autumn

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autumn is coming to an end, at least that is how it feels. it rained yesterday, and here rain is winter. autumn for me was living with spiders. my garden room is full of them – they come and go through the gaps in the crooked window frames, they spin cobwebs all over the room, sometimes i find traces of them in dreams, in my bed in the morning and through bites on my body. cohabitation. i’m enjoying the proximity of these creatures a lot.

memories of other autumns pass by. autumn 2004 – profound exhaustian, agony and sadness. the breakdown, the fall. made soft by winter and spring in istanbul. autumn of 2005 – dancing joy and happiness. contente d’etre heureuse, as they say in that beautiful circus that came to visit saint-gilles. torn away from that by the winter in santa cruz. and now autumn in santa cruz. it’s gentle. gentle compared to the intensities of previous years. and gentle compared to this summer, with the beautiful intensity of the caravan of friends and the angry intensity of my santa cruz resentment. gentle with lots of nest warmth and writing solitude. and some class adventures and some political challenges that i don’t quite manage to live up to in the flow of this writing life.

and in some hours time i’m flying to london – oh, a radical different intensity of things to come, perhaps, who knows, a second autumn.
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(maría’s photos, of course)

for you

this summer back home i began to buy, in beautiful Tropismes, the works of Luce Irigaray. i feel how i keep on “thinking with” (this is maría’s mark) her and decided that i wanted to read and re-read her, in french. this autumn i’m reading quite some Judith Butler, and through her i stumbled upon Adriana Cavarero this evening. next time back home i’ll try to get some of her work, in italian. (oh, italian in need of practice, yesterday by accident, madonna, a spanish word crept into il mio italiano un po’ strano and it did not make giulia happy… pero giulia, sempre quando provo a parlare spagnola, le parole italiane vengono, voilà…) for the moment, Cavarero through Butler, on sociality:

“In her view, I am not, as it were, an interior subject, closed upon myself, solipsistic, posing questions of myself alone. I exist in an important sense for you and by virtue of you. If I have lost the conditions of address, if I have no “you” to address, then I have lost “myself”. In her view, one can tell an autobiography only to another, and one can reference an “I” only in relation to a “you”: without the “you” my own story becomes impossible.”

i don’t think it’s a coincidence that i’m interpellated and attracted so much by words like these, and Irigaray’s, and maría’s (who’s working with Haraway’s words) while being here in America, where i’m confronted so much with the sociality of the “I”. i’ve been tempted for a while now to write a small little intimate poetic personal-political-collective book about this america, as an investigation into individualism (…freedom…independence… the public /common good… and what i’ve come to call suburbia-subjectivity) and now a genealogy of thought to have conversations with is starting to shape up: irigaray, cavarero,… this involves re-appropriating european feminist thought, as sexual difference thinking isn’t exactely the most popular way of thinking nowadays, between equal opportunities and all things queer. and i like the thought of being an unfaithful blasphemous and recalcitrant daughter-thinker of irigaray, with her original basque connection, her forgotten belgian and leuven connection where there never was a place for her, fleeing away in, and then from, a violent psychoanalytical french connection and finding a political community through a communist italian connection.

what would it mean to start thinking here, in this america, that i exist only by virtue of you?

back in SC (light)

i enjoy the jetlag this way around. get up at 6.30, feeling fresh and eager. breakfast with leta. the chilly evening and morning air had made be believe that autumn had already installed itself, but leta tells me there’s a bit of an indian summer in the afternoons. she’s right. the light is so golden and tender.

yet autumn is in the air. the overwhelming thick and sweet smell of blooming flowers and trees that had filled the streets around our house during spring and summer is gone. the air is brisk now. (and what a pleasure to breath in fresh oxygen after more than 14 hours of flying and passing time in airports…)

and then there are the redwoods and the smell of autumn forest. i realize it’s the redwoods that impress me most here, far more than the ocean.

something monastic about coming back in this season. preparing for a period of writing in the quietness and natural beauty of this place. (meaning i’ve put up a number of walls, shutting out the parts of santa cruz i don’t like)

translated in flemish

just received the corrected flemish version of an article i wrote. (well, dutch i suppose, when it’s about a written text and not the more embodied oral form of this language i have learned to recognize as flemish so long ago, but it is strange to re-baptise one’s mothertongue… oke, op school kregen we “nederlands”, dat is waar, maar toch, daar ging het juist vaak over geschreven taal…) my piece was first translated from english into dutch by someone from the Tijdschrift voor Humanistiek, then corrected by johanna. the language artist she is.

i write my academic work in english, and in some way it has become more easy to write “academese” in english than in dutch. which has much to do with practise, if i’d write more frequent dutch-academese i’d get more fluent at it, no doubt. like how my french-academese came, and subsequently went, with that year of studying in Louvain-la-Neuve… but there is also something particular about the language. it strikes me every time i get translated. the way in which many of the words and concepts i use in english-academese don’t translate into dutch-academese.

take for instance a keyterm in the title of the article: subjectivity. a quick google gives an indication of prevalence: subjectivity – 5.560.000 hits; subjectivité – 1.070.000 hits; subjectiviteit – 125.000 hits. this of course is a very lousy way of comparing, but often when i use google to check how common a term translated in dutch is, i actually find out that there’s no hit at all (i almost wrote, that it doesn’t exist, but i should pay more attention not to take google as a standard of existence…). (human) agency, for instance, is untranslatable in the sense that i seek to use it, and always needs a description or defining footnote. governmentality is difficult to translate. plurals of these kinds of concepts, like subjectivities, agencies but also futures, epistemologies, vary between heavy and impossible. it seems that there’s a wall of resistance against poststructural insights and theories in flemish/dutch. and it’s definately true that there’s not much of a culture that feeds and fosters thinking and writing and intellectual debate in flanders. if anti-intellectualism is a characteristic of public debate in the United States, i think it’s even more the case for Flanders.

yet the challenge of course is precisely to create new visions and words – even new grammars? – out of the language we have. more language artists needed! (i’m definately not one of them…) not sure these days if this work of translating is enough. of course there are so many crucial texts that are not available in dutch/flemish, but it’s equally the case that existing translations are often awkward and don’t really connect, take root.

and my english-academese? it actually celebrates its 10th anniversary this year. i began to learn how to write english during the M.A. in women’s studies at University College Dublin, in 1996. and i have continued to use english for academic purposes ever since – i never really switched back to dutch- or french-academese. which doesn’t mean that english has become the language in which i write most fluently. actually, it’s not a happy birthday, i’m not happy with english these days. and it’s interesting how different languages lend themselves to different registers of speech. in which languages, and with which accents, do you speak in your dreams? to animals? to amoureux and amoureuses? (see, here english fails miserably) to babies and children? to official institutions? to political companer@s? to people with whom one shares one’s mothertongue and to those with whom one doesn’t? to one’s families?

after the article was checked for language by 4 different people, myself included, this is how the title came out: in english “On stony grounds.” Female religious subjectivities in the battle over modernity. in dutch “On stony grounds.” Vrouwelijke religieuze subjectiviteit in the strijd om de moderniteit. (and “on stony grounds” is an expression by Stuart Hall who paraphrases Antonio Gramsci, translated from italian to english)

i’m writing a lot these days. the brussels apartment is generous to me. there is no phone line, no internet connection, which changes the nature of a space radically. it is not an open space these days, although it can take people in, and it is not a connected space, although it does not stand on its own. but it is small and contained, like a miniature which captures full presence and concentration.

on the hill

IMGP3948.JPG The desolation of the place. UCSC campus in summer is the next bit of evidence i have that these American-style campuses don’t work. Okay, i admit, there’s a bit of dishonestly in that claim: UCSC doesn’t count as a typical american campus. As a result of the experiment in decentralisation – i.e. the project of dropping a number of buildings randomly in a forest, in the name of having self-managed small communities (in colleges) – every attempt at creating some kind of beating heart is even more of a serious struggle against social geography than on the classic campus model with a central square.

Please don’t get me wrong, you know that self-managed small communities are not part of things i consider problematic. The problem is that, without any real decentralisation of power – especially in the case of the University of California system, where decisions affecting the SC uni are not only taken by the governing board on campus but also between the different UC governing bodies – this decentralisation of the students smells like nasty fragmentation. Then there’s the physical geography: the fact that the campus is on the top of a hill outside of town in a way that does not challenge the expression “ivory tower” further than the adjective used.

IMGP3951.JPG Anyway, we went to campus to today. We worked a bit, so we’re not complaining, and we ended up doing other beautiful things – there is no doubt that this is a beautiful place. But it continues to alienate me with respect to my work, it is as if i need to find all the force and courage to work despite the environment, when i know of so many environments that push me to sit down at a corner of a table or a sofa in midst of life’s joys and tragedies and business. You see, when Virginia Woolf wrote “think we must”, she was thinking of all of these places daily life takes us through, busses and streets and… But not easy to catch a bus here these days.

***

IMGP3952.JPG Dinner at our house. We have a new house-mate who will stay with us for a little while, Mihui, a high school friend of Cynthia’s. She’s taking refuge from the east coast; came to California, where she also grew up, to recover. Undergraduate at Harvard (bad start), law school at Columbia (got worse), working for a judge in court (Boston, New Orleans) (it gets tougher) and working for a big law firm (L.A., New York) (total burn-out). The remedy: hanging out in the house, having tea and conversation sessions with all of us, reading bad chick lit (like Mr. Maybe) with covers she tries to hide when she’s reading in public spaces, and feeding us court stories which leave us with stomach pains from laughing laughing laughing…

working house

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A warm lazy sunday in a house full of working people (yes, i am going to finish that article today, for real…).
Note who is the wise & healthy one, not attained by the virus…

a little revolution of sorts

IMGP3758.JPG I’ve been busy writing again these days, will need to be writing till we leave for Yosemite. So it’s a bit of the usual writing mood but somehow it’s less holy – more mundane and more relaxed. Been working a bit in my favorite cafe this weekend, installed in the armchair opposite the yellow one that you can see. Pergolesi is a good place to hang out and actually get work done. Meanwhile i would so much like to finish my notes about the spiritual activism conference, but i’m a afraid it might not happen before Yosemite. But i still feel like sharing a taste of what i felt was going on at the conference, so i’ve copied some paragraphs from a book i bought there and that i’m reading at the moment.

The book is called “The Irresistible Revolution” and is written by Shane Claiborne. Shane is a founding member of The Simple Way in Philly, one of these (“intentional”) communities of radical evangelical Christians that are popping up like mushrooms all over the county. Especially on the east coast is my first impression. But then again, the conference was on the east coast, so that impression might be biased. At the same time, there’s a wide range of other kinds of spiritual intentional communities on the west coast, so that there might be less specific evangelical ones. Does it make a difference? For those of you for whom any kind of spirituality (including the witches!) is suspect or profoundly flawed, it probably doesn’t. But the thing is that at the moment evangelical Christianity is married to other conservative and right-wing forces who all together are slowly (although not so very slowly…) ruining this country and this world. Carrying a “revolutionary” radical agenda within evangelical Christianity at this point in time comes very close to a waging a struggle from (within) the belly of the beast.

irresistible.jpg The book very much reflects at least one thing that i saw in action at the conference: the articulation (combination) between what we recognise as left-wing positions (very strong on redistribution of wealth, starting from the lives of the poor, very strong on anti-war/peace and anti-torture, strong on hospitality, insisting on community, strong on anti-racism and anti-patriarchy, strong on the environment, insisting on radical love) and religious (in the case of the conference, also non-religious spiritual) beliefs and practices.

There is much more to say about this tendency, about the conference, but i want to anticipate the stories to come with the affirmation that this articulation is taking place here in the U.S. To what extent – i don’t know. In Shane’s paragraphs below there is a sense that their way of doing church is gaining momentum. During the conference the Washington Post ran a front-page article claiming “The religious left is back!”. Frankly, i don’t know how much this reflects a real social force or movement. Susan tentively ascribes more real force to evangelicals who disagree and dissociate with the current regime out of a more conservative agenda. The nice thing is to be able to do these investigations parallel to hers, so we cover different movements within evangelical Christianity away from the current unholy alliance with the political right-wing. The thing that is becoming more and more clear: a good number of important movements (movements that in fact could end this regime, something the liberal left on its own seems quite unable to do) are happening within the realm of religion in this country. Some of Shane’s words now:

“Meanwhile, many of us find ourselves estranged from the narrow issues that define conservatives and from the shallow spirituality that marks liberals. We are thristy for social justice and peace but have a heard time finding a faith community that is consistently pro-life [note: this is a re-appropriation of the “pro-life” discourse of the christian right] or that recognizes that there are “moral issues” other than homosexuality and abortion, moral issues like war and poverty. So some folks just end up trying to save individual souls from their sins, and others end up trying to save the world from “the system”. But rarely do we see that the sickness of our world has infected each of us, and that the healing of our world not only begins within us but does not end with us. I recently received a letter from a young man that read “I am alone, surrounded by unbelieving activists and inactive believers. Where are the true Christians?” A “silent majority” is developing as a growing number of folks are deliberately distancing themselves from the noise and arrogance that have come to mark both evangelical Christianity and secular activism.”

“I have a confession I’m sure many of you will find refreshing and familiar: I don’t really fit into the old liberal-conservative boxes, so it’s a good things we are moving on to something new. My activist friends call me conservative, and my religious friends call me liberal. What I often get branded is “radical”. I’ve never really minded that, for as my urban-farming friends remind me, the word radical itself means “root”. It’s from the Latin words radix, which, just like a rad-ish, had to do with getting to the root of things. But radical is not something reserved for saints and martyrs, which is why I like to complement it with ordinary. Ordinary does not mean normal, and I lament the dreadful seduction which has resulted in Christians becoming so normal. Thanksfully, there is a movement of ordinary radicals sweeping the land, and ordinary people are choosing to live in radical new ways. So this is a book for ordinary radicals, not for saints who think they have a monopoly on radical and not for normal people who are satisfied with the way things are.
So I am radical in the truest sense of the word: an ordinary radical who wants to get at the root of what it means to love, and to get at the root of what has made such a mess of our world. And many of my heroes were “radicals,” trying to get back to the roots of Christianity. In the past, being labeled radical was nice because it made me feel sassy, and I never had to worry about folks taking me too seriously. It was a word you used ot write someone off, usually folks who exaggerated the truth that the world was neglecting. But something strange has happened. Either I’m no longer radical, or there are a lot of ordinary radicals out there. People are actually paying attention. The question if no longer what to do if nobody listens but what happens when people actually take us seriously.”

“There is a beautiful moment in the Bible when the prophet Elijah feels God’s presence. The Scriptures say that a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart, but God was not in the wind. After the wind, there was an earthquake, but God was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. It was the whisper of God. Today we can hear the whispter where we least expect it: in a baby refugee and in a homeless rabbi, in crack addicts and displaced children, in a groaning creation. In the words that Indian activist and authors Arundhati Roy proclaimed at the World Social Forum in Brazil, “Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.” The whisper cries out for God to save the church from us Christians and breath new life into the aging Body.”

“If by evangelical we mean one who spreads the good news that there is another kingdom or superpower, an economy and a peace other than that of the nations, a saviour other than Caesar, then yes, I am an evangelical.
No doubt, there is much noise in evangelical Christianity. There are many false prophets (and false profits) out there, and all kinds of embarrassing things being done in the name of God. Religious extremists of all faiths have perverted the best of our traditions. But there is another movements stirring, a little revolution of sorts. Many of us are refusing to allow distorted images of our faith to define us. There are those of us who, rather than simply reject pop evangelicalism, want to spread another kind of Christianity, a faith that has as much to say about this world as it does about the next. New prophets are rising up who try to change the future, not just predict it. There is a movement bubbling up that goes beyond cynicism and celebrates a new way of living, a generation that stops complaining about the church it sees and becomes the church it dreams of. And this little revolution is irresistible. It is a contagious revolution that dances, laughs and loves.”

library

IMGP3075.JPG Do you know this feeling of encountering the perfect working space, the space were you imagine you’d be able to create the most wonderful things? (By definition it is never your own working space.) I definately fell in love with the New York Library today.