Heidegger wrote a treatise on it; Soren K. believed the poet needed it to write; Sartre found the absurdity in being tormented by being tormented; Camus' men lived it while fighting themselves or replicas of themselves; and I, well, I look to them again and now to learn to understand what the great Hesse meant in Demian. I lie. I look to them to understand what I mean to myself if so many aspects of me are controlled by despair. Angst is an overabundance of hope, no? How else do we explain the angst filled person not jumping off the bridge or jumping in front of a bus?
To be continued...filled with too much angst right now!
Oye, musing without textonomies.
A Certain Tip
About Me
- Luna & Gaelle
- New York, New York, United States
- Wine turns me over, but a text makes love.
Musing:
Poetry is words making love to each other.
2 comments:
angst is when reason meets depth. not to be scolded. a sign of brilliance. doses of hope hit the reality of the real. the occidentals, as you suggested, could not reconcile it. perhaps this is what "eastern" transformation is all about. letting angst just be. just be. just be. because it is. we are....
Thank you for this wonderful comment. So profound and simple: just be! I am remembering this all over again today. Thanks!
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