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There are different kinds of foolishness.

One is to miss how each occasion is completely charged.  It is a foolishness that thinks and feels living moments are mundane, boring, ordinary . . . and, so, alienating.  It is a sad and resigned foolishness. 

Another variety of foolishness sees that human beings have no other choice but to be foolish, so we may as well revel in it, our limitations boldly announced, a crooked fuck finger to the world.

A third way is offered through this line fragment of Baudelaire’s – to “move with agility through boundless space.” Perhaps this is not a matter merely of disembodied flights of thought and imagination. Rather, we do so fully embodied in flesh and blood and ink and paint and passion and pain. Then what seem to be disparate elements – and visions – may coalesce into the boundlessness of creativity, through hands finding ways to help one another. This is silence speaking, all that is interdependent finding itself expressed in you, as you, through you. You expressing ‘it’ as you are able, fully through your very insufficiency – as does each insufficient other, not other.

And so we truly meet.

How foolish! How marvelous!

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