#geworfenheit

[lavideenrose]

I stick my finger in existence — it smells of nothing. Where am I? Who am I? How came I here? What is this thing called the world? What does this world mean? Who is it that has lured me into the world? Why was I not consulted, why not made acquainted with its manners and customs instead of throwing me into the ranks, as if I had been bought by a kidnapper, a dealer in souls? How did I obtain an interest in this big enterprise they call reality? Why should I have an interest in it? Is it not a voluntary concern? And if I am to be compelled to take part in it, where is the director? I should like to make a remark to him. Is there no director? Whither shall I turn with my complaint?

From Repetition by Søren Kierkegaard

[funeral]

To [some of the existentialist writers] man is a being who, in all his cognitive acts and efforts, can never reach a real world. His world is but a design, projected by himself, and mirroring the structure of his being. Just as the kaleidoscopic observation depends on how the little pieces of glass have been thrown, this kaleidoscopic epistemology presents a ‘world design’ (Weltentwurf) wholly dependent upon man’s ‘thrown-ness’ (Geworfenheit) a simple reflection of his subjective condition and structure.

Viktor E. Frankl, The Feeling of Meaninglessness: A Challenge to Psychotherapy and Philosophy

[luxe-pauvre]

A pair of images that help clarify things here are those of the kayak and the superyacht. To be human, according to this analogy, is to occupy a little one-person kayak, borne along on the river of time towards your inevitable yet unpredictable death. It’s a thrilling situation, but also an intensely vulnerable one: you’re at the mercy of the current, and all you can really do is to stay alert, steering as best you can, reacting as wisely and gracefully as possible to whatever arises from moment to moment. The German philosopher Martin Heidegger described this state of affairs using the word Geworfenheit, or ‘thrownness’, a suitably awkward word for an awkward predicament: merely to come into existence is to find oneself thrown into a time and place you didn’t choose, with a personality you didn’t pick, and with your time flowing away beneath you, minute by minute, whether you like it or not. That’s how life is. But it isn’t how we want it to be. We’d prefer a much greater sense of control. Rather than paddling by kayak, we’d like to feel ourselves the captain of a superyacht, calm and in charge, programming our desired route into the ship’s computers, then sitting back and watching it all unfold from the plush-leather swivel chair on the serene and silent bridge. Systems and schemes for self-improvement, and ‘long-term projects’, all feed this fantasy: you get to spend your time daydreaming that you’re on the superyacht, master of all you survey, and imagining how great it’ll feel to reach your destination. By contrast, actually doing one meaningful thing today – just sitting down to meditate, just writing a few paragraphs of the novel, just giving your full attention to one exchange with your child – requires surrendering a sense of control. It means not knowing in advance if you’ll carry it off well (you can be certain you’ll do it imperfectly), or whether you’ll end up becoming the kind of person who does that sort of thing all the time. And so it is an act of faith. It means facing the truth that you’re always in the kayak, never the superyacht.

Oliver Burkeman, Kayaks and superyachts

[dreamingkitsunewrites]

Letter to somebody I left behind,

It's been more than a year…a year since you entered my life…and now that I've ripped myself away from you I'm slowly coming back to my old self… 

But I remember the hailstorm and us talking under the shelter of a balcony, the smell of your smoke on my skin, the intricate patterns of your tattoos

 I still remember Escher, Goya and the starless sky, the way we both hoped the rain wouldn't ever end…

 I remember the late night calls, when you couldn't even breathe on the other side of the line,but we still talked about the ultimate essence of happiness and Geworfenheit;

I know everything about you and I wish I didn't let you so close to me: I was never there, but in my mind I held your inner child out of the wreckage of your household…I never met Jo, but I feel like I was there beside you when you tried to bring him around in that car…I wasn't there with you that night, but I took all of your pain on my shoulders…

 I still remember the fights, the way you used to yell at me I was nothing without you… just to text me to know if I came home safe when I turned my back to you…

 I remember Budapest, your sore knuckles when life became too much, the way you finally fell asleep to the tale of my routine…

Even if I don't want to, I will always know the words of the songs you wrote to me, and I will always keep the notes you wrote in the books we exchanged.

I've tried… God knows I've tried…I've tried loving you even when u shattered me to pieces…not once but twice. And still then, I loved you from afar, without anyone else noticing. 

Sacrificing myself and my dreams on a far away horizon, I decided not to leave. Not yet -I said to myself. People asked me why I decided not to leave all of a sudden…and I wanted to play it down, blaming my lack of bravery, while the only reason was you…

But all you wanted was keeping me close just to see me shatter again…just for you to put me together and tear me to pieces over and over again… 

I gave you my time, my thoughts, my energy, my prayers… every fiber of my being begged for your Salvation as I held my own breath at night.

Yet, the cruel game you played with me was not enough: you kept on damaging yourself on purpose just because you knew it was the simplest way to get under my skin, to make sure in the end I would come back to you begging for more. 

Until one day I found the bravery to let go.

I want to leave you behind but I won't ever let you go completely, because deep,down I know I failed… I'll always be reminded how I couldn't get you out of your misery… I couldn't win over the Demons in your mind… 

You told me I reminded you of your mother…and I want nothing more than being someone else…

Good luck on your next turn, I wish someone will finally be able to stitch what the others had ripped apart…

Sorry if I moved on,

           Yours, the one who got away.

What a strange thing life is... Barely nights ago I was writing this letter in my drafts after getting a 3am text by a person I never thought I would hear from again...I layed awake feeling miserable, not wanting to feel a thing... and yet, today I grab lunch with friends I haven't seen in a while and I fall for the idea of falling in love again... The news of young (maybe too young) wedding after an almost breakup, and a new start after grieving the one you loved hit me like a train...it all happened in matter if minutes... And then I understood: Love knows a lot of hiding places...but when the time is right it will always find its way back to you...and I'm willing to wait, no matter how much long it will take...

Needed to get this off my chest so bad...

[weirdchristmas]

This is what Heidegger calls Geworfenheit.

[ob-directory]

모더니즘의 질문은 무대에 ‘던져짐’으로써 하이데거가 “세상에 내던져져 있음(Geworfenheit)”이라고 표현한 생경함을 일깨운다. 로메오 카스텔루치가 연출한 공연 작품 「지옥」(2008)에서 둔탁한 공기의 파장을 일으키며 무대 바닥으로 가차 없이 내동댕이쳐지는 텔레비전 모니터들처럼, 무대에 ‘던져진’ 모더니즘의 화두들은 현실에서 공명한다. 지금, 이 순간.

서현석·김성희, 『미래 예술』

[korrektheiten]

☕️ Die Zugfahrt des Lebens🟥 Ein Ausschnitt aus Folge 9 des Formats. Was ist "Geworfenheit", "Kreatürlichkeit" und wieso...

M.S.: »☕️ Die Zugfahrt des Lebens 🟥 Ein Ausschnitt aus Folge 9 des Formats. Was ist "Geworfenheit", "Kreatürlichkeit" und wieso kann man das Leben mit einer Zugfahrt vergleichen? 📽 Auszug in HD ✅ Das gesamte Video (1h44) und eine Audioversion gibt hier für MSLive+ Mitglieder: MITGLIED WERDEN http://dlvr.it/SxZbMn « @MSLive_aut

[enyafans4communism]

a strong mood of geworfenheit dominates this fine saturday evening. kind of love that all life depends on fear for its continuing.

[perception-de-ambiguity]

[cedricjacquemyn]

Sculptural copper jackets reference liberty, A statue as a static representation of movement, an endless contradiction. The material will oxidise naturally over time. #cedricjacquemyn #handmade #geworfenheit #copperfabric #madeinbelgium #artisan #antifashion (at Cedric Jacquemyn Atelier Antwerp)

[lavideenrose]

[wallacepolsom]

Wallace Polsom, Geworfenheit (2017), paper collage, 18.2 x 24.1 cm | shop.

[crnklart]

GEWORFENHEIT/“Dawning Of A New Era”

BWAH 0 (2017)

[deadpanwalking]

what books would you recommend to a lost 20 year old (or, what books did you wish you had read at 20?)

I'm actually pretty happy with the shit I read at 20—that was when I got Classical Rhetoric for the Modern Student—which was vitally important to developing my writing and critical thinking—and also the year I went through a really intense phase where I was only fucking with writers from the Decadent and Symbolist movements while really coming into my own as an alcoholic.

A good antidote for the lost feeling (which never fully goes away, in my experience): obtain some Heidegger, particularly anything to do with Dasein and Geworfenheit, then spend some quality time on psychedelics until the concepts rewire your framework in a way that matters.

[epifizz]

İnsanların yaşadığı yer o insanı şekillendirmez mi ? Anadolu çomarı diyoruz hata mı ediyoruz. Yani bunlar çomarsa memleketleri yüzünden net. Kendini geliştirse ne kadar gelişecek çevresi sığ bu sefer.

Heidegger var olma sorununu dünyada olma ve dünyayı inceleme sorunu değil dünyaya atılma (Geworfenheit) sorunu olarak tanımlar. Bu noktada bulunduğun yer, oluşunda karşılaştığın bir durumdur ancak belirleyici olmak zorunda değildir. Heidegger otantik kişiyi bu çerçeveyi oluşturan herkeslikten bağımsız kurmaz ancak onun üzerine, ondan sıyrılmak üzerine kurar. Otantik özne, yaşadığı yerden sıyrılan insandır zaten.

Bu noktada kişiyi yaşadığı yerin kalıp şekilde şekillendirdiğini iddia etmek hatalıdır. Kişiye çevresi etkir ancak onu şekillendiren birçok nokta vardır. Bu seçilmemiş olasılıkları seçme durumu içerisinde kişinin kendini inşa için özgür denebilecek bir alanı vardır.

[dramatik-buluntular]

“Büyük düşler öldürüldüğünde çok kan akar” 

YAŞAM BAŞKA YERDE-Milan Kundera (orjinal adi: zivot je jinde (Cekce) Jiří Wolker(1900-1924)adli Çek şairi pek kimse bilmez.Başlıktaki dize ona ait.Lirik şiirler yazan bu naif şair genç yaşta tuberküloza yakalanıp öldü.Romanda gecen en etkileyici dizelerden biri sadece yerel bir üne sahip bu şairin.Aslında romandaki kahraman Jaromil'e de ait olabilirdi bu dize.Çünkü Arthur Rimbaud'nin da dedigi gibi: ''Bütün şairler kardeştir.Hepsi ayni soydan gelir.Görünmez bir bagla birbirlerine baglanir ve tanirlar gerçek şairleri''. Bahsetmek istedigim kitap,yaşama başka yerden bakan,dizeleriyle yeni bir hayat,yeni bir düş kuran;hayatın anlamını şiirlerinde sözleri ve imgeleriyle sadece sorgulamayan,birfiil yaratan bütün şairlerin,hem kişisel hem ortak oykusu belki de...

Jaromil adlı bir şair karakteri anlatiyor bize Milan Kundera.Bunu ustalıkla yapıyor.Buhranli savas sonrasi bir donemin Cekoslavakyasinda Jaromil farkli yetenekleri olan içine kapanık bir çocuk olarak karşımıza çıkıyor.Resim kabiliyeti de olan bu çocuk şiire yöneliyor.Gençliginde dönemin etkisiyle soyut,imgesel ve romantik siirler yazan Jaromil lisede sosyalizmle tanışıyor. Sosyalist gençlerin mottosu aynı zamanda şairimizin de ruh yapısını yansıtıyor:''Yaşam Başka Yerde''.Sosyalist devrim olunca lirik şiirler yazmaya başlıyor.Hayatındaki en önemli kişi annesi.Annesiyle olan ''aşk''ı bütün yaşamı boyunca peşini bırakmıyor.Ergenliginde ve karşı cinsle ilk tecrübelerinde çocukluk hep peşinden geliyor.Aşkın,devrimin,hayatın mutlak olmamasi bir insanlik trajedisi olarak Jaromil'in bütün yaşam yolculugunun ve şiirlerinin içine siniyor.Onun icin şiir bir hayat.Yaşamı başka yerde aramasını saglayan bir kapı.Istediginde atlayıp kacıp sonra geri gelebilecegi bir pencere...''Gerçek''i hayatında yakalayamayan naif ama aynı zamanda yetkinleşmemiş bir ruhun ete kemige bürünmesi Jaromil...

Düşle gerçek içiçe geçiyor Jaromilde.Birden çok hayatın içinde düşten gerçege oradan tekrar düşlere dalıyor.Ikisi birbirine karışıyor.Adeta imge dolu has bir şiirin bize hayattan daha sahici gelmesi gibi... Jaromilde varoluşunu anlama ve anlamlandırma çabası yazdıgı şiirlerle oluyor.Hep sorguluyor hayatı çünkü ona gore mutlak olmayan bir hayat,ölüme dogru akan bir hayat hep eksik kalacaktır.Bu eksiklik;tamamlanmamışlık hissi veya Heidegger'in  "dunyaya-atilmislik" (geworfenheit) dedigi olgu. "şair dün, yaşam gözyaşları kadar boş, dedi, bugünse yaşam kahkaha kadar keyifli diyor ve her ikisinde de haklı. bugün, her şey sona eriyor ve sessizlikte yitip gidiyor, diyor, yarın, hiçbir şey sona ermiyor ve sonsuza dek yankılanıyor diyecek; ikisi de doğru. şairin hiçbir şeyi kanıtlamaya ihtiyacı yoktur; tek kanıt duygunun yoğunluğunda bulunur. lirizmin dehası, deneyimsizliğin dehasıdır. şair dünyaya dair pek az şey bilir, ama ondan fışkıran sözcükler, kristal kadar kesin olan güzel eklemlenmeler oluşturur, şair olgun bir adam değildir, ama sözleri, karşısında kendisinin de eli kolu bağlı kaldığı bir kehanet havası taşır."

Kundera,döneminin en önemli modern romancılarindan.Müthiş felsefi bir yetkinligin,yalın bir anlatımla romanlaştırıldıgını  görüyoruz.''Yasami baska yerlerde arayanlar''in hikayesini dramatize etmeden hafif ironik ve şiirsel bir dille sunuyor.Adeta has bir şiir okumanın verdigi hazzı alıyoruz kitabın sonunda.Hayatın-ölümün-aşkın-devrimin ''herhangi bir şair''in izinden giderek tüm şairlerin hayatlarını birbirine baglayan bir görünmez ipin izini sürüyoruz.Yani''Şairin Romanı''yla karsi karsiyayiz.Gençlik döneminde Kundera'nin şiirler yazdigini unutmayalım. . Kitapta onemli şairlerle yollar kesişiyor.Lermontov,Mayakovski,Arthur Rimbaud,Perry Bysshe Shelley gibi. "ama ben ben kendi kendime boyun eğdirdim kendi türkümün gırtlağını çiğnedim,"                        Mayakovski

(Kaynak:http://berkeleynotlari.blogspot.com/2011/09/buyuk-dusler-olduruldugunde-cok-kan.html)