Having declared belief in and God's presence in current human affairs and (however obliquely) human consciousness, I think it is incumbent (in times like these, times of varying styles-of-doubt) to attempt to write what I personally mean by the word God.' I'm no theologian, obviously, nor even an acceptable cracker-barrel philosopher. I theorize-and almost entirely in the field of aesthetics. Primarily I write to exhaust language on given subject, to drive the mind beyond words, so that I can begin, and begin again and again where words-leave-off, veer their references into vision, each verbal connective synapse, to effect that my mind's eye have full sway so that I can commence my work: I am filmmaker. I have found, across years of photography and editing, that the verbal can open into the visual, like swing gate in the mind, or sprung door, revealing plethoras of inexplicable and often utterly unexpected visitations. It is my only excuse for titling my films-that words can announce Light's-life, as it were, and prompt chaotic display of illumination into Vision...and at the same time can tutor chaos into rhythmic mimic of cathectic thought. The twin aspects of seeing-(1) sheer reception of the entire fiery illumination of the world, its bounce-light, and (2) cathexis-of-such into visual thinking-can be guided (in imitation of language, perhaps) to co-exist at once and one, like the yes/no or then/now of unconscious process. It is as if that which sparks the meat-tongue and heaves the diaphragm into such shaping of air as we call speech can also cathect, haunt, invest light waves, sparkled optics, and the electricity of thought into memorable coherency without any loss of one's sense of chaos (i.e., chaos: a state of things in which chance is supreme, as Webster's has it). Oh God! Dear God, and the like, as pleas uttered in desperate nervous extremity, are the signifiers of illumination and envisionment at one, except inasmuch as the words stand shackled to wish. The aesthetic of such prayer might best be expressed Oh/God, OGod, so forth. How can God be defined in our language except as some ultimate compound Good. Perhaps it should be compacted to Gd;' that it be grunt of the flute-throat trapped in the mouth of the sayer rather than social expression... (for as saying, this word may be uttered easily immediately after, say, the act of slaying helpless creature to no purpose; but as term thrust to the arched roof of the mouth and curled upon the tongue, one would suppose it must adhere, in the mind, to benevolent kinship and Grace in the eventuality of thought). But as God can be experienced as ecstasis passionately, then one must factor all pain plentifully into any equation. The fevers of being Human, The Wrath of God as experience of life-on-Earth, invigorate any notion of deity with such trembling of the vocal cords and quake of mind as can be heard in barest whisper and felt as slightest thought. Yet this, too, must come to be known as goodness-even if against all body's sensibility of well-being. How to picture such?...except, say, classically, as stasis such as The Sphinx, or baroquely, as does Bach (with bass quaver at-one with theme engendering seemingly infinite variations) or romantically, as A solid moving through an inferno (as poet Michael McClure has it). None of these traditional formulas achieve moving at-oneness. None permit both visible-chaos and envisioned-meaning coexistence (though each, at best, can be sensed as attempts at such resolve). Fear, as an inward-looking condemnation of history's tradition-- ridden forms, aborts outlook, creates props (defence) such as, for prime example, matter. If the external be subject to one's self, and if self be, thus, possessed by oneself, then all explative becomes such muttering as an echo-chamber might be said to engender: the visual corollary to this word-trap would be mirror-reflecting-mirror's imagery to some supposed infinitesimal microcosm. …
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