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User:VargasMilan/I and Thou/Part 1 (view source)
Revision as of 21:05, July 22, 2019
, 21:05, July 22, 2019+ last section, section 29, completed ''Part One''
''I and Thou''
''I and Thou''
''Part One'' [incomplete]
''Part One''
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T{{sc|o man the world is twofold}}, in accordance with his twofold attitude.
T{{sc|o man the world is twofold}}, in accordance with his twofold attitude.
Or on the other hand, man meets what exists and becomes as what is over against him, always simply a ''single'' being and each thing simply as being. What exists is opened to him in happenings, and what happens affects him as what is. Nothing is present for him except this one being, but it implicates the whole world. Measure and comparison have disappeared; it lies with yourself how much of the immeasurable becomes reality for you. These meetings are not organised to make the world, but each is a sign of the world-order. They are not linked up with one another, but each assures you of your solidarity with the world. The world which appears to you in this way is unreliable, for it takes on a continually new appearance; you cannot hold it to its word. It has no density, for everything in it penetrates everything else; no duration, for it comes even when it is not summoned, and vanishes even when it is tightly held. It cannot be surveyed, and if you wish to make it capable of survey you lose it. It comes, and comes to bring ''you'' out; if it does not reach you, meet you, then it vanishes; but it comes back in another form. It is not outside you, it stirs in the depth of you; if you say "Soul of my soul" you have not said too much. But guard against wishing to remove it into your soul—for then you annihilate it. It is your present; only while you have it do you have the present. You can make it into an object for yourself, to experience and to use; you must continually do this—and as you do it you have no more present. Between you and it there is mutual giving: you say ''Thou'' to it and give yourself to it, it says ''Thou'' to you and gives itself to you. You cannot make yourself understood with others concerning it, you are alone with it. But it teaches you to meet others, and to hold your ground when you meet them. Through the graciousness of its comings and the solemn sadness of its goings it leads you away to the ''Thou'' in which the parallel lines of relations meet. It does not help to sustain you in life, it only helps you to glimpse eternity.
Or on the other hand, man meets what exists and becomes as what is over against him, always simply a ''single'' being and each thing simply as being. What exists is opened to him in happenings, and what happens affects him as what is. Nothing is present for him except this one being, but it implicates the whole world. Measure and comparison have disappeared; it lies with yourself how much of the immeasurable becomes reality for you. These meetings are not organised to make the world, but each is a sign of the world-order. They are not linked up with one another, but each assures you of your solidarity with the world. The world which appears to you in this way is unreliable, for it takes on a continually new appearance; you cannot hold it to its word. It has no density, for everything in it penetrates everything else; no duration, for it comes even when it is not summoned, and vanishes even when it is tightly held. It cannot be surveyed, and if you wish to make it capable of survey you lose it. It comes, and comes to bring ''you'' out; if it does not reach you, meet you, then it vanishes; but it comes back in another form. It is not outside you, it stirs in the depth of you; if you say "Soul of my soul" you have not said too much. But guard against wishing to remove it into your soul—for then you annihilate it. It is your present; only while you have it do you have the present. You can make it into an object for yourself, to experience and to use; you must continually do this—and as you do it you have no more present. Between you and it there is mutual giving: you say ''Thou'' to it and give yourself to it, it says ''Thou'' to you and gives itself to you. You cannot make yourself understood with others concerning it, you are alone with it. But it teaches you to meet others, and to hold your ground when you meet them. Through the graciousness of its comings and the solemn sadness of its goings it leads you away to the ''Thou'' in which the parallel lines of relations meet. It does not help to sustain you in life, it only helps you to glimpse eternity.
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The {{sc|world of}} ''It'' is set in the context of space and time.
The world of ''Thou'' is not set in the context of either of these.
The particular ''Thou'', after the relational event has run its course, ''is bound'' to become an ''It''.
The particular ''It'', by entering the relational event, ''may'' become a ''Thou''.
These are the two basic privileges of the world of ''It''. They move man to look on the world of ''It'' as the world in which he has to live, and in which it is comfortable to live, as the world, indeed, which offers him all manner of incitements and excitements, activity and knowledge. In this chronicle of solid benefits the moments of the ''Thou'' appear as strange lyric and dramatic episodes, seductive and magical, but tearing us away to dangerous extremes, loosening the well-tried context, leaving more questions than satisfaction behind them, shattering security—in short, uncanny moments we can well dispense with. For since we are bound to leave them and go back into the "world," why not remain in it? Why not call to order what is over against us, and send it packing into the realm of objects? Why, if we find ourselves on occasion with no choice but to say ''Thou'' to father, wife, or comrade, not say ''Thou'' and mean ''It''? To utter the sound ''Thou'' with the vocal organs is by no means the same as saying the uncanny primary word; more, it is harmless to whisper with the soul an amorous ''Thou'', so long as nothing else in a serious way is meant but ''experience'' and ''make use of''.
It is not possible to live in the bare present. Life would be quite consumed if precautions were not taken to subdue the present speedily and thoroughly. But it is possible to live in the bare past, indeed only in it may a life be organised. We only need to fill each moment with experiencing and using, and it ceases to burn.
And in all the seriousness of truth, hear this: without ''It'' man cannot live. But he who lives with ''It'' alone is not a man.