In the Forest of the Nearsighted Philologist


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Skraperutjern, a small lake in Østmarka, Oslo
: photo by Chell Hill, 2009



The problems arising through a misinterpretation of our forms of language have the character of depth. They are deep disquietudes; their roots are as deep in us as the forms of our language and their significance is as great as the importance of our language. ------Let us ask ourselves: why do we feel a grammatical joke to be deep? (And that is what the depth of philosophy is.)

-- Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations


Please don't let me be misunderstood. Unless, that is, you too are misunderstood. If you misunderstand my misunderstanding, and if I misunderstand your misunderstanding, might it then mean we understand each other?

Perhaps our mutual misunderstandings will cancel each other out.

Give me the clear mind, give me the correct words, so that I may understand your intentions. So that I may understand mine. So that -- no. The bookshelf never did have intentions. One can neither understand nor misunderstand a bookshelf.

Can it be said that a soul whose intentions are unclear to itself is a soul whose intentions are no better than they ought to be? And could it be true that the back road taken by the peace that passeth understanding leads to a place buried so deep in the forest one may say that to all intents and purposes it no longer exists?

Gauzy, out of focus, snow covering the screen of words, snow falling in the confounding forest.



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Snowstorm, southern Winchester County, New York: photo by Cyclonebiskit, 2008