On Sundays, I think about finitude.
As I look at all the things that I need to do, want to do, have to do, should have done, etc., I come face to face with the humanity I could easily ignore some other days. Some other days much busier, it makes sense to not be able to do everything, but not on the day of supposed rest.
I have been studying about the infinite, as something that is beyond what humans can comprehend. We can only at times know of it in glimpses—miracles, if you will. We are embraced by it like the cold morning wind that persists despite the harsher noon sunlight dominating with its heat. Over time, we forget, until the very next time that we are graced with something unexpected.
Today, I wanted to reflect again on Jean-Luc Marion’s ‘melancholia’ (God Without Being, 1991). I also wanted to complete my preparations for a meditation on Paul Ricœur’s imagination. There is also work to be done—I would say are as there are a number of them and they may have perhaps been coming at me with some urgency. What else is there? I wanted to sketch more than one rough frame (the ‘happy Sunday’ above). I wanted to read more, write more, make more art. Perhaps I seek an infinity of sorts, but it may also be the case that being glad at what finitude there is—that I am—is okay. After all, the little that is given in whole is said to be more than the spare change of plenty.
