A quote from DH Lawrence in relation to what Lost is really about:
We cannot bear connection. That is our malady. We must break away, and be isolate. We call that being free, being individual. Beyond a certain point, which we have reached, it is suicide. Perhaps we have chosen suicide. Well and good. The Apocalypse too chose suicide, with subsequent self-glorification… my individualism is really an illusion. I am a part of the great whole, and I can never escape. But I can deny my connections, break them, and become a fragment. Then I am wretched.
via What the Lost Finale is Really About | Religion Dispatches.
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It has become a standard practice for me now to make a slam poem from the words of opening or closing circles, as a way to reflect to a group something of it’s wholeness. These poems are completely improvised, using the words of the participants as material. There is a lot of reincorporation of people’s words in these poems which makes for a lovely reminder when I read it out and participants shift their awareness around the circle
A poem I wrote at the end of the Open Space for Transition Nelson. One of our participants brought her two chickens to the event to look after them while she was away from her house. On day two the chickens escaped, which explains one of the lines in this piece.
Practicality, courage
Where's the agenda?
Appreciative thanks
amazed it didn't tank
This scenario is a dream and it seems that
whatever happened, happened.
Woooo….
Gratitude is the attitude of rebirth
A reenergized connection, soft walk on the earth
Want to pass a torch but also linger on the porch of this
new house created by friendship
and the magic in the talk…
We gonna rock…
I'm already looking younger, cultivating the hunger
for transitioning, repositioning,
gestating and relating, digesting and reflecting
seeing what is born this morning
feeling what is important to raise
in these days of unity, community, in what is bigger than me.
I'm new to this place
but what a face you wear –
a community of angels who care.
It's open and I'm curious to see where it goes,
two feet, ten toes
I don't know, but somebody knows
and I feel direction, infection
a virus of creative work
the explosion of potential that stars from a spark,
light sparkling in the dark.
Thanks to the angels and the bees
and all that frees us to fly, respond to the calling
pick up those that are falling
and send them back in the air.
I'm more connected than ever before
walked through a door to a store full of knowledge and inspiration
full of awe at the creation of what's going on –
knowing that together I can be strong enough
to live off the grid, draw on my own power,
this is the hour!
Even the chickens have become free!
It's hard to do this alone,
to clear a field full of stones,
to live a peace that is co-owned
bring a bell to the young,
three deep breaths,
words that rest lightly on the tongue
and hold the terror of action,
the commitment to a fraction of change
to a group that can rearrange the best of what we have –
time, ideas, muffins –
strange resources for a movement, but sustenance is a must for sustainability
so that's good.
So in the shadows of locally hewn wood
in a place free of shoulds,
I acknowledge the work we have done
and the potential of what is to come
life springing from ash,
passion leading to action,
a rekindled fire that burns off
guilt and fear.
Inspired –
our future starts here.
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Been too busy to read the feed lately, but here’s some stuff:
- Dave Snowdon argues for data over information.
- whiskey river posts a little something that Dave might therefore appreciate.
- WFMU shares some really interesting older progressive music sounds.
And for your further listening pleasure: Steve Mason – All Come Down from Said the Gramaphone…very nice mellow tune.
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My twitter friend Durga pointed me to this article from Euan The Potter.on the Japanese aesthetic concept of “Wabi sabi”
Etymologically, “Wabi sabi” is based on the root forms of two adjectives, both of which are generally translated as “Lonely”. “Wabishii” however focuses on the object which is lonely, where as “Sabishii” focuses on the absence which makes the object lonely. The principal of “Wabi sabi” is therefore; Beauty reduced to its simplest form, and that form brought to a peak of focus by its relationship with the space in which it exists. That is to say, the presence of an object and the presence of the space interacting to strengthen each other.
The idea that space has presence is not new. Two and a half thousand years ago the Greek philosopher Parmenides proposed that it is impossible for anything which exists to conceive of anything which does not exist and that therefore even the space between objects “exists”. This remains in modern English as the concept that “I have nothing”. In Japanese however, it is grammatically impossible for “Nothing” (Nanimo) to exist (aru). “Nothing” (Nanimo) must be followed by “Is not” (nai). The idea of the presence of a space was therefore revolutionary.
To take it one step further, a tea bowl, being a vessel, is defined by the space it contains. It is not the pot which is important, but the space. In the tea bowl it is therefore possible to have the object (Wabi) and the space (Sabi) interacting within the same pot.
I think it is fair to say that, as in the art of tea, the art of hosting works with this idea to create both containers and spaces that provide the conditions for generative activity. It’s an elusive concept, the idea of creating beauty from things that aren’t really there, but that is why we call it an art, and when it comes off well, you can feel the strength of a well held container and the quality of the enclosed space.
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A poem by Ralph Copleman a longtime Open Space practitioner, posted this week on the OSLILST
The Days of Now
On the night before Now
we all clambored over
and greeted each other by the gateway.
Now came the first morning.
We opened for each other many conversations
and passed cups around the shining circle.
On the second of Now,
I could see a long way in people’s eyes
which cleared to let in the light.
On the third of Now,
everyone started dialing up tomorrows,
released laughter and embraced
every future Now with braided voices
and sweat-slicked arms.
Each night Now the sky
came down to join us,
like an animal testing the scents.
On the fourth of Now
we saw magic inside ourselves
and blew gently the embers in each other.
On the fifth day Now transformed
into pieces of hours and sounds.
There was baying and mirth
and sweet fresh rubbing of skin on skin.
The sixth of Now saw us
plain and fearful, thrilled and drawn
to each other in new forever dreams.
On the seventh of Now
we redrew all our lines,
filled all the hollows, as Now expected.
At last the night Now
draped velvet and quiet
as hushed we prepared our ascent.
This night is that night Now.
It has unquenchable questions
and the same different beginning.
On top of morning Now
and all through evening Now
we waxed and shined the circle again
sipped each other’s songs
and touched old and new alike.