A fold of order in chaos. A pocket – temporary and fleeting – in the formless void. That's what he dreams thought to be, says W. Thought, the pocket thought forms, should itself be temporary, fleeing, and open to change. Thought should ride along chaos, not resisting it, not holding itself back, but riding with it, belonging to it as water does to water. And when it is finished – a thought, a life of thought – it should be turned back inside out like a glove, and it will have been shown to have only been made of the material of the day, which in our case is the disaster.
A thought of the disaster that was itself as disaster: will that be our contribution? Is our catastrophe only an enfolding of the catastrophe of the world?
Lars Iyer's Blog 