the earth: August 2008 Archives

The first act of will is to decide that time does not matter.

Immersed in the presence of this new language, I forgot that I was here for a reason! "We know you love your metaphors," Rachel teased before I came. The other roommate just laughed. :-)


Lauren described my fourth rock balance as "precarious." Ah - momentarily I recognized myself. "Taut control," said Andy Goldsworthy in an excerpt of a video we watched, "can be the death of our work." As the workshop ended, during the closing circle, Rita recalled Lila's introduction of Hermes, the god of boundaries and the travelers who cross them. (Hermes is also the god of thieves: what greater boundaries are there to cross than those imposed by custom and law? (shhhh!))


I had forgotten. Our teacher, Lila Higgins, spoke first in the closing circle, describing the cairn she'd built a few days earlier at the crossroads leading to our final rock balancing site,





and her delight in communion with the unknown balancer who had rebuilt it in the days since. Listening to her, my consciousness was nudged to remember: I was here to mark the current turn in the trajectory of my life. Then, after others including myself had spoken, Rita recalled Hermes. How had that god slipped my mind?! It seems I had achieved - if only for a short while - the intention expressed by another workshopper,

We watched videos of Bill Dan building rock balances, and also of George Quasha. My mind required time (exposure, continuity) to shift from its usual operational state-of-consciousness (ahem) to this altered perceptual state "charged with an air of contingency" in which time has no substance. For hours at a stretch, I experience only concentration and sensation: ripples of subdued emotion (annoyance, tenderness, impatience, resolve, fear of failure, renewed commitment) and yearning for that satisfying moment when the rock finds its place.

Will my intellectual work emanate a similar resonance? I hope so. :-) I have felt similar types of 'click moments' in the past. Trusting them has led me here - to this junction, where I discover conviction deepening without reducing uncertainty.





Carter Ratcliff introduces the artistic ethic of George Quasha (who is inspired by John Cage) with words that likewise describe the ethical center of my action research goal:

More photos of rock balancers and some rock balances produced during this workshop are on this page at Lila's rockbalancer site.

See also hickoree, rebranca46 (Rocks Balancing), and bebalance (Super Balance: Birds, Bottle, Bricks, Birds Again...).

Summer has been at its peak, climate-wise, for the past few weeks.

During bicycle rides, I've been taking in the deep smells of haying, the lighter fragrances of flowers and crops, and the occasional blast of cow manure. The temperature has begun to drop more at night, a harbinger of fall - especially in combination with some early leaf-turning.

I will miss Massachusetts this upcoming year - and who would ever have guessed I'd be saying that?! Yesterday, while floating down the Deerfield River in an inner tube with raucous friends, trying to dodge vigorous rafters and avoid skewering by overzealous kayakers, I thought, "But why not? I was conceived here." The spark of potential consciousness embedded at that biological instant probably drew energy from these environs. (From where else could it come?)

The past month has been a blur of teaching, proposal-writing/refining, and soaking up as much socializing before the community's inevitable dispersal. So many have already left, with so many soon to follow. My own departure approaches: probably temporary but who ever knows for sure?





Types of fare-thee-well gatherings vary from certain kinds of overstock to full spread (delectable) meals, and gifts.

All manner of pronouncements have been made at said events, from "I will never forget!" to

Memory is short, however. ;-) And so a lot of time gets spent milling around. "We are waiting for a reason," Hunter posed - not wanting to actually ask the question but wondering nonetheless. "Nobody knows what's happening." Dhara explained our group's arduously slow process of decision-making while I mused on cultural differences. It struck me with the force of revelation that I have hardly ever waited for groups/events to happen. No wonder I'm so apt to the production of something, to doing something, of there being a thing requiring participatory action on my part! This is the (U.S.) american enculturation process - deep training beginning with preschool about time (schedules), timing (hurry up, switch now), and completion (well, we may not get a chance to come back to that so you better just get it done now).

"This," Don intoned on the edge of the Deerfield River, "is how it was at Troy." I thought he meant hordes of strangers merging for a common purpose. No, seems he had burning the boats in mind, so there would be no possibility of retreat. That is the way life is, ain't it? Sometimes you can backtrack but it is never the same as if you went that way the first time. "We need an airlift!" is not the same as, "Hey, can you drop us some more supplies?"

"You're not in Belgium yet," Zeynep advised, as she congratulated (us both?!) on returning from our mental moments elsewhere.

This morning I began to read an analysis of Obama's economic ideology, in which he is characterized as more left and more right than one might think, a position he describes as postpartisan. I definitely approve of this measure: "...changing the tax code so that families making more than $250,000 a year pay more taxes and nearly everyone else pays less. That would begin to address inequality."

We got kids coming, y'know? And there are so many already in the world, growing up under a new climate, with a different reference point for the planet than we (at least most in my generation) ever imagined. We got chances to make things better, different: more fair, more possible.