On Service
Essay 25
I had dinner with a man, cried into my plate, his candles felt quite stagey, and said I had to leave, had something to do. There are causes personal and public, and which one is calling stays unmistakable. So I crossed the Channel and went quiet, closed the door, got down to work here, in rooms filled with sunshine that is natural. To be seen one only needs to stand up and wait.
I like the process of splitting oneself into a platform, to weave in all the voices, to be awash. To be selfless until sundown, a sort of Ruth. To care and to arrange all, to organise for what’s best, the phalanxes of friendship, co-create duets. And in all this time I’ve never searched for any space, or any shade, or any sound from someone else in private.
I see the world as shapes in information, the symphonies, the quartets to stretch it in, with the size changing its scope and its attributes, its speed and its effect. The soloist is 1s and 0s just the same, and trades off his protons with the universe.
I’m not sure why I’ve started to write here again off-site, I’ve found a patch to step on that feels all mine, to converse, 1:1, with people who never left or have just arrived, and I like the light and it feels very natural.
Hi Anna, I found your blog (well, is it a blog?) just browsing last week and I found it very interesting.
I love the way you throw some topics on the table and, in a certain sense, you're going to "serve" this topic to us, as a sort of "dish of the day".
I hope you won't dislike my cuisine-based metaphor: once someone said "If you don't put love as ingredient in your recipe, you're just preparing some food." But preparing food (for body, but also for soul) for someone else is maybe one of the most definitive love gestures.
Thanks!
‘…to weave in all the voices…’ Super