A Little Interlude
What does my another look like?
The another has two quite distinct glances or passions.
Firstly there is a deep sense that the another is an element or a dimension which we all share within. The another is the pint were we loose what we are to a point us a point of our body.
This body, in the guise of organs and what follows on from those organs operated to reduce our minds to spare parts.
Here following Spinoza two things become clear;
On the one hand one is a series of different individuals and parts, and on the other these part will resonate with other parts of a similar makeup.
My foot is therefore a part of feet in general, as are my bones.
With this also fact my entire body might be said to resonate in other bodies with other bodies. As it does so it gives me a world surely.
And yet it is a strange world. This heart might be mine, and yet as it is a earth it accords with other hearts and can take on their rhythm and power. It is not then wholly mine.
Or better I live inside the resonances it builds with and through others. I am a part of the resonance. I am its inmate.
My nature is therefore to be caught up in a whirl of other rather distinct resonance. I am, in being a part of many different sympathetic relations.
They pock mark my mind and make me sing in a variety of different voices (as a dead canary in a jar might).
Nor is their any guarantee that these echoes of my mind will accord with one another. Who can tell that the sympathies of organiser the sympathies open by perception all hook together in my own body?
Why should then so unite?
Is it not more likely that they would in their parts pull me apart (and Deleuze suggests) and lead me a dance elsewhere.
The Body d a locus of resonating parts, opened in their relation to others, through their exchange with others (and here of unperceiving), is one of the great images of the another
One of the great legacy of Spinoza, a legacy dickens as well Deleuze draw upon and inhabit.
My opening, my sharing with the world makes me a series of spare parts, and it takes the twist of a Wegg foot to resist this capture in oddity and difference.
Secondly other humans taken in the round the other great other.
One might be the master of organs and bits of resonating body: the master of pulling them together and pushing them into accord, and yet if another does not value ones own life –if one is rejected in love, the entire pattern is lost.
Indeed a life as a singing spare part needs other to sing along (in a macabre chorus), because, without these others I is quiet literally a series of resonating bits. Others matter therefore in the same a bucket matters to matter. The define the algebra of form and delimit what the latter does.
To be a part-persons therefore to look for a lover who can hold the part, and seen value in them and through them.
One might be another the world, and yet in that anothering another other is needed, the one in which all these things lie.
For Mr Venus in mutual friend his another other is the love of a women who has rejected him: For Deleuze this another is given in duration, while Spinoza it is given in the attribute of God (that is the intellect as it grasps a change in unity).
Actually the rile of this entity is not in any of these cases merely passive (as a bucket). One does not contain singing organs in a box, but rather establishes cross theme and discordant elements across their songs. Theta is on challenges them and in that challenge rivets them together.
The singing mind is therefore as unified as the challenge it has been given. Mr Venus I infected with a sadness that infect all the dead parts of his life: Deleuze’s body without organs is destined to loiter in a universe which is always unpicking it and forcing it to find itself anew (and does so as the means through which it claims any unity of its own). or again the intellect does not lies in the mind, on the contrary Spinoza reminds us at the start of book 2 (and the end of book one or ethics) it has a pattern and power and challenge of its own (my mind challenges perception by forcing them into unity they might not otherwise have; My being a body therefore patterns what tumbles into that body, and does so though the fact that I have a mind).
It works is exactly the opposite manner to the singing parts. They work in pock marking a mind by taking it on detours it was not expecting, and breaking up the assume unity of the body. This other other works by directly coming a body as a challenge, and forcing it to hold itself together, to be a thing in the face of that challenge. A unity I forces from outside or better in the name of the outside: this unity operates then in construct with the disunity I find I already am, from the inside ;
That is I am caught between an another which gives the unity of the inner as a response o a challenge beyond (and forces me to be as a thing); and that other other within, that makes what I am naturally lead me to places or better already be within places I could not foresee or understand as a simple thing.
It is then the oddity of humanity that these two element (morals and ethics, rights and life) are utterly desperate challenge…