Ironing and Intersubjectivity

Lots of ironing today, as we said farewell to one family, and will welcome a new bunch after Shabbat. Both families have members participating in the Maccabiah games. I love my ironing time. Words and thoughts smooth themselves with the billowy sheets and pillowcases. Suddenly, while ironing the white duvet cover for the master bedroom, with eyelet that matches the lacy white ice cream table on the balcony overlooking the sea, I had an aha! about intersubjectivity. If "I" am the subject, ("I" is the subject?) and everyone else is an object, an instrument to use, a source of income, an object of my anger, of my jealousy, or even an object of my love, then we are talking about subjectivity. Suddenly, if we have intersubjectivity, I am a subject and you are a subject. "We" is a loop. "We" is a strange loop, a magical loop, a mystical I-thou, both of us mattering, both of us thinking the thoughts, our caring for one another a natural process; no virtue of generosity or empathy need be invoked, because these are inherent to intersubjectivity. Must think about this more, but first, must fold beach towels.


Between guests, we're off to Kibbutz Beit Alfa for Shabbat. Dani and Sima will come with us to Sally Bar's Opening of a new show at the artists' village of Ein Hod, near Haifa.