#Rene Daumal

[nonhapiupareti]

René Daumal, portrait by Joseph Sima "L'énigme de la face", Galerie J. Povolozki 22 Nov 13 Déc 1930, 13 rue Bonaparte, Paris

René Daumal, Roger Gilbert-Lecomte, Roger Vailland et Robert Meyrat : Le Grand Jeu

http://www.barapoemes.net/archives/2019/07/05/37478923. html

https://www.en-attendant-nadeau. fr/2021/12/28/ascensions-initiatiques-daumal/

#daumal #rene daumal #le grand jeu #sima #joseph sima #Paris #1930 #face #nose #physiognomy #features

[crosstheveil]

You cannot always stay on the summit. You have to come down again…

So what’s the point? Only this: what is above knows what is below, what is below does not know what is above. While climbing, take note of all the difficulties along your path. During the descent, you will no longer see them, but you will know that they are there if you have observed carefully.

There is an art to finding your way in the lower regions by the memory of what you have seen when you were higher up. When you can no longer see, you can at least still know…

— René Daumal

#rene daumal #quote

[soul-and-blues]

Je suis mort parce que je n’ai pas le désir, Je n’ai pas le désir parce que je crois posséder, Je crois posséder parce que je n’essaye pas de donner ; Essayant de donner, on voit qu’on n’a rien, Voyant qu’on n’a rien, on essaye de se donner, Essayant de se donner, on voit qu’on n’est rien, Voyant qu’on est rien, on désire devenir, Désirant devenir, on vit. René Daumal

#rene daumal

[surrealistnyc]

Écrits de la bête noire consists of three texts by a disillusioned René Daumal published in the short-lived journal La Bête noire (1935-1936) and unavailable since.

#Rene Daumal

[talonabraxas]

And what defines the scale of the ultimate symbolic mountain—the one I propose to call Mount Analogue—is its inaccessi­bility to ordinary human approaches. For a mountain to play the role … its summit must be inaccessible but its base accessible to human beings as nature has made them. It must be unique and it must exist geographically. The door to the invisible must be visible. René Daumal, Mount Analogue https://www.theculturium.com/rene-daumal-mount-analogue/?fbclid=IwAR1fgh6Dwn6CxYnxhpENXeFsBG6iWzx3EOnX6OIT4vEeV0VrIP-PBcMteb4

[theartistisreading]

Pete Schulte is reading:

Alice Notley: In the Pines

Anne Truitt: Yield, Daybook, Prospect, Turn

Anne Carson: Autobiography of Red

Ben Estes: ABC Moonlight

Ben Lerner: 10;04; Leaving the Atocha Station; The Topeka School; Angle of Yaw, The Hatred of Poetry

Cole Swensen: The Glass Age

David Markson: The Last Novel; Vanishing Point; This is Not a Novel; Reader’s Block, Wittgenstein’s Mistress

Jack Whitten: Notes from The Woodshed

James Galvin: As Is; The Meadow

John O’Donahue: Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

Kiki Petrosino: Fort Red Border; The Dark is Here

Félix Fénéon: Novels in Three Lines, trans. Luc(y) Sante

Maggie Nelson: The Bluets

Nasreen Mohamedi: Waiting is Part of Intense Living

Matisse: The Red Studio: Anne Temkin, Dorthe Aegesen

Meister Eckhart: Selected Writings

Ocean Vuong: Time Is a Mother; Night Sky with Exit Wounds

Organic Music Societies (Don and Moki Cherry) ed. Lawrence Kumpf with Naima Karlsson and Magnus Nygren

Rachel Kushner: The Flamethrowers, Telex from Cuba; The Mars Room; The Mayor of Leipzig

Rene Daumal: Mount Analogue

Robert Bresson: Notes on The Cinematographer

Robert Hass: Time and Materials

Rudolf Wurlitzer: The Drop Edge of Yonder

Steven Parrino: The No Texts. (1979-2003)

Tantra Song: Franck André Jamme, Michael Tweed, et al.

The Autobiography of Hans-Joachim Roedelius

The Essential Haiku: Versions of Basho, Buson, & Issa Ed. Robert Hass

The Bhagavad Gita

The Dhammapada

The Upanishads

Tich Nhat Hahn: The Miracle of Mindfulness

[the-doors-of-perception]

yukarıdaki aşağıdakini bilir, ama aşağıdaki yukarıdakini bilemez. tırmanırken, yol boyunca karşılaştığın bütün zorlukları not et. iniş sırasında bunlarla tekrar karşılaşmayacaksın ama iyi gözlemlediysen onların orada olduğunu bileceksin. yukarıda gördüklerinin bilgisiyle, aşağı bölgelerde yolunu bulmanın bir sanatı vardır. artık göremediğin zaman, en azından hala biliyor olacaksın. -Rene Daumal

[sub--limation]

RENE DAUMAL (1908~1944)

La peau du fantôme

Je traîne mon espoir avec mon sac de clous, je traîne mon espoir étranglé à tes pieds, toi qui n'es pas encore, et moi qui ne suis plus.

Je traîne un sac de clous sur la grève de feu

en chantant tous les noms que je te donnerai

et ceux que je n'ai plus.

Dans la baraque, elle pourrit, la loque

où ma vie palpitait jadis ;

toutes les planches furent clouées,

il est pourri sur sa paillasse

avec ses yeux qui ne pouvaient te voir,

ses oreilles sourdes à ta voix,

sa peau trop lourde pour te sentir

quand tu le frôlais,

quand tu passais en vent de maladie.

Et maintenant j'ai dépouillé la pourriture, et tout blanc je viens en toi, ma peau nouvelle de fantôme frissonne déjà dans ton air.

[wolf-floww]

“You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know.”

Rene Daumal

[sother]

surrounded by rene daumal, a jar with water for my brushes, manicure set, nail polish and face masks, a half done painting, branches growing out of a pot, needs yellowish flowers done; glasses, headphones and snoring mother in the other room. i dont know where my kitten is but im going to get him. hes not a kitten anymore. 

[nobrashfestivity]

“it is very tempting, when you talk about the events of the past, to impose clarity and order upon what had neither one nor the other.” ― René Daumal, A Night of Serious Drinking

#rene daumal

[shihlun]

“The spirit of an individual reaches its own absolute through incessant negation.”   (René Daumal)

Toshio Matsumoto

- Funeral Parade of Roses

1969

#toshio matsumoto #funeral parade of roses #松本俊夫 #薔薇の葬列 #rené daumal #Rene Daumal #japanese film #1969

[raisongardee]

“Si le langage n’exprime avec précision qu’une intensité moyenne de la pensée, c’est parce que la moyenne de l’humanité pense avec ce degré d’intensité ; c’est à cette intensité qu’elle consent, c’est de ce degré de précision qu’elle convient […] 

Mais ce n’est pas encore assez que le langage ait clarté et contenu, comme si je dis "ce jour-là, il pleuvait", ou "trois et deux font cinq" ; il faut encore qu’il ait un but et une nécessité. Autrement, de langage on tombe en parlage, de parlage en bavardage, de bavardage en confusion. Dans cette confusion des langues, les hommes, même s’ils ont des expériences communes, n’ont pas de langue pour en échanger les fruits. 

Puis, quand cette confusion devient intolérable, on invente des langues universelles, claires et vides, où les mots ne sont qu’une fausse monnaie que ne gage plus l’or d’une expérience réelle ; langues grâce auxquelles, depuis l’enfance, nous nous gonflons de faux savoirs.”

René Daumal, La Grande Beuverie, 1938.

#rene daumal #langage

[carpentrix]

One need not summit to see. To know what is above, one need only lie on the grass and look up, float on one’s back on a pond and look up, tilt the chin toward the sky and look up. Any moment, a mountaintop. What do I know? Only that for a moment I became the sky and touched everything at once. Only that this possibility exists. The possibility to reach a state of all-nothingness again. That somewhere way beyond the summit, sky, time, death — these things are the same.

A series of essays on the sky for the Paris Review Daily concludes with this, on fear at the base of heartbreak and grief, voids and mountaintops, and the ways we aim our devotion.

What shape is the sky?

[Painting: Frederic Edwin Church, Niagara, 1857.]

#sky gazing #paris review #Rene daumal #sky #What shape is the sky

[warpwoof]

René Daumal

You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know.

#daumal #rene daumal #mount analogue #peaks

[citamutiara]

When the lock-down in Malaysia was first announced, I was basking in the sun with the wave sound in Bali. It hit me with the revelation that I could not enter Malaysia, my home for these past 10 years. Long story short, I ended up staying in Jakarta with my family.

Imbued with the sadness of parting with my boyfriend, I overcompensated the feeling with throwing myself back to work- from home, signing up to numerous free online classes, committing to several workout from home sessions and all. None of them were able to soothe my restlessness. Figured, one needs to be wooed by words and showered with imageries running through my head with every word, every sentence.

Without wasting more time, I indulged in Mount Analogue by René Daumal. It documents his allegorical tale of an expedition to a mountain whose existence can only be deduced, not observed. Weirdly captivating but it ends abruptly as the author died mid-sentence. Did he make it to the top? Nobody knows.

One day after the mellow-ness dissipated, I picked up a short story by Kristen Roupenian, Cat People. Don’t be fooled, it has nothing to do with cat or any felines whatsoever. It centers on the relationship between 20 years old Margot and 34 years old Robert. Margot who fell into Robert but not exactly real Robert. How’s Robert not real? Robert was a construct, he was built inside Margot’s head with statement supplied by Robert (which we have no way of knowing whether those statements are true or not) and cooked with romanticism. When things didn’t turn out as expected, Margot dropped him and ended up with him calling her with a classic, whore. After that I deleted it and ate my dinner. Do I dislike it? No. Do I like it? No.

After watching the news with mum on TV, brushed my teeth, and had few hours to spare before sleeping. So I picked up The Nose by Gogol. I know picking it up before sleeping might induce a nightmare. But ok I am probably a masochist so let me torture myself with a nightmare that would scare me for a lifetime so bring it on. The story follows an unfortunate tale of a status-climber, Major Kovalyov, whose nose went missing, gained its own consciousness, tried to escape and run away to Riga. Epic tale.

My restlessness is not entirely gone but at least it’s well-managed now.

Stay safe, stay home and spread love not virus.

#book review #bookclub #bookworm #bibliophile #reading #bookish #bookstagram #goodreads #rene daumal #gogol #cat people #kristen roupenian #the newyorker