetery and over his grave the first grass is already growing. Since his death, there can be even less thought of revising or supplementing the Manifesto. All the more do I consider it necessary again to state here the following expressly:

The basic thought running through the Manifesto — that economic production and the structure of society of every historical epoch necessarily arising therefrom constitute the foundation for the political and intellectual history of that epoch; that consequently (ever since the dissolution of the primeval communal ownership of land) all history has been the history of class struggles, of struggles between exploited and exploiting, between dominated and dominating classes at various stages of development; that this struggle, however, has now reached a stage where the exploited and oppressed class (the proletariat) can no longer emancipate itself from the class which exploits and oppresses it (the bourgeoisie), without at the same time for ever freeing the whole of society from exploitation, oppression and class struggles — this basic thought belongs solely and exclusively to Marx.

I have already stated this many times; but precisely now it is necessary that it also stand in front of the Manifesto itself.

London, 28 June, 1883

F. Engels”

From Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, The Communist Manifesto, ed. David McLellan (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 44.

William S. Burroughs’ The Junky’s Christmas

December 24, 2014


December 21, 2014

“My dear, I did not doubt that you would acknowledge I was right in much that I have said. Indeed, I am so bold as to think that presently you will come to agree with me, if not in every detail, at any rate in the main. But as yet you still scoff, and take the view that three-fourths of my ideas arise from contrariness of spirit, and that of the rest, at least half are to be put down to my sadistic nature. “If you are to be believed,” you write, “we must abandon the accepted idea that there are unnatural lusts and adopt the view that what we are wont to call perversions, masturbation, homosexuality, sodomy, or whatever these things are named, are innate tendencies of man, the common property of everybody’s nature.”

Have we not already had a talk about that word “unnatural?” To me it seems an expression of man’s self-glorification, that he likes to feel himself lord of creation. He divides the world into two parts; whatever pleases him at the time is for him natural; what he has an aversion to he calls unnatural. Have you ever yet seen anything at all that lay outside the realm of nature? For that is what is signified by the word unnatural. I and Nature, that is how man thinks, and never once is he troubled at the thought of his presumptuous self-deification. No, dear scoffer, whatever is, is natural, even if it seems to you to be contrary to rule, even if it goes against the law of Nature. Natural laws are the creation of men, one must never forget that, and if anything appears to be contrary to a natural law, that is only proof that the law is wrong. Strike the word “unnatural” out of your vocabulary, and there will be one stupidity the less in your speech.”

From Georg Groddeck, The Book of the It. Intro. Lawrence Durrell (New York: Vintage, 1961[1923]), 65-66.


November 25, 2014

Birds. They embody the un-embodied. They are as the very wind, a zephyr. Almost pure spirit — if not for the feathers. My attraction to them is echoed in all my worldly attachments, most of which aren’t that worldly. As you may have gathered by my photography and writing, I am drawn to the sky and stars.

I am also drawn to birds for this same — in alchemical terms — overabundance of spirit. I have been in turmoil, mind and body in a tortured battle for supremacy. This blind dualism has been further reinforced by a tumultuous and destabilizing romantic relationship. No doubt my Achilles heel, and as a Freudian analyst would say, yet another reason I like “birds”. The Id is a real pun-y guy.

Yesterday mind and body just collided…Bits came apart and things curled off in wild orbits, lacking any cohesiveness. The body was damaged — scarred but still fully functional — and the mind shifted uncomfortably.

And where was spirit? Somehow in the midst of all that spirit appeared. And it brought calm to what could have been an even worse situation.

This morning, after it was all over, I went outside. And there were the birds. There was a wet, foggy, quiet over everything, what one might call the ideal bird environment. It’s in those times when I think birds remember their deepest Jurassic roots. One might even say life remembers. Dinosaurs with feathers has always seemed like an apt phrase.

The birds were everywhere. Little songbirds — sparrows, finches, juncos — fluttered in and out among the leafless branches in the garden. The air was alight with “bird-ness”. A Stellar’s Jay, boisterous and bold, chased the smaller birds away from the neighbor’s feeder.

I decided to do more than step outside briefly and actually immersed myself in the space. I grounded myself, took a few breaths and found Malkuth very deeply…

And just as I opened my eyes an eagle soared across my field of vision and perched on one of the highest nearby trees. He displaced a companion, who settled on the top of another tree beside him.

As I just watched (I often ask now…When do we “just watch”?) these two regal incarnations of spirit I thought of a quote from a book I am currently reading — Eckhart Tolle’s A New Earth — that reminded me of why I — and in some way we all — like birds:

“Since time immemorial, flowers, crystal, precious stones, and birds have special significance for the human spirit. Like all life-forms, they are, of course, temporary manifestations of the underlying one Life, one Consciousness. Their special significance and the reason why humans feel such fascination for and affinity with them can be attributed to their ethereal quality.

Once there is certain degree of Presence, of still and alert attention in human beings’ perceptions, they can sense the divine life essence, the one indwelling consciousness or spirit in every creature, every life-form, recognize it as one with their own essence and so love it for themselves. Until this happens, however, most humans see only the outer forms, unaware of the inner essence, just as they are unaware of their own essence and identify only with their own physical and psychological forms.

In the case of a flower, a crystal, precious stone, or bird, however, even someone with little or no Presence can occasionally sense that there is more there than the mere physical existence of form, without knowing that this is the reason why he or she is drawn towards it, feels an affinity with it. Because of its ethereal nature, its form obscures the indwelling spirit to a lesser degree than is the case with other life-forms. The exception to this are all newborn life-forms — babies, puppies, kittens, lambs, and so on. They are fragile, delicate, not yet firmly established in materiality. An innocence, a sweetness and beauty that are not of this world still shine through them. They delight even relatively insensitive humans.

So when you are alert and contemplate a flower, crystal, or bird without naming it mentally, it becomes a window for you into the formless. There is an inner opening, however slight, into the realm of spirit. This is why these three “en-lightened” life-forms have played such an important part in the evolution of human consciousness since ancient times; why, for example, the jewel in the lotus flower is a central symbol of Buddhism and a white bird, the dove, signifies the Holy Spirit in Christianity. They have been preparing the ground for a more profound shift in planetary consciousness that is destined to take place in the human species. This is the spiritual awakening that we are beginning to witness now.”*

As I continued to turn this idea — the symbolic bird — around in my mind I also tried to get beyond the “I” of it. Of what it means to me. Today, because of the “news” of the world, I thought of Maya Angelou’s I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, a book largely devoted to her experiences of racism growing up in the southern US. I reflected on the powerful sway of ego in the world we live in, and of the way it generates notions of race and of identity — both as it is lived and as it is projected onto the living. I think the final stanza of the poem that the book’s title centres around is a universal (that isn’t universal):

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom

For much of the last few months I have bemoaned what I perceived as my own loss of freedom, something that has been difficult for me to understand and accept. In truth I have access to a kind of freedom, a kind of privilege, if you will, that many do not have. And yet, in a way as the above quote suggests, we can all have access to that privilege — that freedom. And this is true even when we aren’t free.

I don’t know what that means. It doesn’t mean much.

But it does leave me with a question:

When did we start caging birds at all? And why?

*Quote From Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose (New York: Plume [Penguin], 2006), 3-5.

The Way

November 3, 2014

“…The individual must devote himself to the way with all his energy, for it is only by means of his integrity that he can go further, and his integrity alone can guarantee that his way will not turn out to be an absurd misadventure.”

From C.G. Jung, Psychology and the East, Trans. R.F.C. Hull (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978), 20.


October 18, 2014

“To some extent the rigid distinction between ego and environment is equivalent to that between mind and body, or between the voluntary and involuntary neural systems. This is probably the reason why Zen and yoga disciplines pay so much attention to breathing, to watching over the breath (anapanasati), since it is in this organic function that we can see most easily the essential identity of voluntary and involuntary action. We cannot help breathing, and yet it seems that breath is under our control; we both breathe and are breathed. For the distinction of the voluntary and the involuntary is valid only within a somewhat limited perspective. Strictly speaking, I will or decide involuntarily. Were it not so, it would always be necessary for me to decide to decide and to decide to decide to decide in an infinite regress. Now the involuntary processes of the body, such as the beating of the heart, do not seem to differ very much in principle from other involuntary actions going on outside the body. Both are, as it were, environmental. When, therefore, the distinction of voluntary and involuntary is transcended within the body, it is also transcended with respect to events outside the body.”

From Alan Watts, “The Way of Liberation in Zen Buddhism.” In The Way of Liberation: Essays and Lectures on the Transformation of the Self (New York: Weatherhill, 1983), 13-14.


October 6, 2014

“…Symbols are not invented, they are there, and belong to an inalienable estate of man; indeed, one might say that all conscious thought and action are the unavoidable consequence of unconscious symbolization, that mankind is animated by the symbol.”

From Georg Groddeck, The Book of the It. Intro. Lawrence Durrell (New York: Vintage, 1961[1923]), 49.


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