Papa Gede

*

I think there are two languages, one internal, which is instantaneous and privately understood. It does not consist of conclusions, but instead is a continuous response of who we are to ourselves; and when examined and then annunciated is our verbal soul. This, I think, is the spring of lyric poetry.

But there is another language- that which is made to circulate among us. This is the language of communication. It does not belong to us like the former, but can be claimed as our own. It is a language of progression where common meaning is created. It is through this language we exchange ideas, thus creating an objective field.

I believe a story is a combination of these two voices, one which is an instantaneous and personal truth, the other which is a compounding set of ideas given birth only to be tested by its effectiveness to communicate- a story then, is the unique combination of these, one soul displayed with another which is shared- a story then can be a point of contact and thus an art of perpetual compromise- in fact, is a described geography of these contacts, a history of dilemmas and conflicts.

I saw a picture of Papa Gede yesterday; he is a voodoo spirit. In the picture I saw, he was wearing sunglasses, as he sometimes does. But his sunglasses always have one lens removed. And that is because he can see into both worlds- the world of the living and the world of the dead. I think I am going to wear his sunglasses from now on when I write. I have put them on, and am wearing them now, with one lens removed- this will remind me of the difference between how one sees, and how others understand the rendering of that vision, like the two languages, the rapid and then the necessarily methodical- the living, and that which is made alive through our participation.

+ I should add, this rests on one important and necessary assumtion: that life by itself has a gravity- that life attracts life.

-- el aventurero

*picture of dambala (the gate keeper)