Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Amo, Ergo Sum

It lay on a mnemonic shelf, gathering the dust of pained experience, whose unwholesome radiance had already started to corrode the edges of the symbols. As I held the phrase within my hands - cautiously, lest the letters lost cohesion and fell onto the ground - I pondered if these words held power still. I swept the sooty grime off their bare scalps and regarded the fleshy meaning beneath:

"Amo, Ergo Sum," my olden, aged motto. "I love, therefore I am." Unconditional love. One that once given, is ours no longer, but something that is simply part of us. The uncanny flame that e'en boundless sea cannot quench. A love that is quietly crazy, tenderly mad, whose solemn stare slips out of straight-jackets and squeezes past the doors of perception, while the body stays bound...

...until passion seizes this coil and tears the ties, splinters the gates in a blind frenzy. The blunt fire that burns all or burns out, its very own funeral pyre. The love that's never released from Pandora's box, lest it destroy us, lest we lose hold of its wild reins, lest it be ours no longer. The erotic love of the "Odi et Amo, Ergo Sum," the Taoist half-brother of the Buddhist "Amo, Ergo Sum," son of hatred as well as love. The bittersweet Eros of Anne Carson.


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