More From The Way to the Spring: Near Ramallah

Qalandia Checkpoint, Ramallah, West Bank (The Way to the Spring, p. 251)

  • Technically, Qalandia fell within the municipal boundaries of Jerusalem, but when the wall was built, it became a border crossing between Israel and the West Bank. It developed its own ecosystem, as borders do. You could buy cigarettes without leaving your car, or Spongebob bedspreads, or plastic jugs of purple pickled eggplant. Men sold coffee and kebabs from carts. Women sold produce or stood begging with their infants in their arms.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

The “I” Is Reborn in an Encounter

When self was with her niece in Florence last November, she stumbled across a conference commemorating the 10th death anniversary of an Italian priest named Monsignor Luigi Giussani.

She had a very nice conversation with one of the organizers, who ended up giving her a pamphlet with excerpts from Giussani’s writings. And self has been carrying it with her ever since. She reads it on airplanes, on trains, on buses, everywhere.

Self has quoted him on this blog before:

LIVE           REALITY           INTENSELY

Here’s another:

WITH EVERY MORNING, JOY REAWAKENS WITHIN ME.

Here’s self’s quote for the day:

Picture yourself being born, coming out of your mother’s womb at the age you are now at this very moment in terms of your development and consciousness. What would be the first, absolutely your initial reaction? If I were to open my eyes for the first time in this instant, emerging from my mother’s womb, I would be overpowered by the wonder and awe of things as a “presence.” I would be bowled over and amazed by the stupefying repercussion of a presence which is expressed in current language by the word “thing,”

Things! That’s “something!” “Thing,” which is a concrete and, if you please, banal version of the word “being.” Being: not as some abstract entity, but as a presence, a presence which I do not myself make, which I find. A presence which imposes itself upon me. At this moment, I am attentive . . .


Is that not, somehow, so philosophical and fascinating?

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

THE WAY TO THE SPRING: Sentences

I stayed bundled up indoors and dragged the space heater with me from room to room like a silent, glowing dog. (p. 239)


Scratch any surface in the West Bank and you’ll find prison lurking just below. “Those who enter jail in our country become like a shuttle in a weavers hand, forever coming in and going out.” (Emile Habiby, quoted on p. 240)

 

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