#frederic gros

[yorgunherakles]

gecenin köründe uyanıverdiğiniz bir an olur hep.

frederic gros - yürümenin felsefesi

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Felix Vallotton - The White Beach, 1913.

* * * *

“None of your knowledge, your reading, your connections will be of any use here: two legs suffice, and big eyes to see with. Walk alone, across mountains or through forests. You are nobody to the hills or the thick boughs heavy with greenery. You are no longer a role, or a status, not even an individual, but a body, a body that feels sharp stones on the paths, the caress of long grass and the freshness of the wind. When you walk, the world has neither present nor future: nothing but the cycle of mornings and evenings. Always the same thing to do all day: walk. But the walker who marvels while walking (the blue of the rocks in a July evening light, the silvery green of olive leaves at noon, the violet morning hills) has no past, no plans, no experience. He has within him the eternal child. While walking I am but a simple gaze.”

Frédéric Gros - A Philosophy of Walking.

[Ravenous Butterflies]

[bohemkokusu]

"Yürümek iki mesafe arasında gidip gelmek değil yaratıcı bir eylemdir. Hem kendi yalnızlığımıza çekildiğimiz hem de toplum olarak bizi dönüştürecek bir ayağa kalkıştır. İki büklüm vücudun karşısında dikilmeye çalışan, attığı her adımda yeryüzünün gerçek parçası olduğumuzu fark eden Homo Viator'un eylemidir. Çünkü Yürüyen İnsan kendi üzerine çöken kaygı, haset ve korku yumaklarını çözer, varlığını yeryüzünün ebediyen yeni olan kalbine düğümler. Yürüyoruz, işte bu düğümü atmak için."

[dk-thrive]

None of your knowledge, your reading, your connections will be of any use here

“None of your knowledge, your reading, your connections will be of any use here: two legs suffice, and big eyes to see with. Walk alone, across mountains or through forests. You are nobody to the hills or the thick boughs heavy with greenery. You are no longer a role, or a status, not even an individual, but a body, a body that feels sharp stones on the paths, the caress of long grass and the freshness of the wind. When you walk, the world has neither present nor future: nothing but the cycle of mornings and evenings. Always the same thing to do all day: walk. But the walker who marvels while walking (the blue of the rocks in a July evening light, the silvery green of olive leaves at noon, the violet morning hills) has no past, no plans, no experience. He has within him the eternal child. While walking I am but a simple gaze.”

― Frédéric Gros, A Philosophy of Walking. John Howe, Translator. (Verso, April 8, 2014) (via Alive on All Channels)

[mrsdallowayreads]

What I mean is that by walking you are not going to meet yourself. By walking, you escape from the very idea of identity, the temptation to be someone, to have a name and a history. Being someone is all very well for smart parties where everyone is telling their story, it’s all very well for psychologists’ consulting rooms. But isn’t being someone also a social obligation which trails in its wake – for one has to be faithful to the self-portrait – a stupid and burdensome fiction?

A Philosophy of Walking by Frédéric Gros

[huzursuzlugun-blogu]

"Kopmak zordur" der Nietzsche

"Bir bağı ortadan kaldırmak acı vericidir. Fakat çok geçmeden yerine yeni bir kanat çıkar."

[quaerens-s]

“Kalabalık, yapım aşamasındaki metalaşmış bir geleceğin tecrübe edilmesidir. Bu geleceğin savurup sürüklediği birey, anonim dalgalara sunulan bir ürüne indirgenir. Sunulan birey, akıntıya uyum sağlar. Kalabalık içinde olmak, tüketiliyor olma intibası uyandırır: bedeni kısıtlayan hareketler, bedeni sarsan ani krizler. Sokaklar, bulvarlar tarafından tüketilir insan. Tabelalar ve vitrinler yalnızca meta değiş-tokuşunu ve dolaşımını güçlendirmek için vardır.”

| Frédéric Gros, Yürümenin Felsefesi (s. 155)

[lioninsunheart]

“None of your knowledge, your reading, your connections will be of any use here: two legs suffice, and big eyes to see with. Walk alone, across mountains or through forests. You are nobody to the hills or the thick boughs heavy with greenery. You are no longer a role, or a status, not even an individual, but a body, a body that feels sharp stones on the paths, the caress of long grass and the freshness of the wind. 

When you walk, the world has neither present nor future: nothing but the cycle of mornings and evenings. Always the same thing to do all day: walk. But the walker who marvels while walking (the blue of the rocks in a July evening light, the silvery green of olive leaves at noon, the violet morning hills) has no past, no plans, no experience. He has within him the eternal child. 

While walking I am but a simple gaze.”

― Frédéric Gros, A Philosophy of Walking