#água viva

[petaltexturedskies]

Clarice Lispector, from Água Viva (tr. by Stefan Tobler)

[thirdity]

But if I hope to understand in order to accept things — the act of surrender will never happen. I must take the plunge all at once, a plunge that includes comprehension and especially incomprehension. And who am I to dare to think? What I have to do is surrender. How is it done? I know however that only by walking do you know how to walk and — miracle — find yourself walking.

Clarice Lispector, Água Viva

[flipchild]

My eyes are shut. I am pure unconsciousness. They already cut the umbilical cord: I am unattached in the universe. I don’t think but feel the it. With my eyes I blindly seek the breast: I want thick milk. No one taught me to want. But I already want. I’m lying with my eyes open looking at the ceiling. Inside is the darkness. An I that pulses already forms. There are sunflowers. There is tall wheat. I is.

I hear the hollow boom of time. It’s the world deafly forming. If I can hear that is because I exist before the formation of time. “I am” is the world. World without time. My consciousness now is light and it is air. Air has neither place nor time. Air is the non-place where everything will exist. What I am writing is the music of the air. The formation of the world. Slowly what will be approaches. What will be already is. The future is ahead and behind and to either side. The future is what always existed and always will exist. Even if Time is abolished? What I’m writing to you is not for reading— it’s for being. The trumpets of the angel-beings echo in the without time. The first flower is born in the air. The ground that is earth forms. The rest is air and the rest is slow fire in perpetual mutation. Does the word “perpetual” not exist because time does not exist? But the boom exists. And this existence of mine starts to exist. Is that time starting?

It suddenly occurred to me that you don’t need order to live. There is no pattern to follow and the pattern itself doesn’t even exist: I am born.

I’m still not ready to talk about “he” or “she.” I demonstrate “that.” That is universal law. Birth and death. Birth. Death. Birth and—like a breathing of the world.

I am pure it that was pulsing rhythmically. But I can feel that soon I shall be ready to talk about he or she. I’m not promising you a story here. But there’s it. Bearable? It is soft and is oyster and is placenta. I am not joking because I am not a synonym—I am the name itself. There is a thread of steel going through all that I am writing you. There’s the future. Which is today.

My vast night goes by in the primary of a latency. The hand touches the earth and listens hotly to a heart pulsing. I see the great white slug with a woman’s breasts: is that a human entity? I burn it in an inquisitorial bonfire. I have the mysticism of the darkness of a remote past. And I emerge from these victims’ tortures with the indescribable mark that symbolizes life. Elemental creatures, dwarves, gnomes, goblins and sprites surround me. I sacrifice animals to collect the blood I need for my witching ceremonies. In my fury I offer up my soul in its own blackness. The mass frightens me—me who carries it out. And the clouded mind dominates matter. The beast bares its teeth and in the distance of the air gallop the horses of the carnival floats.

In my night I idolise the secret meaning of the world. Mouth and tongue. And a horse free with loosed strength. I keep its hoof in amorous fetishism. In my deep night a mad wind blows that brings me scraps of screams.

1973. Água Viva, Clarice Lispector, tr. Tobler. pub. New Directions

[ladysunsh1ne]

My babys🤌🤌

[amor-barato]

Ah, viver é tão desconfortável. Tudo aperta: o corpo exige, o espírito não para, viver parece ter sono e não poder dormir - viver é incômodo. Não se pode andar nu nem de corpo nem de espírito.

Clarice Lispector (Água Viva)

[bathroomchained]

água viva, clarice lispector

[cristianismosimples]

“Eu sou o pão da vida. Aquele que vem a mim nunca terá fome; aquele que crê em mim nunca terá sede”. João 6:35

[celestialmega]

Água viva by clarice Lispector.

[grapeagata]

So the word for Jellyfish in portuguese is Água-viva which can be translated as Living Water and I think that's kinda cool

[petaltexturedskies]

Tonight the moon is full. Through the window the moon covers my bed and turns everything a milky bluish white. The moon is gauche. It’s to your left as you go in. So I escape by closing my eyes. Because the full moon is light insomnia: numb and drowsy like after love. And I had decided to go to sleep so I could dream, I was missing the news that comes in the dream.

Clarice Lispector, from "Água Viva" (tr. by Stefan Tobler)

[thirdity]

No use trying to pin me down: I simply slip away and won’t allow it, no label will stick.

Clarice Lispector, Água Viva

[vagarezas]

Só no ato de amor capta-se a incógnita do instante que é duramente cristalina e vibrante no ar e a vida é instante incontável, maior que o acontecimento em si.

Clarice Lispector - Água Viva

[flipchild]

I hear the hollow boom of time. It’s the world deafly forming. If I can hear that is because I exist before the formation of time. “I am” is the world. World without time. My consciousness now is light and it is air. Air has neither place nor time. Air is the non-place where everything will exist. What I am writing is the music of the air. The formation of the world. Slowly what will be approaches. What will be already is. The future is ahead and behind and to either side. The future is what always existed and always will exist. Even if Time is abolished? What I’m writing to you is not for reading— it’s for being. The trumpets of the angel-beings echo in the without time. The first flower is born in the air. The ground that is earth forms. The rest is air and the rest is slow fire in perpetual mutation. Does the word “perpetual” not exist because time does not exist? But the boom exists. And this existence of mine starts to exist. Is that time starting?

It suddenly occurred to me that you don’t need order to live. There is no pattern to follow and the pattern itself doesn’t even exist: I am born.

I’m still not ready to talk about “he” or “she.” I demonstrate “that.” That is universal law. Birth and death. Birth. Death. Birth and—like a breathing of the world.

I am pure it that was pulsing rhythmically. But I can feel that soon I shall be ready to talk about he or she. I’m not promising you a story here. But there’s it. Bearable? It is soft and is oyster and is placenta. I am not joking because I am not a synonym—I am the name itself. There is a thread of steel going through all that I am writing you. There’s the future. Which is today.

Clarice Lispector, Água Viva, tr. Tobler

[fan-dos-multiversos-blog]

[ninevoltzheart]

divido-me milhares de vezes em tantas vezes quanto os instantes que decorrem, fragmentária que sou e precários os momentos – só me comprometo com vida que nasça com o tempo e com ele cresça: só no tempo há espaço para mim.[...] não se compreende música: ouve-se. ouve-me então com teu corpo inteiro. quando vieres a me ler perguntarás por que não me restrinjo [... ] já que escrevo tosco e sem ordem. é que agora sinto necessidade de palavras – e é novo para mim o que escrevo porque minha verdadeira palavra foi até agora intocada. a palavra é a minha quarta dimensão.

[diabolicjoy]

Água Viva, Clarice Lispector, 1973