Last night I sat outside with the stars waiting for the moon. I felt pulled upward and outward by the vastness. What is it that one person plans to murder other people? How can we speak of regulating women’s bodies, and allow no regulation of guns?
I’m up early, again pulled by the light of the moon.
The state of CA has a $97 billion dollar surplus. Imagine if that money was used for education and infrastructure. Imagine if every child was given the gift of a Vision Quest, a week on their own in nature, a week alone learning the gift of survival and connection, the gift of looking up at the stars.
In the essay Spring by Gretel Ehrlich, she wrote:
“I think about the eagle. How big she was, how each time she spread her wings it was like a thought stretching between two seasons.”
Surely we can stretch our thoughts like the wings of an eagle, like butterflies fluttering in air, like the relationship between sun, moon, earth and stars.
The author writes about David Abram, a philosopher and magician, who was working as a magician at Alice’s Restaurant in Massachusetts. He would walk around tables, and coins would vanish and reappear in new places. Customers started coming up to him saying that when they left, they noticed the sky was more blue, and the clouds more vivid. They heard and saw more. “The magic tricks were changing the way people experienced the world.
The explanation: “Our perceptions work in large part by expectation.” “It is our preconceptions that create the blind spots in which magicians do their work.” “Tricked out of our expectations, we fall back on our senses. What’s astonishing is the gulf between what we expect to find and what we find when we actually look.”
The book opens a whole new world. Indulge!
One example is slime molds. “Physarum form exploratory networks made of tentacle-like veins and have no central nervous system – nor anything that resembles one. Yet they can “make decisions” by comparing a range of possible courses of action and can find the shortest path between two points in a labyrinth.”
One man, who can’t find his way out of an IKEA store, decided to test it out. He built a maze sized for slime molds and modeled on the floor plan of his local IKEA store. “Without any signs or staff to direct them, the slime molds soon found the shortest path to the exit.”
I wake, lay on my side, palms together and feel myself pulled out, expanding as though the Big Bang is me, and I’m pulling/pulled out.
It’s the 55th day since my brother passed and I feel him inviting me to explore with less seriousness, with more play and laughter. Laughter – well, now, that’s a big order and yet when we gathered for his memorial, we laughed hysterically, but that was a different kind of laughter. This is more grounded in joy as though my collar bone extends outward to hold balance with a bucket of source on each end, and my shoulder blades reach outward and down, dripping like honey, and my heart opens with more room to breathe.
I breathe, breathed, souled with delight.
Yesterday, Neal Stephenson spoke about his latest book FALL: or Dodge in Hell.
The book is influenced by John Milton who in the 17th century wrote the epic poem “Paradise Lost”. I knew Milton dictated the words because he had gone blind, but I didn’t know he was a swashbuckler in his youth. The poem shows the fall of the angel Satan who then tempts Adam and Eve. I’m curious to read this almost 900 page book of Stephenson’s as “Dodge” is the name of the main character, and Satan in “Paradise Lost” says “Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.”
Stephenson, like many of us, is struggling with this last election which is pulling us into dystopian times. He’s concerned with the loss of facts, which he suggests if we’re interested in knowing the evolution, we read Barbara J. Shapiro’s book,A Culture of Fact: England, 1550–1720.
This is the synopsis of the book from Amazon’s site:
Barbara J. Shapiro traces the surprising genesis of the “fact,” a modern concept that, she convincingly demonstrates, originated not in natural science but in legal discourse. She follows the concept’s evolution and diffusion across a variety of disciplines in early modern England, examining how the emerging “culture of fact” shaped the epistemological assumptions of each intellectual enterprise.Drawing on an astonishing breadth of research, Shapiro probes the fact’s changing identity from an alleged human action to a proven natural or human happening. The crucial first step in this transition occurred in the sixteenth century when English common law established a definition of fact which relied on eyewitnesses and testimony. The concept widened to cover natural as well as human events as a result of developments in news reportage and travel writing. Only then, Shapiro discovers, did scientific philosophy adopt the category “fact.” With Francis Bacon advocating more stringent criteria, the witness became a vital component in scientific observation and experimentation. Shapiro also recounts how England’s preoccupation with the fact influenced historiography, religion, and literature―which saw the creation of a fact-oriented fictional genre, the novel.
Because we’re currently inundated with a masterful and disturbing manipulation of information, it’s fascinating to consider the origin and importance of facts. Can we have a democracy without an agreed upon source of information, an agreed upon meaning of words?
Okay, back to me as I look out on the ridge.I woke today aware of expansion but also balance. Since reading Culture and the Senses: Bodily Ways of Knowing in an African Community by Kathyrn Geurts, I’m more aware of the essential nature of balance in my life. For the community she studies, balance is the most important sense, so today, I balance expansion and contraction, and seep into the sky as it balances on the coming light.
I’ve been immersed in the practice of Sensory Awareness for over twenty-five years. I came to it when I was forty-three and knew immediately I was home. If you live in the San Francisco bay area, there’s a workshop coming up April 13 and 14. It offers an opportunity to taste more deeply and expansively this lovely world we share.
Here’s a photo of me and others touching a Gingko tree at Vallombrosa in Menlo Park. This year the workshop will be at the Shambhala Center in Berkeley to make it easier to access.
The practice of Sensory Awareness is a gift in my life.