picnicking with the varners and vaclav?

The beauty of language is that it can never capture precisely what it wants. Language is disconnected, hard, digital as it were, and for that reason , but not only for that reason, it can never completely capture something as connected as reality, experience, or our souls. This opens the door to the magnificient battle for expression and self-expression that has accompanied man down through history. It is a battle without end, and thanks o it, everything that is human is continually being elucidated, each time somewhat differently. Moreover, t is in this battle that man in fact becomes himself. As an individual, as a species. He simply tries to capture the world and humself more and more exactly through words, images, or actinos, and the more he succeeds, the more aware he is that he can never completely capture either the world or himself, nor any part of the world. But that drives him to keep trying, again and again, and thus he continues to define himself more and more exactly. It’s a sysphaen fate. But it can’t be helped: man will carry the complete truth about himself to the grave, though someone, in the end, will know that truth ater all: if no the Lord God, then at least the great memory of being.



Pics--melissa and her mighty muscles--elliot, the cutest kid east of the drive--neil and me, amanda and me...collectively the varner family

peace
C