Aletheia

If I were to have a daughter, then I would name you Aletheia

Several years ago, I read that Aletheia, “before it became “truth” in the limited sense of a correspondence between a proposition and an object of cognition, named being as the primordial movement of “unhiddenness,” being unveiling itself in beings, the darkness of possibility ever anew pouring forth its secret riches in the fleeting sparks of transient beings.”

A larger Being unveiling in you, Aletheia, pouring into you, spilling over and out into the world through who you will become and how you will act and be in the world. I imagine light, of you coming from and into light, of gathering and holding and moving in and through light; being light, sharing light, glowing. I imagine darkness and how dark cannot exist without light and light not without dark and how thus everything is connected, the one found within the other, an inter-being, intimate and entangled. Of how it is said that we are all worlds and that we gravitate, pull push and attract; we dance.

I imagine exposure and ways of paying attention and how paying attention is a form of loving, is Love; how paying attention demands presence and how it requires dedication – apprenticeship. Light illuminates the world, reveals and caresses tree, rock and river; texture, form and depth, how else but through an illumination? A caress? How else but with attention? And so I worry that your unveiling, Aletheia, the many ways in which you will/might live, laugh, think, feel and be may fail to be noticed; inattention is a form of doing violence and in this world imagination and possibility easily wither away and decay if nothing but an echo is returned when we cry out; beings are not Being and in order to thrive there must be resonance, touch, and once in a while, a friendly nod.

‘Being, ever anew, pouring forth its secret riches in the fleeting sparks of transient beings’; Aletheia you will come from somewhere, stay but for a moment – the blink of an eye – and move on. Where you will go, I will not know. What you will do while you, I will find out. Certain is only that your moments of coming, staying and leaving will be marked; they will be momentous occasions, grounds for celebration and feeling deeply and feeling alive with and because of you. Your unfolding will touch on other beings, some whom you will permit to be more fully alive, some whom you will hurt, some whom you will barely acknowledge. You will feel alone and probably have many questions, perhaps turn seeker, troubled and curious, after ‘truth’.

And then remember your name, Aletheia, and how Aletheia ‘named being as the primordial movement of “unhiddenness”. Truth then you may discover to be not a destination, nor a quality that can be possessed, captured, held and fixed, but an endless movement, a process perhaps of a “gathering that brings all things forth into the light of being, holding them together in the unity of the world while also allowing them to shine forth in their separateness”; in their dynamic, fluid and in many ways un-nameable, un-graspable mystery. A movement then that you may join and flow with; a gathering that brings forth, experiences, lives with, touches but never clasps too tightly, controlling. Let your name then become your guide, ground you and be your Northern Star.

How then do I dare to name you, Aletheia? Am I claiming to know more than I ought? Are you the blank canvass that my flights of fancy, my desires, project onto, already, with you now only existing as but the slightest of possibilities along my own gradually unfolding trajectory; am I painting you by naming you before you are able to live into your name? Where does your name come from and should I be the one naming you? Some people have many names and some names are only known by some people; some names are never revealed.

Perhaps something larger is moving through me and your name has always already been written, or perhaps Aletheia is but one of many possible names which, had I lived differently, been surrounded by different people, impressions and places, would never have found you, Aletheia. Perhaps I am thinking way too much; and yet for whom but for you is it worthwhile to think? Because of you, Aletheia, I am already thinking and thought I hold dearly; not necessarily my thought but that which emerges in contact with life; and you are life, are alive, Aletheia – alive because I am thinking you… but I must be careful not to be thinking too much lest thought stifles; and be patient, await and practice attention, so that when you come, if you come, I will be able to be there for you, at my most present, a dance partner worthy of and capable of loving your potential, your aletheia – your unveiling.

 

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