Does being--mortally--live?
No?
Perhaps the only living part of us is soulful, and even if it is
destined to find a new oblivion, the part of it that wonders
and loves and feels sorrow, and asks others to know of
these things within itself, that part leaves traces on others,
and continues, somehow, to live. Even after the body has
been dissembled.
It seems almost too easy to conclude that the part of us that
is mortal is the part that does not live. Although evidence
suggests otherwise.
Only in terms of absolutes, we might say that the part of us
that paid the price is the part of us that is dead. And that's
the desperate, free-wheeling part of us that asks to be
intimate, even when it is revealed in its nakedness.
Certainly there are ways in which motion and sound and pain
are life. When we concentrate on the word life we cannot
sometimes seperate ourselves from these things. But being
and life are one, so to say that life is "mortally" is to say that
the world is the whole of our being. But what is the world
without our eyes? And didn't we know something to be so
precisely who we are? What slips in this place? Does that
mean "mortally" or is there something inexorable and sure
about these motions in space?