<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"><channel><title><![CDATA[Les Cahiers européens de l&#039;imaginaire : Articles]]></title><link>http://www.lescahiers.eu/node.php?pageid=3&amp;pageclef=rss</link><description><![CDATA[Les Cahiers publient en ligne le résumé des articles de la revue, parfois l&#039;article dans sa langue originale et toujours un espace de discussion avec l&#039;auteur. D&#039;autres articles continuent la discussion autour du thème en cours.]]></description><language>fr</language><copyright><![CDATA[]]></copyright><lastBuildDate>Wed, 30 May 2012 13:13:55 +0200</lastBuildDate><pubDate>Wed, 30 May 2012 13:13:55 +0200</pubDate><generator>http://www.cafecentral.fr</generator><item><title><![CDATA[Mathématiques passionnelles]]></title><pubDate>Fri, 13 Jan 2012 17:04:00 +0100</pubDate><link>http://www.lescahiers.eu/articles/mathematiques-passionnelles.html</link><guid>251</guid><author>Laurent  Derobert Mélodie Marcq</author><description><![CDATA[“Il dit que sa science est un squelette et il ne veut pas qu’il ait froid. Alors nous nous donnons rendez-vous”.




























Erratum
Une erreur s'est glissée dans la version imprimée de l'article de Laurent Derobert et Mélodie Marcq, qui a entraîné la disparition des signes diacritiques essentiels à la signification de l'article. Les Cahiers reproduisent en ligne l'intégralité de l'article en espérant corriger cette erreur, dans la mise en page originale de Constance Arizzoli.
]]></description></item><item><title><![CDATA[Moving on (from the Great Eastern Japan Seismic disaster)]]></title><pubDate>Mon, 12 Mar 2012 11:37:00 +0100</pubDate><link>http://www.lescahiers.eu/articles/moving-on-from-the-great-eastern-japan-seismic-disaster.html</link><guid>268</guid><author>Ronan MacDubhghaill</author><description><![CDATA[For one year now, I have been carrying with me something of the emptiness left by the Tohoku Dai Shinsai - the Great Eastern Japan Seismic disaster. But that emptiness is something I had before, too, an emptiness I think that sits with us all in some way, a weight which is for us to carry, for we have no other choice. “Kaizoku wa chikara nari”, he said, his hands deftly sliding along the rim of the wheel, the same as if it might be a great big clipper ship and he a captain. Nagayama-san seemed never to grow weary, but just to tick over at that same steady rate - slow, sure, but he always got where he was going, and there was no-one who could take him down. If anyone tried, he’d just move aside, anyway.
When I saw that he wasn’t going to expand on that, wasn’t going to tell me what it meant, well, I went I was meant to go, said what I had to say, and asked.
“Kaizoku wa chikara nari. That means… Hard to say it in English. It means, you keep going, because sometimes that is all there is to do. Keep going to keep going, to become strong again. You feel like you’ve lost everything, and when it feels you have nothing more to give, that gets taken from you, too. But strength is in continuity.”

We try to move on, carrying so much of it with us, when the truth is  that to love, to live, is also to let go. That’s true not just for  tsunamis, earthquakes and disasters, but also for the detritus each of  us accumulates through the course of our everyday lives. Nobody, I  think, gets out of life alive, unscathed, unmarked.

He stopped the car at the crossing, where the lights no longer worked. There was no electricity, but then, there were no trains, either.
Crossing cautiously, he stopped halfway to leave the road for an old man crossing through the dark by himself.
“Kaizoku wa chikara nari. You take strength from that loss itself, little by little, everyday. You are training in Kendō, but maybe you get an injury, maybe you injure your neck, so you train in Iaidō. Maybe you hurt your knees - you can try Kyūdō. Maybe you get too sick or old or stiff to do that - learn Sadōr. But you keep going. You must keep going.”
We drove past two houses, the entire ground floors gutted. In the darkness, the tangled mess of wires and rags, remains of what was once a wall, now twisting, contorted in the darkness swayed in such a way so as to suggest at first glance someone was standing there, or had been. The cars we drove past, cleared from the road as if from the world, were stacked up along the bank, as if they were toys mislaid by a child-god who no longer cared for them. Others still were scattered amongst the trees that struggled to break free to the spring. Most of the cars had crosses spray-painted across them.
“Why?” I asked, again, just as I had to.
“Why? Why ask why? Why do you always have to ask why?” Said Nagayama-san, glancing at me sidelong, and barking a gruff laugh, gravely, affectionately. “Because if you want to understand what Budō means, you must. Even the sharpest sword must be oiled, ground, sharpened still. You need to prune a Sakura to get the best cherry-blossoms. Things happen, despite and beyond you, but you must still take part.”

Never, you will never be satisfied with yourself. Your soul, it is far   too restless. But at those moments when you think everything is gone,   all you need to do  is to let go to see that you are not alone, and that  you can make it.

The car rumbled as it crossed a road still yet to be resurfaced, which had been shattered, torn and shred like an old rag. It slid slightly coming to a stop as the ground rumbled beneath the wheels. The shockwave moved through and past Wakabayashi ward, onward toward the city. We sat for a moment; that was only the short primary wave, the real shock was still to come.
And it came, and it went, like all the rest, stronger than some, not as strong as others. Nagayama-san restarted the engine without a word and we drove on. You get used to anything.
“When nothing is left, or it looks like nothing is left, that is the moment from which you gain true strength - the strength to grow, to move on. Never, you will never be satisfied with yourself. Your soul, it is far too restless. But at those moments when you think everything is gone, when you are wrapped up in your your own self pity, all you need to do is to let go to see that you are not alone, and that you can make it. First, you have to go through that. You have to feel that emptiness, that pain, that weight, just so you know you can feel.”
We made it the rest of the way up the hill without a word. From there, we could see the rest of the city, still mostly in darkness. We got out and walked to Mizuno’s.
“It means all of that?” I said, stirring up the silence.
“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s more elegant just as it is. Kaizoku wa chikara nari.”
Inside, the Izakaya was lit by lantern light, and heated by a kerosene stove. There were bottles of beer though, and he had still some gas for cooking. Better than cold emergency rations alone, that’s for sure. In the corner, the radio told stories of the separated, searching for loved ones, predicted the possibility of a meltdown a the nuclear power plants, and what the consequence might be; we didn’t know at that point that that had already happened, three times over.
We talked about training. We talked about the damage, we talked about friends we hadn’t heard from: suddenly I felt a gulf open up between us. The difference between me and the people who had lived there all their lives was that anything I had to lose had already broken back in my flat. I had no family there, not so many friends, and I knew that I would be leaving in a few months. Something like guilt - or envy perhaps - for not belonging, or for having the absence of anywhere to belong to, tore at my heart.
It was just about then that an elderly lady walked in, holding a young boy by the hand. They were locals, who still hadn’t any facility to cook, so they brought their food to Mizuno’s; more than they could really eat, and more than they could really spare, by the looks of it.
They explained to Mizuno that the little boy was from near Ishinomaki. His parents died in the tsunami whilst he was at school, meaning that they were the only family each of the other had left. His mother had been her daughter.
“We’ll stay together as long as we can, isn’t that right Kyoske-kun?” She said. Sitting on her lap, slurping his soba and soup, he nodded and intoned a deep “uun” in between gulps.
Nagayama-san and Mizuno-san, they echoed the little boy. Noriko-san, the Grandmother, gave a glance my way and bowed almost seeming to be embarrassed. I bowed and smiled, greeting them both. I was embarrassed - for what I had felt before. That they had a place to belong to wouldn’t bring his parents back, nor her children, nor any of the thousands dead.
Mizuno-san shot me a glance and topped up my glass, tapping the counter. “Hei, furrio gaijin, nommu-yo!” Nothing else to say, really.
—
Nagayama-san was right, and he still is. After the waves and the surging tides subsided, the mud and the debris piled up so high, too high to move past, or over it. We try to move on, carrying so much of it with us, when the truth is that to love, to live, is also to let go. That’s true not just for tsunamis, earthquakes and disasters, but also for the detritus each of us accumulates through the course of our everyday lives. Nobody, I think, gets out of life alive, unscathed, unmarked.
For one year now, I have been carrying with me something of the emptiness left by the Tohoku Dai Shinsai - the Great Eastern Japan Seismic disaster. But that emptiness is something I had before, too, an emptiness I think that sits with us all in some way, a weight which is for us to carry, for we have no other choice.
The way out, the only way out, is through. Pray for the dead, and remember the living.
Kaizoku wa chikara nari.


Nota

Kendō, Iaidō and Kyūdō are traditional Japanese martial arts of the sword and bow. Sadō is the tea ceremony. Sakura is the Japanese cherry blossom.
“Hei, furrio gaijin, nommu-yo” = “Hey, foreigner, drink up”, said in a friendly, cajoling way.

]]></description></item><item><title><![CDATA[La séduction]]></title><pubDate>Tue, 24 Jan 2012 11:02:00 +0100</pubDate><link>http://www.lescahiers.eu/articles/la-seduction.html</link><guid>260</guid><author>Stéphane Hugon Nathalie Duran</author><description><![CDATA[]]></description></item><item><title><![CDATA[Love routine (“Ah, L&#039;amour !”)]]></title><pubDate>Sun, 22 Jan 2012 22:25:00 +0100</pubDate><link>http://www.lescahiers.eu/articles/love-routine-ah-l-amour.html</link><guid>253</guid><author>Venyce (band) Lou Tavano</author><description><![CDATA[Pour la parution du numéro sur l&#039;amour, le groupe français Venyce a composé en enregistré une chanson exclusive avec Lou Tavano.The guy
Wipe away the sweat Now tell her a joke Don’t do wrong!Was it plain enough? Did she take a laugh Or make fun of me?Oh I need to know now Where it’ll go and how Where it’ll go and howSo unnerving yet She’sbeenlookingaroundussincewemet Some slip when I spoke?Don’t do wrong!Did she make a sigh? Or a wave, a sign That she’s into me?Oh I need to know now Where it’ll go and how Where it’ll go and howI am in her netIf passion is fair, she’s mine to get Hey! There comes a blokeDon’t stand down!Who the hell is that? What’s the dandy at? Is she into him?Oh I need to know now Where it’ll go and how Where it’ll go and howLove routineOh I need to know now Where it’ll go and how Where it’ll go and howLove routineOh I need to know now I need to know nowI need to know now
The girl
Such a waster! Come on, let’s go! Just a gesture – to show You’re into himToo shy to try Oh! Why can’t I Apply what I desire?Now he’s coming – maybe to talk Leave the comic and walk Up to him!Too shy to try Oh! Why can’t I Apply what I desireLove routineToo shy to try Oh! Why can’t I Apply what I desireLove routineToo shy to try Oh! Why can’t I Apply what I desire
The Guy #2
Ask him out! You never know Now don’t stand down!But the tart Round the bar? Is she into him?One thought, one aim Some love to gain To gainLove routineSomeone, someone Losing yourself Somehow in vain, in vainLove routineSomehow, some man Some love again One call, one call One goal: “Again”]]></description></item><item><title><![CDATA[La parade]]></title><pubDate>Fri, 13 Jan 2012 15:30:00 +0100</pubDate><link>http://www.lescahiers.eu/articles/la-parade.html</link><guid>215</guid><author>Najet  Ghaouti</author><description><![CDATA[Il était une fois, dans un pays disparu depuis, une femme dans un lit. Elle était couverte par les mains d’un homme. Dans celles-ci, longues, hâlées, quelque chose lui intimait de se mouvoir, lui arrachant, extraordinairement, la simple et seule féminité qu’elle avait à lui offrir. Merde. Voilà le seul mot qui lui venait aux lèvres pour nommer cela. Alors elle se mouvait, pour ne pas le prononcer, ne pas devenir un incendie, tiré d’une flamme idiote.]]></description></item><item><title><![CDATA[Theorizing universal Love]]></title><pubDate>Tue, 21 Feb 2012 15:24:00 +0100</pubDate><link>http://www.lescahiers.eu/articles/theorizing-universal-love.html</link><guid>264</guid><author>Ronan MacDubhghaill</author><description><![CDATA[
“What would be my spontaneous attitude towards the universe? It’s a very dark one. The first thesis would have been, a kind of total vanity; there is nothing, basically.
I mean it quite literally.
Ultimately, there are just some fragments, some vanishing things. If you look at the universe, it’s one big void. But then how do things emerge? Here I feel a kind of spontaneous affinity to quantum physics, where, you know, the idea there is that the universe is a void, but a kind of a positively charged void. And then, particular things appear when the balance of the void is disturbed. And I like this idea of spontaneity very much. That, the fact that it’s not just nothing - things are out there; it means something went terribly wrong. That, what we call creation is a kind of a cosmic imbalance, cosmic catastrophe, that things exist by mistake. And I’m even ready to go to the end and to claim that the only way to counteract it is to assume the mistake and go to the end. And we have a name for this: it’s called Love.
Isn’t love precisely this kind of cosmic imbalance? I was always disgusted with this notion of ‘I love the world, universal love’ - I don’t like the world. I basically am somewhere in between “I hate the world”, and I’m indifferent towards it. But the whole of reality, it’s just it, it’s stupid - it is out there - I don’t care about it.
Love for me is an extremely violent act. Love is not “I love you all”. Love means “I pick out something”,  and I - you know, it’s again this structure of imbalance. Even if this something is just a small detail, a fragile individual, person, I say, I love you more than anything else.
In this quite formal sense, love is evil”.
The above is from the documentary “Zizek”. The specific clip is available if you search for Zizek on Love in Youtube.
Love, then, is a violence, and it has the same feeling as violence. It is immediate, and in that immediacy, you can never create the proper distance to differentiate the truth from the fiction. This comes only later.
Love is a violence, and a silence, but only if it is of the truth.
This attitude towards love, spontaneously spoken, is telling of the problematic and elusive nature of love as a topic of theorization. This has been the case for Philosophers for a long time. The great big beardy grandfather of philosophy, Socrates, tells us in the Symposium that “the only thing I say I know, is the art of love”. This rather grandiose claim should be seen as a sidelong hint that, at least to the greeks, the urge to love (erôs) and the urge to philosophize (erôtan, to ask questions) have an etymologic connection. This connection is explicitly exploited in the Cratylus. His death, then, shows us that Socrates’ knowledge of love was then as limited as that of any of us when he conveys in the Apology that he knows himself to be wise “in neither a great nor a small way”.
Thus, the urge to understand the elusive nature of being (philosophy) shares the violent potentialities of Love.
On this, Derrida said : “I have really nothing to say about love. At least pose a question. I can’t examine ‘love’ just like that”. After some time spent, apparently in thought, he continues to say “I have an empty head on love in general”. Unsurprising, perhaps. Another pause, and he says “Do I love you, or do I love something about you; do I love someone because of the absolute singularity that they are, I love you because you are you, Or do I love your qualities, your beauty, your intelligence?” A better, but in the end, inadequate point. Ultimately, and after a great many words, the conclusion was : “Fidelity is threatened by the difference between the who and the what”. Jacques Derrida (in interview).
This is important: the difference between the who and the what. Love is an indelible part of the human experience, and as such it is as difficult to put into words as that experience itself. However, in general terms, surely we could admit that throughout that experience, we are caught somewhere on a continuum, both ends equally unattainable to us.
To use again Zizek’s analogy of the universe from the perspective of quantum physics is instructive. In its beginning, it is a violence so compelling so as to conjure up all of creation. In its end, it the silence of stars spinning endlessly beyond each others reach. Where we exist, is what astronomers call the goldilocks zone - “not too hot, not too cold, just right”. We exist in between the ambivalence of the who, the absolute moment of violent creation, and the what, the silence of dear stars. This is where things are still free to form and un-form.
The whole process of creation is coextensive with human thought.
Love, like the universe, is particular, not universal.
The universe, the entirety of existence, is love.]]></description></item><item><title><![CDATA[Une expérience paroxystique : la free-party]]></title><pubDate>Wed, 19 Jan 2011 18:36:00 +0100</pubDate><link>http://www.lescahiers.eu/articles/une-expérience-paroxystique-la-free-party.html</link><guid>162</guid><author>Hélène Houdayer</author><description><![CDATA[Quelle socialité se réalise à travers les consommations de drogues qui ont lieu durant les free-party ? Ces dernières prennent la forme d’excursions, physiques tout autant que spirituelles, à travers la thématique du voyage et du chemin accompli pour parvenir au sein de la fête ; psychiques tout autant que sociales, si l’on songe aux états modifiés de conscience qui conduisent le participant vers des émotions intensifiées et encouragées par l’usage de psychotropes, et dont le parcours festif aboutit à des formes d’effervescences partagées fondant l’assise d’une communauté.]]></description></item><item><title><![CDATA[Technologie et rêve d&#039;humanité]]></title><pubDate>Wed, 19 Jan 2011 18:16:00 +0100</pubDate><link>http://www.lescahiers.eu/articles/technologie-et-rêve-d-humanite.html</link><guid>148</guid><author>Moisés de Lemos Martins</author><description><![CDATA[Le réel nous procure un sentiment de mélancolie lorsqu’il nous manque ou lorsqu’il nous laisse en porte-à-faux. Mais, s’il est vrai que, avec Hegel, la chouette de Minerve ne s’envolait qu’au crépuscule, aujourd’hui cette sagesse est teintée de la mélancolie du mythe. Voici la porte du château qu’il faut bien ouvrir afin que nous puissions comprendre la culture contemporaine et pour que nous puissions nous comprendre nous-mêmes.]]></description></item><item><title><![CDATA[Rêve instrumental]]></title><pubDate>Thu, 20 Jan 2011 12:26:00 +0100</pubDate><link>http://www.lescahiers.eu/articles/rêve-instrumental.html</link><guid>177</guid><author>Erik Davis</author><description><![CDATA[La triangulation de Malinowski entre la magie, la religion et la science nous invite à interpréter notre société en envisageant des fécondes analogies : les parallèles magie-technique et religion-science nous plongent alors dans la “part magique” des technologies informatiques et des processus de programmation contemporains, en éclaircissant la valeur et les résonances mystiques des jeux de rôle issus de l’heroic fantasy.]]></description></item><item><title><![CDATA[Mythos ex machina, où il est question de Prométhée, Faust et Frankenstein]]></title><pubDate>Wed, 19 Jan 2011 18:34:00 +0100</pubDate><link>http://www.lescahiers.eu/articles/mythos-ex-machina-où-il-est-question-de-prométhée-faust-et-frankenstein.html</link><guid>160</guid><author>Aurélien Fouillet Alexandre Prouvèze Philippe Franceschi</author><description><![CDATA[“Votre électricité est plus forte que ma volonté, docteur !”, John Doe. L&#039;homme n&#039;est pas auto-suffisant, il lui faut puiser des ressources d&#039;énergie dans le monde environnant et imaginer dans leur ensemble les mouvements d&#039;expansion explosive à la surface du globe. Le mythe est l&#039;hôte de cette imagination. C&#039;est un puissant courant magnétique qui passe à travers le corps et qui restitue aux cellules leurs charges électriques. Dès lors, l&#039;exploration mythique se confond à celle du monde. De quoi sentir que la réalité extérieure l&#039;est beaucoup moins qu&#039;il n&#039;y paraît : séries de figures symboliques inachevées, métaphores incomplètes, Prométhée, Faust, Batman et Frankenstein sont des panoplies du cerveau humain, des puzzles dont la forme varie en fonction de nos désirs. Assemblons-les.]]></description></item></channel></rss>
