25 September 2007. Filtered sunlight, early fall. Dusky yellow Ford pickup across the way, nosed in to 7-eleven wall. Working day. Voices of strikers on radio this morning: north side of Kansas City. Resolve and bewilderment. As in Lev Shestov--Athens or Jerusalem--more the resolve. His vision of the Garden of Eden--an eternal ecstatic existence--bounty of faith, perhaps, not yet brought down to the realm of distinguo--those grudging oppositions, true or false, good and evil, locked into the realm of "nature"--and every impossible false choice. Instead, to love the trees. Indeed, to speak with them...
Simone Weil: L’attention absolument sans mélange est prière...
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