By Brian George
“There was Earth inside them, and they dug”—Paul Celan
You wrote, “The main point I made was that I could not reconcile the call for transparency with an article I could not comprehend. It was not the context—I am familiar with many of the other thinkers you cite—but the meaning.”
There has perhaps been some misunderstanding about this concept of “transparency.” As you say, in the form that I present it, the meaning of this concept would seem to be anything but self-evident. In this, it is similar to the space inside an atom, which physicists now tell us is 99 percent empty. How strange, then, that the one percent that we do see is so good at blocking our view. The world is an act of archaic conjuration—a bird up the sleeve, a box to be sawed in half—and yet, to us, it is the emptiness that seems unreal.
The transparency that I am talking about is not the transparency of a government bureaucracy, but rather the transparency that will allow us to see from one dimension to another—from center to circumference, and then back again to center. It is the transparency of the self as a kind of grounded electrical outlet, which is located only as a matter of convenience on the Earth. It is the transparency to be found on the back side of the mirror, through which we have learned to slip. There, at last, we will have learned to ask better questions, and, though information would still operate on a “need to know” basis, there would, in fact, be very little that we do not need to know. It is the transparency that will empower us reenter our “junk DNA,” whose stairways we will climb, and whose hieroglyphs we will once more learn to read. We must make up for many years of inattention.
Have I fully achieved this type of transformation in myself? No, not at all, but I have had any number of experiences that suggest what the implications of this mode of transparency would be. The goal is to make the human Body/Mind the equivalent of space—not physical space, but rather the space of the “Akasha”—the non-existent fullness from which opaque worlds erupt, and in relation to which all forms are not other than hallucinations.
In my poetry, I often choose to personify this “concept” of “Akasha” as a goddess—as an infinite library with the capacity to act. Within her body, time moves in a series of interlocking formats, both forwards and backwards, nor is one location separate from another. To illustrate: a reference to the destruction of the World Trade Towers appears in a poem called “Descent,” which I wrote in 1992. The relevant section reads, “The World Trade Towers for a fourth time fall. Their shadows stand. The holder of “hegal” has launched the 53rd Kirugu. The master of the Abzu, Enki, sails towards Gaia in his magur boat. There were wheels inside of wheels. Today it came. Each saw the event that long ago they spoke of. Industrial strength sacrifices flash and then repeat before the large eyes of the watchers at the circumference of the Zodiac.”
(Illustration: The inside of an egg, 2002)