Holy sparks

Homo photographicus, by Alex Epstein (published on FB)

The photographing man wishes to forget that the world (meaning he, his relatives, the stray cats sleeping on warm cars, autumn foliage, false teeth in a glass, an entire set of Encyclopedia Brittanica volumes with illegible margin notes handwritten by Borges, Gauloises cigarette smoke, the moon which requires a zoom lens most of us don't have, these parentheses, lions that refuse to look straight out from their cages, statues of heroes with long-forgotten names, clouds that coincidentally or not look like space ships, you, the door of this house with the broken doorbell, the innards of a piano, motorbikes with sidecars, a pile of matches, the still hand of a cuckoo clock, a knife and apple peel, all these and other things we call love, memory, imagination) still continues to approach its end.

I post this from Alex Epstein for several reasons. One, it made me laugh. Two, publishing on FB is a little like publishing on Blip, and I love the idea. Three, I disagree. Taking pictures of these everyday things is not something we do because we wish to forget that they are approaching their end. I think we take these pictures because we know these things are approaching their end, and we celebrate them on the way. Or as Marc Chagall said, we cause their holy sparks to re-ascend by appreciating them. (Can't find the link to that, but trust me, he said something like that.)

And so: the sink full of dishes. Beautiful in my eyes. Impermanent. Celebrated.

Today there is another meeting of the Elder Caucus of Occupy, in which there is going to be heated and intense discussion of whether we should tell others how to be non-violent or not. I am not going. I can't bear any more of this discussion. Instead, I'm going to a park with S&C and the baby. Her infancy is also transitory. Approaching its end. I will be with THAT today.