Yes, we have been fortunate to meet real thinkers, W. and I agree. It was our great good fortune – but wasn't it also our curse; didn't we have confirmed for us that of which we would not be able – that of which we above all would not be able? It's important to know one's limitations – on that we're agreed – but to have them reconfirmed so often; to have the sense of them closing around you like a cage?
We're being suffocated, we agree. How can we breathe? But an encounter with a real thinker is precisely that breath. How is possible, the sense that, with a thinker, a thought is shared between us? How is possible that we believe ourselves to participate in thinking? Thought seems to occur between us. It seems to flow there, are though we were gathered around a mountain stream, around thought in its freshness, eternally streaming.
Ah to be near the source, at the beginning point! To have reached the highest, widest plateaus with only the flashing stars above us! That that's where these thinkers bring us; that's the vista their thought provides. Yes, we have seen the heights; thoughts, pure and fresh, have passed beside us.
Were we the condition of thought? We were only its occasion, alas. Someone spoke to us. We looked interested; someone spoke, we listened - that was it. And thinking welled up around like a great flood, and there were fishes in that flood, fish-thoughts streaming by us.
That was it, and nothing more. And with what were we left when the flood subsided? Where we were beached but on the valley-bottom of our stupidity, on the parched sands that no thought might cross?
Lars Iyer's Blog 