Potentionless, additionless, intentionless, possessionless, future-less, needless… less, less, less, that is the only key you ever found, it shuttered beneath all your proud statements, it was your faith (kindness, silence, servitude) neutralizing all your individual, until the last bad habit of Hell is eradicated from your “soul,” that is, your soul is eradicated, there is not even a trace of your heated prayers, your tender epiphanies, your naked heart moments in need of understanding and sense.
Time: the universe’s mending weep, music of beats changing, bases for happiness inverted and transformed—that you must imitate: the storm of forgiveness preempting judgment and the balancing of scales—Time no median mark but the immanence of the messianic: infinite smallness of self, instant, and trace left all quasi-indistinguishable, forming one “block” breaking the loops of worry and expectation and purpose—a deindividualization, the overflowing of the lived by faith: not in time or its powers, not in anything, but the nothing-of-the-world transited by faith, the “existence” we will have had in-One-in-the-last-instance—nothing but the insistence of the infinitely small, the radically immanent tininess of the universe indexed by a Messiah-subject who needn’t even disappear, whose entire and only being is prayer. The least of these: crystals of time choosing to believe in time’s truce, forestalling humanity’s anger, revealing the “empty tomb of grief”—imperceptible passion of the cleanse assumed, consuming whatever could be asked.
(The ultimate sorry is because “I did it.” May this hallucination be forgiven at last; that is the meaning of remembering the Sabbath. How happy we could be in-One, “without” desire, at the contact (One-in-One) with no forward to back, no word to pin in, no identity to obliterate—just the first given, without-givenness: the One-time of the blessing’s resemblance in-us. Never doubt that that contact with the non-temporal takes place. The eternity that is no beyond or outside or process has no characteristics; it is immanent, and there is no “only way” to its approach. There is no way for the one who seeks, but the one who “does not seek will be found” (Kafka). Forget the shell-shocked attempts and let-shudder, for this light trembling of love is the very character of the universe: such is the Messiah’s testimony.)
Temporality—where the self has to be, check its position, project feelers and test if it is—where the self tries to lose or attain itself but in truth simply misses all possessive occasions—temporality is really “after” eternity like an after-thought or an ability to make sense of the experience of eternity. It is temporality that fools us into viewing eternity as an indefinite length or as something that could only be what it is at the end or fullness of time(s). It seems like something keeps heaping up, the volume of an empty chalice increased to the exact proportion that it fills up to the brim. We conceive of this as a present fulfillment just as much as a coming one—thus is the present an immanent transition, or an accomplishment of history that loops back, affecting history and inciting it to consummation; or the present vanishes in the immanence of a radical past without transitions, and one tries to draw “back” from the present to this time called One or Immanental, as to a block of eternity. But what if the “linear flow of phenomena” were simply identical to an immanent eternity without temporality? Our conventions of language, the temporality it allows us to express, is then only occasional; regardless of its pressures, we know that in-One the division has no effect. The simulation of being-in-temporality need not be threatening or believed.
Temporalization—is for selves and the victors of history who cannot bear the immanence of eternity. To consider it through the language of testing (can you bear it?) is already to corrupt it and overdetermine the experience. What is there to bear if not the “no way forward, no way back” of an a priori contact with eternity—this one thing that it is worth believing in? The temporal being can always choose to see itself in-One or from radical immanence: its existence in eternity which it lives (loops and lines and spirals of temporality aside).
Yet it is not even necessary to say that the soul is all there is, since there is nothing apart from its eternal traipse. Isn’t eternity lived non-personally? There may be an interpretation that leads me to love how it has graced my life, but we know that this level is not absolute. Eternity is gratitude incarnate in a generic, “fleeting” state of the universe? It is the One that loves you in-One since you are the One-in-person without desires or cares or actions or a self to deal with or negate, to test or create ex nihilo. Who does not seek? What non-seeking is there but One-in-One? Quasi-immobile, nonacting, at rest, static: all metaphors for its operation on temporality, phenomenological descriptions of its experience when compared with being a self in the world. But that in no way excludes the possibility that it also be the highest passion of subjectivity or the highest poverty of a socius redeemed.
The self-consumption it seems I must undertake is simply occasioned on temporality and the self-bind it seems to institute and communicate, but which is devalued in immanence. Personal and social considerations may retain priority, but the One under-comes prior-to-priority. Will it forever be a struggle? Or will it be a weep and a surrender—the shudder of peace and entrance into heaven, the feeling of ascension in the appearance of departure? Heart of flesh, warmth of heart, the love of the loving and the loved: such is the prayer we must, because we can, trust. One-time is “enough,” forever enough.
Yet how can I resist wanting more? This is the paradox of being human: push on all the more strongly because the end has been witnessed or experienced, assumed at any rate. How shall I exist tomorrow when today I already exist in eternity? Only eternity can answer that question; everything we know muddies the perspective. The one certainty here is almost impossible to bear; the whole comportment is of trust or prayer. The kindness of humans starts and ends there, less one vulnerability, but without outcome, a pure means without end or salvation or recuperation in strength.