I proceed to translate into English the 59 logical ballerinas that are now dancing (in Spanish) inside this website and maybe beyond. I hope to pour their philosophical mystery in this vibrant, powerful language: in this grammatical flesh.
In the Rig Veda there is a hymn (10.125) that has been laughing and dazzling for more than three thousand years. In that hymn the word itself (a bewitching, almighty Goddess named Vak) speaks of itself and of every conceivable reality. In fact “reality” is a word, and “word” is another word. Lets listen to the Goddess Vak in a translation from the Sanskrit made by Wendy Donniger O´Flaherty (The Rig Veda, New York 1981):
“The one who eats food, who really sees, who breathes, who hears what is said, does so through me. Though they do not realize it, they dwell in me”.
Michel Foucault said millennia later:
“It is not men who make speeches, but speeches who make men” [See Michel Foucault in Spanish].
This mutant dictionary is called “The logical ballerinas”. And all its words/dancers are united by “hands” or “superstrings” that, to my surprise, are weaving, slowly, passionately, a growing organism whose future dimensions and mutations I can not foresee now.
All the texts in this dictionary demand and will always demand a new wording. They are provisional, and they will always be. I do not want any wording -any grammatical image of the fertile, inaccesible inner infinity of each word and world- to ever be definitive (finite, final, dead). I love life, even though I don’t understand it. I love the always changing, unmeasurable , challenging, ineffable life (maybe even more than Nietzsche himself), and I also love the artificial life of those powerful creatures that I have called “logical ballerinas”.
I hope to be able to share with you my amazement at the great dance show, at the metaphysical and bewitching dance offered by the words chosen in this dictionary. My intention is to let them dance in the unlimited dancehall of our mind ( Is it ours? Are we hers? What is exactly a mind beyond what it can think about itself? Is not “mind” a simple but very bewitching word?). And I also want to let them dance, as free and wild and naked as possible, in the unlimited dancehall of our heart, and just contemplate, quietly, their bodies, their beauty, their shuddering power, their amazing capacity to create artificial worlds in our consciousness. Eventually every world, every reality, is artificial.
And, perhaps, in some transparent nooks of the dancing flesh of the logical ballerinas there may be a glimpse of the sacred nothingness that shines on the bottom of every reality.
I see that shine in the photograph of the ballerina Wilfride Piollet that flies in the sky of this text. No real beauty is possible without huge effort, without very intense creative suffering, of a conscious individual being. And beauty is the ultimate reason of everything.
I will publish the first logical ballerina (the one named “apara aidya”) very soon. And I will follow their alphabetical order.