Is this Time?

Performing Science
Marie Garlock
Dr. Jules Odendahl-James
February 23, 2011

Click this link for piece below with full formatting in PDF. there is something beyond this time

The doctor feels this pressure to make a decision, to tell you a number,
because you’re right there in the room with them.  Maybe.
They need to come up with an answer, to give you an answer.
But it’s not like ‘you’ stop after the doctor’s appointment – ‘you’ continue.
And the doctor continues too – {and so does what’s happening inside of you} –
Friend (age 25), whose father passed away last year from stage 4 leukemia/myloma.

Accept diagnosis, as law immutable.
Is this time? What does it do if it is true?

The fact is, I’m a thinking, free agent, with the ability to choose, how I interact with these facts – there’s that whole thing about ‘you’re not the boss a’ me’ …but it’s not a denial thing, it’s an exploration thing…I’m willing to see if there’s another way to see these facts.
- (Family Friend, 50), dealing with stage 4 cancer for 4.5  years

[Among several interview portions,
recently held,
which inspired the below]

—-

[Movement to accompany.

And various “doings” –

the physicality pulls it in from the abstract, as reeling without a ground,

this was seen as a “transition”piece perhaps

between other larger parts of an evening length

dance and installation work,

the physicalizing as context to “open the chasm” – into which we step]

the clock speaks

[a clock, sitting on clinician’s wall]

[a breath and gesture to open up the space]

[indicating, invitation, that this is the opening between secondhand and time

that into which we step,

physically, here for a moment between world and body – decision and volatility, the known, and, interacting, a concept of mutable dis/continuity ]

there is something beyond this time

between the secondhand

stopped short

a moment

I sit poised on a frame of concrete and blocked

fixed

frames

your doorway

between seven minutes

and counting

sharing curiosities

with the careful careless

breeze

of diagnoses

swept in

like a storm,

in a breath.

curving and carving apart

your bones

from their flesh

tumultuous,

my linear line

stopped at the fracture point

the fraction

of months and days

normalcy’s median, maze

….you found it rather tough to

navigate? to balance inculcate with propagate,

the healthy cells with their nemeses, found wanting

by these/your very premises

of divine and divination

of reify and recalculation

we don’t have it right

nor do we hope to

…your right is the mid section

between correct and death

when carcinogen carcinoma angiogenesis

is the term marker of time

instance immediate that is beyond itself

Constance onlooking, falls to fell and fell to falls beside itself

with surprise, shocked

and willful eyes

that fairfully observe

the witness

from the seat

of consciousness unconscious

curiosity

which does not hear (its) limits

but (its)

prophecy

that reverberating, time

is responsive,

recalcitrant

Divine

the excess interior

infolding   at feedback loops the channel

red and parting

to reveal the ulterior

motive

who bears no markings of the rules

but only the cogency

to live

not defiant

just creative

the resonance exceeds

unit, united measurement

of

intensity unbound

of virtual autonomic antinomic

double function double body double time

(myth and symbol are not exhausted,

the signifier’s just not mine)

in moment of relations

between motion, and rest,

emergent

deleterious

material,

ethics

unreduced

ethereal

it is not a war

dialectic

but tension between

the released

and the venture

the unresolved

potential

knowing you shall die

how then shall you live

knowing you shall live

how then? ————————————–

To choose.

( I choose )

( to use my autonomy to maximize my hope )..

(February 20 and 21)

there is something beyond this time

in this

moment

there is,

dotted

like vein walls

and affect

pulsing through our frame

with the how

a current

(finding you against

it

it

swirls,

in the capillaries, cillial expanse

the wind, alone,

knows

your name

and calls to

the seaboard – neurons spread –

that it is yours to run

yours to fall or step or glean into

this stream of unbridled

phrase

the careful

planning it took,

all for this moment,

has become automatic,

(it is not even a thought)

the discursive (verge)

the biological urge

we are not afraid to die

but to live

all your Presence

has led us to anything

But the same.

How then shall we live,

knowing we will be Living?

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