Bothness, the Blindfolded Lynx Game

I got the spark (bzim) for this little article when I read a Edgar Wind quote, which offered images (among others) like :

  • a dolphin with an anchor
  • a turtle with a sail
  • a blindfolded bobcat

I found this in a Didi-Huberman small article, playing with dances of two concepts – which I like above all or almost.

Therefore I write all this to try to catch a blurry idea in my web, searching with words…

 

There’s a relation between “not knowing” and “knowing” : what is it made of, how does it move? Is there a frontier here? How does it move? If I increase my knowledge, do I lose something else?

Appearance/Disapperance as a dance, or a will – maybe like the fireflies, the lightning bugs in the night : they flickeremit signals.

To slow down to think about all things. To be fast to catch an event in flight.

 

festina lente : hâte-toi lentement : make haste slowly

 

DIALECTICAL Images : “involving the interaction of opposites”

A dolphin needs an anchor to experiment something. Like try to play badminton with your other hand (with a partner who does the same). It slows you. It triggers other things.

A turtle with a sail. Is she a dreamer? Does it give a 1% more power, sufficient to trigger a big something? What is a placebo? Can you be your own placebo? Meta?

A blindfolded lynx. He has to increase his other senses?

Bothness… Or a will to decrease something to win something else… It’s a way to find a way out, to open an oblique door…

 

Organizing Withdrawal

Broom and Pen : the “Decrease Level of Technology” Trick

Both Sides NOW

Opposite Course/Wrong Foot

“Biases to Pieces” – when life goes wrong, do something unusual

IMG_0556IMG_1572

Who are you? Mortal woman is less sweet;
The Heavens have richly decked and dowered you! Why
So restless? Why these wings upon your feet?”
“Few know me, Opportunity am I.
The reason that I never can be still
Is because on a wheel my foot does lie;
Unto my course no flight but matches ill,
Because, all are so dazzled as I run,
Wings on my feet I have maintained; I spill
My tresses forward that they flow as spun
Veil covering over face and bosom, so
In passing I be recognized by none;
Behind my head no single hair does grow,
So that he gazes vainly when maybe
I hasten by or look back as I go.”
“Tell me, who is it that does accompany you?”
“She is called Penitence: O take good care,
He does keep her who cannot capture me!
And you who chattering does waste time so rare,
Immersed in matters vain and manifold,
Alas, have you not seen, nor are aware
That I meanwhile have slipped out of your hold!”

Machiavelli

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