tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52820647833406322502024-02-21T02:16:54.183+11:00Common.PlaceKittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-46942666208800146412012-04-27T07:04:00.002+10:002012-04-27T07:04:44.959+10:00Golden Mountain.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This morning before dawn, we climbed The Golden Mountain.<br />Starting off in pitch darkness, shapes emerging gradually from the shadows. Nature emerging from the blackness of nothing. Why is it that you can never see things emerging? You just suddenly notice that they have arrived, are there, in vision, seen, sensed, perceived. The rays of consciousness illuminate. The rays of sunlight let you see. The dense forest around you through which you could only previously sense with your nose. Sensing the dense. Foliage green, volcanic earth, a different kind of botany. Fragile well formed, hardy, shiny, dry, crisp. something somethings else too. Other things and things and things. More things forever, and forever there will be things. </div>
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____________________<br />(Blackness nothing becomes daylight something, slowly. Mountain is approached. Golden peak. In awe.)<br />_________________________</div>
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<br />Questions came to mind.<br />Why do we climb mountains? What are your mountains? What questions are you asking of the world? How did you get here? </div>
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What brought you here? What are you doing here?<br />Do you have the desire to ascend? What is the goal of your ascent? What (or where) is at the top?<br /><br />To see things from a higher perspective. To gain clarity. To achieve something you can measure in physical terms for once. To approach a dense being. How do you approach The Mountain? Simply observe its greatness? Attack it with vigour and determination? Humbly and slowly ascend in silence and solitude? Introducing yourself to ridges and scrapings of earth, rock formations, hardy shrubs and crumbly ice covered grit.<br /><br />To see as a mountain sees.</div>
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Feel as a mountain feels. </div>
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To be mountainesque. </div>
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A Mountainess. </div>
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<br />To leave the 'ego' behind. The little life down there with all its push and pulls. To quietly ascend, breathing in mountain air. The nature stimulating many divine thoughts. To notice the world below has a hazy blue aura with soft pink edges. To see the ocean look like a small lake. That vast eternal ocean, reduced in scale, to a speckle on the hens back. To see the rays of morning sun bathe the earth in warm love. To see the event taking placing in your heart also. A dawning. A respect. A Thank You. Always a Thank You. </div>
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__________________<br />(Around and about the energy circles up, clarity is formed as if evaporated steam off heated water.)<br /> ________________________<br /><br /><br />Fall in love with words again.<br />Respect their dripping content. Flush the system with golden nectar. Divine words flow. I invite you. They ask for space around them. </div>
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So it is Space they shall receive.<br /><br />There shall be plenty of space for a silent mind.<br /><br />Language and adornment. Adorned in the first light. <br /><br />To simply watch the morning arrive. <br /><br />No thoughts. No thinking. No judgments. Not even stimulating words of reverence. <br /><br />Just sitting and watching.<br /><br />To watch those pink rays waft down, ascending down as if drawn, warming the cool night soil. Through what magical law allows the light to trickle down? Those first morning rays have a special glimmer to them. To receive those first rays on the skin, sinking into your pores, breathing them in. Ignighting the conscious awareness within. Peace and the space of love expand. Seeing is being, drawing towards you the qualities of the perceived consciousness. To notice it you have to know it. To know it you have to be it. </div>
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<br />Butoh dancer Kazuo Ohno once said, "for the human being, to see amounts to the same thing as to eat". Perfect sentence. </div>
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_________________<br />(nothing you can say echoes the vastness of an empty mind. Its non-walls are the opposite of experiential. The exhibition space is now ready and clean to receive its next show.)<br />_________________________</div>
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<br />Knowing is being incarnate. The act of knowing is when the words and the writer become one. <br /><br />The mountain is condensed thought form. Many many hundreds of manifest thought vibrations. Its true that we create this world with our thoughts. Mounatins are formed, sunlight trickles golden, rivers flow, rocks sit, grass dances. They are all events we have written in our minds. Thought is the real action. Are we now experiencing our ancestors thoughts? Gods thoughts? My fathers thoughts, yours, mine? whose thoughts are these? whoever so, they left them behind to settle into matter. When a thought becomes solid enough, it appears. Simple as that. Mind is matter.</div>
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<br />They float around us, creating invisible spaces, pockets of energy vibrating. Clearing or condensing. Rising or falling. Negeative thoughts are heavy and they sink. Positive thoughts are light and they rise into new worlds, meeting with other thoughts of their own kind. Creating whole planets. Spheres of delicious light, nourishing projects that call upon them. <br />I invoke thee. Lift the little rocks in my mind. Tie them to silver string and make a mobile of dangling dreams. Chinking, clinking dreams like the wind chime. How many times have I heard that sound in my inner ear when I feel my thoughts chiming with others of their own accord. When my wonder filled friends speak their hearts in dancey combinations and all I hear is chink and chimes. <br /><br />___________________<br /><br />There was silence. A magnitude of silence. A hush in the mind. A hush in the soul. One inherently knows when it is a time for inner stillness. A respect for the space within and the space without. How one mirrors the other. A respect for your outer mountain and the inner mountain too becomes calm and clear. An ascent to clarity. Through the clouds. And out the other side. Though they seem windy, cold and bleak. That golden sunshine shines just beyond. And then you go to stand in it and its gone. Moves somewhere else. This elusive light, always moving about. Keeping you on your feet. Keeping you wanting. Keeping you human and just slightly removed from the proximity of divinity. <br /><br />Transcending the limitations of the physical realm. The material realm we embody. </div>
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To look up and say "I did that. I made that. I am that!" and then "I am beyond that". <br />I made that with my thoughts. I perceived it in my minds eye and then I climbed it. Whatever inner meaning speaks to you through that experience is yours and yours alone. We make our own mountains. <b>We have a great force of thinking and creative energy swirling atmospheric conditions into the production of form. Emotions and elements interacting to form causal events. </b><br />When its time to approach the mountain you do. You suddenly find yourself there without having made any effort to be there. Its almost as if the Mountain comes to you. <br />Your location/ proximity to various natural phenomenon tells you exactly where you are. What your situation is. Both on spiritual and corporal levels. <br /><br />I am currently in-between a mountain and the sea. Stillness and wildness. <br />I'll have to mediate on that potent meaning for a while. <br /><br />Devendra sings about how 'Mountains they move toward the sea.'</div>
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<br /><br />My heart knows. <br />But How much does it know? to what extent does its knowledge reach? It has made me realise that my heart really is the seat of all knowledge and wisdom in my being. It over powers the mind, makes it look futile and immature. It has also made me realise that yes, at our core is truth and beauty and health and joy and light and all the knowledge of the universe inside and out. And the heart is the gateway between these realms of knowledge, the life-essence as it trickles into the inert form of matter we have around us. The energy engaging with this inertia, makes it breathe. Makes it perform tasks outside of its self. Becomes the vehicle of the task. The energy is the real doer, the material is the host for the party of doing, happening through its walls. When you know the inner world, this outer one becomes so easy to reference. You can say… oh that rock reminds me of *some inner fact*, rather than the other way around. The outer world is the reference, the inner world is the fact. You can then engage with it all as a language. As a big clump of clay to converse with. <br /><br />Mother nature is my Guru. <br /><br />How do I get more words? Collect them. Scrape them together from the bottom of the barrel, find them coagulated and gooey in high potency formulas. Pick up a rock. There is a word there. Inspect the texture of a slug. There are words there. Uncover the words in your daily doings. Match in the symbol with its reference point. Make it a game. You are a child after all. Feel the feelings in the words. Word the feelings. <br /><br /><br />I'm off to go find some more words. Speaking in symbols again. <br /><br />Joy. rainbow joy. liquid joy. Enough love to go around for all. <br />Belly aching laughter. Knee slapping hilarity. <br /><br />Starting a catalog of personal symbols. Life as it brings these events to me. <br />The word is a replicate. These words are a replicate of my thought formations. Words make them transmittable, engagable, communicable. And so what exactly is the purpose of communication? To share ideas that unlock truths within peoples understanding of life. <i>To bring people closer to themselves. </i>aha! THAT is my divine purpose. Through things. Through yoga, through language, through art, through love, all vehicles for uncovering golden truths within. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Everything/ anything can be a portal to your Self. This very moment is a portal. I am here. I am now. </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-27519860677699596622012-03-09T11:55:00.000+11:002012-03-09T12:23:44.456+11:00Forms Emerging.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
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Sometimes you dont have to talk about it. The doing is a talking... but in any case...</div>
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A form a day. </div>
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Learning clay. </div>
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Approaching it humbly as I ask it to share its elastic knowledge of emerging forms and pure potentiality. I am patient with it. Following its lead, responding to its demands. It yields to my fingers, I test its limits, its ability to stand tall, to retain shape, flow and structure in one single momentous curve. <br />
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Sometimes it says flat out No! I say, ok, you know best, <i>so what shall you be?</i><br />
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The forms emerge then blend again. As soon as you think its going one way, it changes shape entirely. These are slow moves too, but so many things you have been already. So many things you could be. I could write a thesis on the potentiality, pure elasticity and consciousness of clay. The mystery of creation unfolds itself right through your very fingers.<br />
Its an incredible knowing, this knowing of the hands. </div>
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I want to make a form a day. To show the universe I'm ready to see some of my own emerging from the pool of potential I have floating around me. Inspiration is not the problem, wisdom and intention. Its action now that needs to take the lead. To start the manipulation of ideas into something more concrete. Something to spring from. The creative practice begins. The lump of clay is being approached.<br />
Life, unfold before me.<br />
I will yield to you and you to me. Together we will work to make something beautiful out of this earthy clump. We will not stop until we satisfy our need for beauty. I will approach you as a living, breathing being. Just as wild horse is approached by a new rider. You must respect its nature, its power, you must yeild to it in order to tame it, show it you mean no harm so that you can work together for the same cause (like in Avatar, those bird things, you first need to make the connection). </div>
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Then you become One. </div>
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Breathe the same breath, think the same thoughts, feel the same energy, use each other to articulate things. </div>
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This matter is not dead, it is not breathless, we think we use it but in equal measure it uses us to achieve its own potential. Like my friend Birdy as he tends to his Bonsai trees. He works <i>with </i>them, asks them first which way they want to grow. This respect for the spirit in things is imperative to making the world your friend. Building spiritual connections with all things living.<br />
And all things <i>are</i> living - all things are animated by the same breath of life.<br />
Charged by the same energy force.<br />
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In like manner, my life is this lump of clay before me. Learning respect for the natural qualities (spiritual as they manifest through the physical) within this particular new medium. Every act is a spiritual act. Making is the metaphor, the unfolding of theory into practice.<br />
Floating ideas a they find their earthly symbol.<br />
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Floating mountains on their way to a higher world.</div>
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The skills I will learn, through trial and error. God bless the errors. They are the truly defining moments of understanding. I am unafraid of mistakes now, unafraid of ugliness because it can always be smoothed over. Nature reclaims control and nothing is ever permanent. </div>
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Sometimes the moment requires you to work fast, gestural, fearless even rough in handling. At other times more quiet, humble, thoughtful, slow and patient proportions are needed. <br />
With every working a manipulation of the once form turns into the now form. Nothing ever remains the same. A piece is never finished. It can always be re-worked. No thing is wasted. The clay remembers everything it has once been and everything it will be. It is knowledge already attained in its elastic being. In its mind-stuff. The same amount of matter remains at all times on this earth,</div>
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already this earth has been many things. Probably even everything. <br />
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So much I could learn from this elastic earth.<br />
It has Truth as part of its molecular make up.<br />
It holds the answers to my questions of life and the spirit of creation. </div>
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Forms come and go but potentiality always remains. </div>
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The art of becoming. </div>
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The art of becoming what the clay wants to be,</div>
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for this moment anyway.</div>
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Then it will merge again. </div>
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Day 1: Collapsed bowl. now plate.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Day 2: Pinch pots.</span></div>
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<br /></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-87791459742722902012-02-17T22:13:00.000+11:002012-02-17T22:15:30.043+11:00The project of this life.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Am I relevant? Am I naive? Am I alone? Do I have a voice? Does my voice matter? Does it say anything useful to others? Am I using my hands correctly? Am I fulfilling my exponential potential? Do I hold the right relationship with myself? Do I hold the right relationship with the world around me? What can I do to help the world become more peaceful? Am I lost? Am I found?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">What can I do with these hands who want to work; want to create, make, love, caress, tend to, heal, gesticulate, energise, harmonise? They want to express, press, hold, laugh. These laughing hands. Where do they rest? Upon whom? Drenched in what? which type of clay, what kind of pen, finger painting, folding paper, finger nail scratching, etching a way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">These questions are right next to everything I do. My actions are encased in them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I want to be unafraid to speak. To find my right expression. To let the inner waterfall flow. out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The project of this life. Is unfolding the plan. Finding the correct path. Planting flowers along side the path for others who may follow. For my own self to follow. again and again. Its already been walked. I can almost see my own footsteps. For tiny steps I tread so deep. Noisy steps I have made. I've been here before. I'm picking up the pieces I dropped. Trying consciously to tread lighter, softer. Things will be rectified. The circle will be complete.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The blockage has been this pleasing nature of mine. Tailoring myself to fit what I think others want me to be. I observe what others are, I confuse myself with what others are. I'm just exploring myself. so little do I know. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I'm nostalgic for Gokarna. That beach. I was placed. Yet whilst there I was nostalgic for my own life. Always elsewhere. Every time we try to pin it down its not there. <b>WHAT is that thing that is never there?</b> And how do we know we want it, if there is no proof of it? The proof that it is, is simply that it is not. How far can we break down an atom before we realise that at the core of everything is nothing but cosmic energy. <i>"How do we know we are alive if we haven't once been dead?"</i> Says Allan Watts. Things are only there, only distinct in the light of an opposite. If there is an 'I' there must also be a non-I? There must be gaps in the music for the music to be. It is the gaps of nothing which holds the real music, the real beauty. Music is a series of gaps of nothing. A dance of a series of nothings. Such is life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">__________________</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Watch your feelings as if they are energies manifesting within you. Visiting you. Expressing themselves through you. Becoming aware/ known to themselves through you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I grab a handful of this earth. my knee. with both hands. I know its not really there. so where is it?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">What am I really grabbing when I grab my knee?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">tomorrow it will be gone? or something else. This knee will cease to be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I feel tenderness manifesting. I feel motherly. female. the healing nature within. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Soon this will attract to itself another. A beautiful stallion. Soon I will <i>ride, with my man, the stallion and the wind</i>. The bees will pollinate. then they will relocate.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">For ever I have been trying to find a reasoning for beauty. I've been defending it. Placing it within the importance of what life is. Now I realise it is beauty which gives life its meaning. Beauty is the crux, the aim, the reason for life itself. Creative prowess. Beauty let it be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Elemental studies. The study of the elements. The way they feel, taste, smell, sound, look, are. An arrangement of life, of feeding energies, interlocking, weaving, working, breathing. Molecular beings, appearing solid, liquid, gaseous. States of being. Simple. Complex. Signposts. Pointing silently. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Studying the matter, studying the spirit. As spiritual qualities manifest themselves in material symbols. The medium is the message. Observational techniques. How to observe, extract, become the knowledge locked inside of them. Absorb it into our own. Observe the patterns of nature. Work with them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">We recognise it as truth because we know it already inside. We forgot it. Life is a remembering.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Shedding, dissolving, expanding. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">One day I'm going to build a shelter out of twigs and drift wood. With gaps to let the breeze through so my skin knows the sky better. I'll sleep on a bed of grass and wash myself in a river. I'll let fire radiate, imitate the sun on me. I'll chop wood. I'll sing to the vegetables. I'll put energy back into the earth instead of only taking it. I'll know things I could never dream of knowing. I'll converse with all things. Understand the symmetry inside a flowers mind. Understand how trees grow upwards, how spiders weave, caterpillars cocoon, how butterflies realise. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">When I know these things I will paint the riddle in the sky with stars. Then lay on my back and laugh at how funny the whole thing really is.</span></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-26444696405168345832012-02-16T14:40:00.000+11:002012-03-09T11:59:03.031+11:00Morning Glory.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">This morning I surrender myself to the rhythms of the universe.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The sun shines. I lie in it.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I fixate my mind on the peace and tranquility that surrounds me. </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The water blue. Sky blue. All is a heavenly blue.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I ground myself in the dewy grass.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Warmth radiates around me, it penetrates into the depth of my being.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Light at its core, the sunshine meets itself in the middle.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I lay in Savasana.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I listen to the singing crickets,</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">the nattering tree birds,</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">the local sea birds soaring, preying,</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">the fish splashing,</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">the water lapping,</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The oysters popping.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I listen to these things being.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">To the morning being.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I acknowledge the soul in each of these life sources.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I thank God for this beauty.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I thank God.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">My head to the ocean</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">My palms to the sky</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I breathe.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I breathe deeply. Completely.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">With every deep inhalation I feel my stomach rise.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">With every exhalation it falls.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Rise</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Fall</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Rise</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Fall</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Rise</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Fall.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">My breath is a bridge. It connects my spirit with the physical world around me.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I breathe in the soul of the day.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I breathe in beauty. I breathe cosmic atmosphere.</span></span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I breathe heaven into my earth.</span></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I am warm on my East side. The sun side.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I become aware of the parts of my body in contact with the earth.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The back of my heels,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">legs,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">buttocks,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">the two small pointy parts of my lower back,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">my lower back,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">middle back,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">upper back,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">shoulder blades,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">my elbows and arms,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">the back of my head.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Gravity holds me down</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I am completely grounded.</span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I become the moment where earth meets the sky.</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I marry the two.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I am their child. Father Sky. Earth Mother.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And in accordance I become their union.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The blending of one into the other.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And with this knowledge I feel the boundaries of my self expand.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Then I feel the boundaries dissolve.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I feel at One.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I feel no I.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I feel not singular, the edges are disseminating.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Becoming All.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I feel day. Light. Awareness. Being.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">This dissolving sensation is the most beautiful in the world. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">When you lose yourself to the moment. Become the moment.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Pure. Bliss.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I relax in this state for a few moments.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Mind fixed on nothing but my own Being.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">My own breathing.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I breathe </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I breathe</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I breathe.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I start my Yoga. Union with the Divine.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I spiritualise my day.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">When I am finished my practise I walk myself down to the moment where earth becomes water.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I immerse my feet.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I crouch, cup my hands and fill them with the salty ocean water.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I bathe my face. Wipe wet fingers across my closed eyes. My forehead.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I repeat these words aloud;</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Consciousness. Truth. Awareness. Love. Beauty. Peace. Joy. Compassion."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I sprinkle another hand-cup full over my head and let it drip down over my face and body.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Like Holy water blessed by the suns sattvic morning rays.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I repeat the Universal Prayer to the vast expanse of peace and stillness before me.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I begin my day.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">This is my Sadhana. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-81548650899379219842012-02-13T15:55:00.000+11:002012-02-14T19:51:08.595+11:00The Boomerang in my hand.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I've been moving here, moving there</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">looking for a way to define.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Writing something. Crossing it out. </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Making a category only to change the name another day</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">when I think 'oh no its really more like 'this''</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">'this' is constantly redefining that which I am;</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Not working!</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Possibly because I've realised I am That which is undefinable.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I see myself in all things.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I notice myself in all things. </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sometimes being in the world feels like that moment when you glance at a reflection of yourself and your not expecting it. Your mind goes 'holy heck that person looks exactly like me' before you click that it is you.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">_________________________</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">She found it!</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">She found it through words</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He found it!</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He found it through sensations</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">They found it!</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">They found it through praying with the body</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I am going to find it too!</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I am going to find my way home!</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">____________</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Through using these things, by being these things until I realise the sensations only give you a taste,</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">a minute little fragment of what is to be explored</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">beyond</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">saturation of live elements</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The saturation of life.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><b style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Letting it come in, letting it reside, feeling it to the bone, then feeling it beyond the bone...</b><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">This is my mantra.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">...beyond the deepest aching part, the willingness of the body to receive the souls words</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">only goes so far, yet it reaches further, it penetrates through you starting from within and like a boomerang it comes back to the starting point - in a rhythmical circular motion moving outwards and inwards simultaneously. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Like a broken heart. Did a broken heart not begin from a place of pure bliss, from love? I don't understand, but I can FEEL it. And for some reason that is a form of understanding too intricate for the mind to conceive. That clumsy mind. Why do we trust it so much?</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">This is the way to feel things. To let them move in and beyond our capacity to understand them. They are beautiful. These earthly sensations. They are a blueprint. They are surface but grow from within. All things grow from within.</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">When I see this combination of earth sea and sky, I can't believe how much it moves me. I imagine myself exploding and shattering into tiny glittering molecules and scattering out like a heavenly cascade into the corners of the picture. And I KNOW I'm not seeing the whole picture. Into every little crevice I run, I land, I be, I sea. </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><b style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I mountain. I grass. I earth. I blue. I sunshine. I cloud. I ether. I glittery ripples on the water shimmering. I am.</b><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> these things. when unconfined by my body, I am these things. Even whilst confined, I am. My heart sings with this picture because it recognises itself. Such a perfect expression of beauty. </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">When you constantly think in waves of beauty and peace, and then you find yourself immersed in this image... its the Boomerang!! It produces laughter this boomerang. You throw it out into the world, and here it is, back in your hand!</span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">When your only desire is for your life to be beautiful. When you ache from within with it. </span><b style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">When beauty gets to that achy stage, you know its hit the bone.</b><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> It has manifest itself so deep it hurts. But what is pain? When hot and cold feel the same. </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Its pulsating. That's what it is, pulsating beauty. The mind drips with it, it licks it up off the blade of grass covered in morning dew. The earths atmosphere condensed like heavenly water. Diamonds. Sunlit diamonds on green blades of sword grass. Ready to be touched, aching to be touched. The grass needs love as much as we. Its needs passion, and to delight in the sensation of its own being. To rub against another thing, to feel itself against another thing. To feel itself. </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><b style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">This is what we do, when we rub up against another. On a higher level we are trying to feel ourselves. </b><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">My clothes allow me to feel my body. My lover allows me to feel my heart. This bed, this cup, this warm tea, this song… all touch my senses and allow me to experience myself. In external form. </span><br style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;" /><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Life is feeling from the outside, what we find is inside. This whole experiment on earth is to imagine what life is like from the outside. Yet its all within. The whole thing. That's the irony.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">That's the Boomerang!</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-86414497334321392912011-07-19T18:46:00.001+10:002011-07-19T20:31:40.129+10:00The tale of a sympathetic stone.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyJ-P7lylCIN6W6XxmF9gEfMlBdylI_mExUDspDqQfc2oHMp-eacWQ5X978vCi2b9NHIt1mM3iHmD3W8aM7R_PdW2qnYyBbGKak_3HgdqlJKbhV_iO-2XU_rgI_De9kOmwz7CtDSxSAXY/s1600/CNV000018+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyJ-P7lylCIN6W6XxmF9gEfMlBdylI_mExUDspDqQfc2oHMp-eacWQ5X978vCi2b9NHIt1mM3iHmD3W8aM7R_PdW2qnYyBbGKak_3HgdqlJKbhV_iO-2XU_rgI_De9kOmwz7CtDSxSAXY/s640/CNV000018+%25283%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt;">The tale of a sympathetic stone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="EN-US">________________________________________ </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%;">One day a stone said to his maker, “I’ve changed my mind. I admit… things aren’t quite as rigid as I once thought. I’ve observed flow. Can I be a river now?” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%;">The fact was that he was placed next to a river for a reason. He fell there after his stoic nature began to push aggressively outwards. He had had a disagreement with a feather one day, her flightiness annoyed him. The wind had blown her to a soft pleasurable landing atop his stern self. She didn’t mind for she was in a constant state of bliss. But the pressure of the feather landing caused a deep uproar within the mountain rocks, they were simply sick of these feathers fluttering about. Her delicate touch, a gentle kiss of freedom, created an internal grumble - a stiff opinioned response from these dense beings. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%;">The automatic vibration of disgust turned into an avalanche. The feather through her subtle example had set them all free. Rolling, falling, crashing, banging, blasting, cracking, breaking, crumbling, pounding heavily downwards, the hard hearts fell and cracked open. They began to experience the raw reality of stiffness against stiffness. Knocking against one another they suddenly objected to the consequences of such hardness of being. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%;">They had always lived together in the harmony of their mutual strong-mindedness. But as they broke against one another, brothers killing brothers, hearts in pieces, mixed up and mutilated; they learnt a lot about themselves. About the nature of rigidity. How it feels in all its force when the same rigid opinion is moving at the same cynical rate in the same grumpy direction, toward each other. The physics of the collision, the stress they brought upon themselves, left their ruptured physical statures with a trace of empathy. Adding a softness to their stiffness, the grieving caused to them by their own destructive thoughts. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%;">Some were transformed entirely into powder form. Being no longer abrasive and rockish but more fine, delicate and dusty. A few of them embraced this new illusive identity as dust. But for most it was a humiliating fate for such proud thinkers, rooted in structure and stability, to be reduced to powder and pebbles! </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%;">But the journey was symbolic. Through it they started to understand how each heart of stone was merely a reflection of their own heart of stone. Rocks reflecting rocks; minds mirroring minds. Then the rocks began to feel. To think through their feeling, to associate thought with feeling and being with thinking. They became conscious of their mind-making-matter and started observing the minds of trees, rivers, birds and breeze. They humbly turned like a child to its mother, to the more gentle harmonies within nature. Searching soulfully for the wisdom they needed on how to be a little more free in their thinking. For freedom they observed, is the highest form of wisdom indeed!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 150%;">And that is the story of how the stone came to desire the river. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-US">(Note: This is an isolated story about how one group of stones came to think about freedom. Other rocks do glorious jobs at creating foundations, adding structure, resilience and protection to the lives of many men. They teach man through their good example, about strength and duty, hard work and steadfast, whole mindedness. They are masculine and usually very reliable. These types of rocks, through the ‘luck’ of their selection to aid man are also on the evolutionary road to Self Realisation. They are good and useful energy as it manifests itself in the qualities of stone. )</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-36087787666992205932010-10-28T10:06:00.001+11:002010-10-28T10:07:24.364+11:00No 'think' - just 'be'.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRS6qiEpdKnSEQTwFnkBKqMiekt_isAVWDSvAtIrQCMCuvf_XRkWCp0djoQeR4KWYVAho_xw6h2lvi4INm8iKgTxiiQZXJu4M9a36taAlrIw1orZ9Qn4XIy659A1IRXsJPjgh0BmKsv9c/s1600/6a00e00992ac3d8833010535f96d66970c-800wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRS6qiEpdKnSEQTwFnkBKqMiekt_isAVWDSvAtIrQCMCuvf_XRkWCp0djoQeR4KWYVAho_xw6h2lvi4INm8iKgTxiiQZXJu4M9a36taAlrIw1orZ9Qn4XIy659A1IRXsJPjgh0BmKsv9c/s640/6a00e00992ac3d8833010535f96d66970c-800wi.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-67436332432167921192010-10-26T14:06:00.002+11:002010-10-26T15:10:11.910+11:00Modelling Meaning...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOydmR7MxqpvmYh3A-8Wk3EnfJxEIgAxF-o4M5bgduZsvcyMafSzJU83ZtLF37T8l9CdpyBCLNam-mIOH9ivdvOJ_48IZYDds8Mcsmbh9cLDj66vRerovGoKCmOl250r_NMJgoT0VBi8/s1600/materiaprima+is005black.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOydmR7MxqpvmYh3A-8Wk3EnfJxEIgAxF-o4M5bgduZsvcyMafSzJU83ZtLF37T8l9CdpyBCLNam-mIOH9ivdvOJ_48IZYDds8Mcsmbh9cLDj66vRerovGoKCmOl250r_NMJgoT0VBi8/s640/materiaprima+is005black.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguLV-4M4799OHqiKNwRjBahin7DV-sPE1rE8lucosI23zbCycToNEYjSUcOiGU-QB3u4CvsS9ci8vsWIbCDah_XQvh5bUkS2wV9NEjr0pnjuy3Ht6_YRivhebPZhovlpj0E9OerJ4O-4w/s1600/materiaprima-is005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">_____________________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicfKxpZ4or73UH3Kfo_-CMbQdjiEsw9QsIdMgtlN5plMPv_pUyzwS9xgz_LrG4IO-CE_tpeLDMcpyfmT7ec7idDdk3GmXaLRK7j76X_wOH7G3JFo-L6JVwd5xgjCsWPfLeykigKI4Bvx0/s1600/somethingnothing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicfKxpZ4or73UH3Kfo_-CMbQdjiEsw9QsIdMgtlN5plMPv_pUyzwS9xgz_LrG4IO-CE_tpeLDMcpyfmT7ec7idDdk3GmXaLRK7j76X_wOH7G3JFo-L6JVwd5xgjCsWPfLeykigKI4Bvx0/s1600/somethingnothing.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">__________________</div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-4587599604174264182010-10-25T12:38:00.005+11:002012-02-14T08:21:44.974+11:00A seemingly solid surface - Materia Prima<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<u>The following images represent: </u></div>
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- A single moment in time. </div>
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- Potentiality. </div>
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- How matter is formed and presented to us.</div>
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- Human interactions, cause and effect.</div>
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- The mapping of a single thought firing and creating more thoughts.</div>
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<img border="0" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir1hTwWQbbbvdl8ONUroakNIg3NZN5GHTmW5MEMk13Jdr0CnDuhguj7yJEaoWqpUF7WCxjfNCWFrtV9BQFn1BZ8TS_sNqS20ebgytmi06exgxwgafPoNX75ZaGkY2d5I2mMQGRCfNe_2I/s640/bumpdiagram003.jpg" width="640" /> </div>
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(1 million (or so) x magnification on the activity taking place within our concrete world)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQv7e1IO-rh0MvRQAu_uiIoj1kIOschrzD5iOJaoqtJYHxwQ6Z0zr1YAdMAVLU2VAxlicK2nbM8c3yO4i3DYUP7R6eeYDTDs10H2GjFY_L3TbkBL2-A3o-VPps3USWoIbSIxjSGtfQOc/s1600/fabric.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQv7e1IO-rh0MvRQAu_uiIoj1kIOschrzD5iOJaoqtJYHxwQ6Z0zr1YAdMAVLU2VAxlicK2nbM8c3yO4i3DYUP7R6eeYDTDs10H2GjFY_L3TbkBL2-A3o-VPps3USWoIbSIxjSGtfQOc/s640/fabric.jpg" width="612" /></a></div>
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The fabric of our world: </div>
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of human interactions and appearance of all things material.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbJToTgLEoj2fvA4VX80Goms-C8kqZqMXs_vH8VrbcZnL_tgvEC5b3nXhdVqleyUJ9yXkHtfUZ0Y8kRlgxTpY_zzc0nkE_W3MtiRZ3xWipYSqBG28VQv443cFGIAGcC4LB3LXZQloDj0Y/s1600/fabric1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbJToTgLEoj2fvA4VX80Goms-C8kqZqMXs_vH8VrbcZnL_tgvEC5b3nXhdVqleyUJ9yXkHtfUZ0Y8kRlgxTpY_zzc0nkE_W3MtiRZ3xWipYSqBG28VQv443cFGIAGcC4LB3LXZQloDj0Y/s640/fabric1.jpg" width="628" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9mnWPGAnWU90wxC2HvxCWJmuIybsH3anzywXyGoq9FPsZbXG60SpeiY_gkTvEma_mwmiTrjOHDzTzCEheFX74vV65wSGmdpsG8iyQQeVf5Dr_u1zQTQf6tQAGbquan2HDBD4mno4VJ0/s1600/fabric2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9mnWPGAnWU90wxC2HvxCWJmuIybsH3anzywXyGoq9FPsZbXG60SpeiY_gkTvEma_mwmiTrjOHDzTzCEheFX74vV65wSGmdpsG8iyQQeVf5Dr_u1zQTQf6tQAGbquan2HDBD4mno4VJ0/s640/fabric2.jpg" width="564" /></a></div>
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We are fundamentally all just bumping particles, giving off the illusion of being solid </div>
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- Nothing is ever still. </div>
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Even concrete is constantly evolving.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWBB-PZHnjfpHZIBNoj-YJqTup9wXNNe3WYKaVMGW0NLXsBQz-2KKxE7AjBBgX-jZLganhSb1k1S0M_LXqctWlmHYS-80qkD3t56RPmM__SYXCEJYAuDuxVdGZxYxaFfY91uIvWgTWcrA/s1600/fabric3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWBB-PZHnjfpHZIBNoj-YJqTup9wXNNe3WYKaVMGW0NLXsBQz-2KKxE7AjBBgX-jZLganhSb1k1S0M_LXqctWlmHYS-80qkD3t56RPmM__SYXCEJYAuDuxVdGZxYxaFfY91uIvWgTWcrA/s640/fabric3.jpg" width="558" /></a></div>
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As particles engage with, bump-up against and respond to the energy that surrounds them, patterns are formed, matter is formed, a surface appearance is formed; relationships-between-things - are formed!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiOwdXVIPuEE6N0vxkYmfwKaIqtPzR3hrAWTpeLWblhsM1HpocZy4RQd4qYCNBgxEixvbjg5vMPgFX0_DLOcMzRtg8v_MlKwWGB4sHQZ6bpOarV9WRUcnPye2VbCm-vLaYfsxE_QA4kXg/s1600/fabric4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiOwdXVIPuEE6N0vxkYmfwKaIqtPzR3hrAWTpeLWblhsM1HpocZy4RQd4qYCNBgxEixvbjg5vMPgFX0_DLOcMzRtg8v_MlKwWGB4sHQZ6bpOarV9WRUcnPye2VbCm-vLaYfsxE_QA4kXg/s640/fabric4.jpg" width="552" /> </a></div>
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But really, it is still only the space between these interactions that permit anything to be here at all.</div>
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The space holding things together, creating definition, framing... </div>
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- A concrete illusion - </div>
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________________________ </div>
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nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing <b>something</b> nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing... etc. etc.</div>
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</div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-66427228611353595722010-10-19T14:46:00.000+11:002010-10-19T14:46:38.927+11:00Ouroboros<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGIZYLByODcQvBB3gHLsq3glGTdOSTX1Wq5fuPRX0zVS9Mz3j7Y-f2JNmSNAouKman7riYCNrqYWbljMfmamRmJP36xD0amMTIKHh8vibIvzCRXZtglLMPqjNJLD520inGs5H-pc5ja5A/s1600/threadknot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGIZYLByODcQvBB3gHLsq3glGTdOSTX1Wq5fuPRX0zVS9Mz3j7Y-f2JNmSNAouKman7riYCNrqYWbljMfmamRmJP36xD0amMTIKHh8vibIvzCRXZtglLMPqjNJLD520inGs5H-pc5ja5A/s640/threadknot.jpg" width="464" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitkda-EkYrR0WN9JHRtvSZ7IIr6D7G1quj8D5jQYA3F5w3Js9i_o3QgDWacTAX7FPk2CecZ2QvZy1QgLlWlMOQu24Wdc1-wTEw1V52MLNj_QatmTmzj6zA1F6UkivUJUI8AicLB3Vm2EM/s1600/threadoflife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitkda-EkYrR0WN9JHRtvSZ7IIr6D7G1quj8D5jQYA3F5w3Js9i_o3QgDWacTAX7FPk2CecZ2QvZy1QgLlWlMOQu24Wdc1-wTEw1V52MLNj_QatmTmzj6zA1F6UkivUJUI8AicLB3Vm2EM/s640/threadoflife.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-26352499300675283632010-10-18T22:50:00.002+11:002012-02-14T08:17:05.226+11:00Becoming 'Other' - Materia Prima<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FOZ6KnVPvIU?fs=1&hl=en_US">
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<embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FOZ6KnVPvIU?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br />
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The Pilobolus Dance Theater performing 'Symbiosis'.</div>
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> watch full screen for full goodness <</div>
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<i>'We carry in us traces of every conceivable form of human experience since the creation of heaven and earth. So not only does our imagination draw on what we've experienced in our personal trajectories through life; it also feeds on those countless generations that preceded us. <b>Our expressive range is not confined to a human dimension.</b> It also embraces those of fishes, plants, and amphibians. Even that gush of freedom we once felt soaring through the sky is stored in there.'</i></div>
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<i>'Remember we evolve constantly... by surmounting self-imposed constraints, we can transform ourselves. Just in the same way that a butterfly finally breaks out of its cocoon and transforms itself into a free spirit, so too, can you traverse the pupal-like phase in which you are now confined. <b>In performance, our capacity to transform ourselves is truly critical</b>.'</i> - Kazuo Ohno.</div>
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Of all types of self-relational mediums, there are very few that open up the conversation about ways of 'becoming' more than dance. As bodies physically replicate their surroundings, objects, elements, animals, electricity, death, birth, confusion, anticipation, and transformation into an ongoing array of things. I am continuously taken with this concept of 'potentiality'. The ways in which we can truly become 'Other'.</div>
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There is the potential <i>to</i> become, and the potential regarding the endless array of possibilities of <i>what</i> to become. The human ability to empathise, to materialise, transcend boundaries, and become amorphous potential beings; THIS is why we create. To exist as 'Other, live <i>through</i> the process, and engage with life on a primary level. To exist as maker, the making, and the made.</div>
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The dancers articulate this kind of understanding through their bodies. They penetrate into a boundless world through Mimesis, through imitation of the way grass moves in the wind, the way a flower blooms, the stillness of wood, hardness of rock, the melting of wax, the violence of the ocean. They appear to enter the minds, or rather the souls of their subjects so convincingly that upon viewing you genuinely feel you are watching the original act itself. In essence you are, as they truly believe what they have become. And belief is the what we base all concrete facts upon.</div>
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_________________________</div>
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<i>'We love to look at a flower in bloom, for we ourselves become one in doing so. For the living, 'to see' amounts to the same thing as 'to eat'.</i> - Ohno.</div>
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To nourish ourselves through the eyes and through the skin. I feel this very same way about particular music. As it enters your body, through audible vibrations in air; it seems to engulf, possessing from both the inside and outside. You mediate with it and become it, lying as if stolen, in the intangible, non-place center of its momentous being. It creates a shell around you, a new body to temporarily reside within. Perhaps this is what they are referring to when they call it 'a body of music'. </div>
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The body of a song. To get in and wear. </div>
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__________________________</div>
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It's always with a decent rambling that one stumbles upon conclusions or findings of interest. I think it's absolutely essential to get lost within your own thoughts, as it seems only then that you discover foreign content in your own subjective world... There must be a sense of discovery within your own work. It is as much about exploration as it is creation. They are not separate things. </div>
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</div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-53590871082023640332010-10-18T19:55:00.000+11:002012-02-14T08:17:56.176+11:00NOW DOING!<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
In preparation for the performance Materia Prima, this space is now to become home for the thematic development of ideas, projections, and suggestions - to be more easily accessed by all involved. To submit public utterances of personal processes, this wall is to be a sounding board for potential material to evolve. Placed purely for the taking (or leaving), comb through the content as you please. Some thoughts materialise into tangible objects, some do not. It's just that you have to get them out, before they cause creative congestion.</div>
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I have still yet to rinse through a few more thesis tasks, they may or may not appear here. But action is happening on many a level.</div>
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DOING! DOING! DOING!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizrVsRiarhSNkK9McVB57wPoY2QHZQh8MYZfN0LitDCp7Q7QS97u5RsVEqdEQciFqkfbqJMGpNjX7rdgAFTiuGRFBm2xbBpz-why1FWZpMJyWjEK-Eu93m1EqKl4hbgFz9DKTaOSIpugc/s1600/materiaprimamoment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizrVsRiarhSNkK9McVB57wPoY2QHZQh8MYZfN0LitDCp7Q7QS97u5RsVEqdEQciFqkfbqJMGpNjX7rdgAFTiuGRFBm2xbBpz-why1FWZpMJyWjEK-Eu93m1EqKl4hbgFz9DKTaOSIpugc/s640/materiaprimamoment.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-27435064308859916022010-09-14T10:37:00.002+10:002010-09-25T11:08:05.836+10:00(of all happenings) - the thread<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QvCpPY_ISN4UE_LGKA5uCKzCoP7T_1UGaNkKP55kkx9Dr4mCCHapMmcyW9NpqlUm0yRAZ-9GB0glwUdiw6gPtbOQa_Oim_f1hPclOzhSnHVna2Mng5sm6KcHARRH9rfdFJVnZklZXDY/s1600/thread-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QvCpPY_ISN4UE_LGKA5uCKzCoP7T_1UGaNkKP55kkx9Dr4mCCHapMmcyW9NpqlUm0yRAZ-9GB0glwUdiw6gPtbOQa_Oim_f1hPclOzhSnHVna2Mng5sm6KcHARRH9rfdFJVnZklZXDY/s640/thread-2.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6ilEyMhPLrWTsa66M2w_gcsFyWkd1IkRDcGg_4mNMUEtgWOwQ1JO_3JbzIJREI7oLPVkQ-l18GOdS5Qq2ibaFLpbGTttbY8Vmz17obDiZaRQjTcOifiOIFWVd_t0wp1wi6wt6WsAuGk/s1600/thread.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6ilEyMhPLrWTsa66M2w_gcsFyWkd1IkRDcGg_4mNMUEtgWOwQ1JO_3JbzIJREI7oLPVkQ-l18GOdS5Qq2ibaFLpbGTttbY8Vmz17obDiZaRQjTcOifiOIFWVd_t0wp1wi6wt6WsAuGk/s640/thread.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-83481402970006054462010-09-13T18:49:00.000+10:002012-02-14T08:19:14.632+11:00The liquid language drips through their fingers...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>"... But the hands gestures run everywhere through language, in their most perfect purity precisely when man speaks by being silent..."</i> - M. Heidegger</span></div>
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Reflections (on touch).</div>
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Conversation: an exchange/ an interaction/ a communication between two or more/ the ideal form of communication...</div>
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Using the body's surface as the situation, the receiving-of and responding-to the information created through interaction. This exercise was conducted around an invitation. An invitation for two, to hold an intimate conversation between bodies. To converse as bodies, on bodies and through bodies, the liquid language was used as a metaphor for the engagement with a subject; a topic of conversation.</div>
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<u>To feel ones way through; the language of touch:</u></div>
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They start off clean; Un-touched.</div>
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Un-marked,</div>
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without words,</div>
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without record of any previous interaction;</div>
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a first greeting of sorts.</div>
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She primes the surface of his body in white,</div>
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a preparation coating for the things waiting to be said.</div>
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She splashes words in his face</div>
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...the language is spilt, </div>
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mixed-up,</div>
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a misunderstanding perhaps?</div>
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They experience the words as (physical) sensations,</div>
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being (rubbed in)</div>
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into the skin,</div>
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their meanings remain.</div>
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At times, the same thoughts are shared,</div>
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A unity.</div>
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A single hand and the dripping,</div>
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a transference of one idea to another,</div>
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a happy reception,</div>
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agreement.</div>
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The cleansing or erasing of previous sentences</div>
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- the white wash over stains.</div>
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Opinions changed,</div>
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a series of 'sorrys',</div>
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the re-writing of a new day</div>
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speaks over the top of the others.</div>
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And at times, language wasn't even used,</div>
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the topic of conversation being purely interaction.</div>
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And that,</div>
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being enough,</div>
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being big enough a conversation to sustain singularity,</div>
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together,</div>
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one.</div>
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Non-other than bodies.</div>
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Nothing being said,</div>
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except for what was being said from skin-to-skin.</div>
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These are reflections I feel should remain unstructured. They require 'a reading into'. The language perceived is sensorial. And so, rationalisation using (actual) words seems noncore. </div>
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For the purpose of thesis structuring, this 'doing' will lead into a chapter on the <i>conversation a designer must have with her/ his materials;</i> the need for <i>sensory engagement with the process</i> and the creation of <i>material metaphors.</i></div>
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This post marks the entrance of an inquiry into the relationship between bodies and ideas.<i> </i></div>
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<br /></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-80833360672984687062010-09-13T17:00:00.000+10:002010-09-13T17:00:25.804+10:00The structure of a story to come...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxDIm0V-0hwzhchSq1AH9lBcQ3hqvYVDx9mKT4Rimc_Q-VK7vFMy7FYt-15yhKBqHtfwQHNsIXaGS5peTPsmalmvd0hmWl2LeE-XO9G_PDkM4zwk706voBHel8QZ5_TGQG-7mmWC3s3YI/s1600/_structure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxDIm0V-0hwzhchSq1AH9lBcQ3hqvYVDx9mKT4Rimc_Q-VK7vFMy7FYt-15yhKBqHtfwQHNsIXaGS5peTPsmalmvd0hmWl2LeE-XO9G_PDkM4zwk706voBHel8QZ5_TGQG-7mmWC3s3YI/s640/_structure.jpg" width="446" /></a></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-36425245149768433802010-09-02T15:29:00.004+10:002012-02-14T08:19:40.407+11:00MAKE (a conversation) WITH (touch)<iframe frameborder="0" height="366" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/14627406?portrait=0&color=ffffff&loop=1" width="651"></iframe><br />
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Filmed by Peter Ryle</div>
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Featuring Crystal and Rowan</div>
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Edited by Yianni Warnock</div>
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Direction and concept by Kitty.</div>
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> it is suggested to watch as fullscreen/ high def. Thanks. <</div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-63056917375846636002010-08-06T15:23:00.003+10:002012-02-14T08:24:38.621+11:00Everything is Everything<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Courier; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SZnEa23MFOg&hl=en_US&fs=1">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Such is the thread of life: </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">"Winged like bees, </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">goes the thread,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">through the middle</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">of everything thats happening</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">and all that is to come,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">below the earth,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">through coal,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">above,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">through misery,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">with men,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">with you,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">with your people,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">goes the thread...</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">string it on your zither</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">and you will speak with the mouth</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">of mighty mountains,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">braid it,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">and it will be the rigging</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">of a ship,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">unwind it,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">hang it with messages,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">electrify it,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">expose it</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">to wind and weather,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">so that, straight again,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">in one long line it will wind</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span">around the world."</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(from an 'Ode to the Thread' by Pablo Neruda)</span></span></span></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-23726054536640199752010-06-30T11:33:00.001+10:002012-02-14T08:24:27.754+11:00The Age of Silence<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
A prelude to '<i>a conversation (with) touch'</i>...</div>
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"The first language humans had was gestures. There was nothing primitive about this language that flowed from peoples hands, nothing we say now that could not be said in the endless array of movements possible with the fine bones of the fingers and wrists. The gestures were complex and subtle, involving a delicacy of motion that has since been lost completely.</div>
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During the Age of Silence, people communicated more, not less. Basic survival demanded that the hands were almost never still, and so it was only during sleep (and sometimes not even then) that people were not saying something or other. <b>No distinction was made between the gestures of language and the gestures of life.</b> The labour of building a house, say, or preparing a meal was no less an expression than making a sign for <i>I love you</i> or <i>I feel serious. </i>When a hand was used to shield one's face when frightened by a loud noise something was being said, and when fingers were used to pick up what someone else had dropped something was being said; and even when the hands were at rest, that, too, was saying something. Naturally, there were misunderstandings. There were times when a finger might have been lifted to scratch a nose, and if casual eye contact was made with one's lover just then, the lover might accidentally take it be a gesture, not all dissimilar, for<i> Now I realise I was wrong to love you.</i> These mistakes were heart breaking. And yet, because people knew how easily they could happen, because they didn't go around with the illusion that they understood perfectly the things other people said, they were used to interrupting each other to ask if they'd understood correctly.</div>
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Sometimes these misunderstanding were even desirable, since they gave people a reason to say, <i>Forgive me, I was only scratching my nose. Of coarse I know I've always been right to love you. </i>Because of the frequency of these mistakes, over time the gesture for asking for forgiveness evolved into the simplest from. Just to open your palm was to say: Forgive me.</div>
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Aside from one exception, almost no record exists of this first language. The exception, on which all knowledge of the subject is based, is a collection of seventy-nine fossil gestures, prints of human hands frozen in midsentence and housed in a small museum in Buenos Aires. One holds the gesture for <i>Sometimes when the rain</i>, another for <i>After all these years, </i>another for <i>Was I wrong to love you?</i> They were found in Morocco in 1903 by Argentine doctor named Antonio de Biedma. He was hiking in the High Atlas Mountains when he discovered the cave where the seventy-nine gestures were pressed into the shale. He studied them for years without getting any closer to understanding, until one day, already suffering the fever of the dysentery that would kill him, he suddenly found himself able to decipher the meanings of the delicate motions of fist and finger trapped in stone. Soon afterwards he was taken to hospital in Fez, and as he lay dying his hands moved like birds forming a thousand gestures, dormant all those years.</div>
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If at large gatherings or parties, or around people with whom your feel distant, your hands sometimes hang awkwardly at the ends of your arms - if your find yourself at a loss for what to do with them, overcome with sadness that comes when you recognise the foreignness of your own body - its because your hands remember a time when division between mind and body, brain and heart, what's inside and what's outside, was so much <i>less.</i></div>
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It's not that we've forgotten the language of gestures entirely. The habit of moving our hands while we speak is left over from it. Clapping, pointing, giving the thumbs-up: all artifacts of ancient gestures. Holding hands, for example, is a way to remember how it feels to say nothing together. And at night, when it's too dark to see, we find it necessary to gesture on each other's bodies to make ourselves understood."</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Written by Nicole Krauss in <i>The History of Love.</i></span></div>
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</div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-91087913496317034502010-06-24T17:22:00.003+10:002012-02-14T08:37:11.700+11:00MAKE (a compliment) WITH (twigs)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1tos_TOsFVMQ1dlKlgazXxStChCo8H1f0V97nzs65gCuA2HF499h3BJqyxvn5JgvvTm9u5zMQ6R8vaQC_x3HkPJVADsJbjF5Uh73Pauo29_rSQJAyQzoOBJ_7W2lLhpXRl1RKd5bH1bQ/s1600/IMG_0090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1tos_TOsFVMQ1dlKlgazXxStChCo8H1f0V97nzs65gCuA2HF499h3BJqyxvn5JgvvTm9u5zMQ6R8vaQC_x3HkPJVADsJbjF5Uh73Pauo29_rSQJAyQzoOBJ_7W2lLhpXRl1RKd5bH1bQ/s640/IMG_0090.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">This exercise more or less turned into 'making-words-with-sticks'. Which more or less evolved into 'making-words-with-sticks-and-putting-them-back-up-trees'. Which, in essence, is still in keeping with the notion of a compliment. A compliment being something that you give. It is often encouraging, uplifting, insightful, positive, purposeful or personal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">As such, who would benefit or be complimented by a bunch of sticks more than the tree itself?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">It is a way of 'giving back' part of what you have taken, of saying 'thanks'. (?) Not only that, it also speaks of the balance between consumption and production - a concept that is so heavily ingrained in my current thinking that it keeps manifesting itself through everything I do. It is this balance between <i>'having'</i> and <i>'doing'</i>, <i>'using'</i> and <i>'replenishing'</i>, <i>'taking'</i> and '<i>giving'</i>. I think we all need to be more aware of these consuming energies in our lives, or at least that's what I was personally reminded of whilst doing this exercise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The act of a twig-making-compliment meant that it became a type of 'reflective conversation with the situation'</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(1)</span>, where the results appeared to 'talk-back' and a dialogue between medium and message became the focus of the inquiry. One could not ignore what the situation of 'making' was saying about the materials being used, and what the materials alone, were saying about the situation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">As the essence of this inquiry is to look precisely at <b>how we look</b>, how we <b>find</b> and how we <b>use </b>information and knowledge in and through the design process; my thinking has to be both backwards and forward moving in the same moment. Being both productive and reflective in equal amounts. In this case, it was the notion of 'taking' and 'giving' that informed the reflective theories generated from the twig-making-compliment exercise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I use the word <b>'rekindling'</b> to illustrate this process:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The sticks were discarded from the tree.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">The sticks were <i>taken </i>from the environment directly surrounding.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Their natural structure then became the medium in which letters were generated, a simple <i>re-purposing</i>.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Letters were joined to form the greater context of a word, being smaller parts of a bigger whole.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">The words in this same way, collaborated to form a sentence.</span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">The medium we are still working with is language, words, linguistics, common symbols, shapes that can be read. The sticks are the tangible material of this language. And so the exercise becomes less about the words and more about what the words mean when they come in the form of another object. What the material, in itself, is saying.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is the essence of a metaphor: using the qualities of something <i>else</i> to describe or gain insight into a more intangible concept. Using metaphor as a <i>way of entering</i> a subject.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">The sticks were items 'taken' from the world.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A compliment is something you 'give'. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> To give back something you have taken, </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> except in a different state from what it was originally, is <i>design.</i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixs8mDAhhdz3tSbKlDRcavPVvWZ1iN3cV0WnN0cZ_z4hyphenhyphenes9y_MZvaDyhdr4OTVbs8-YTICw_6xSmllz-O6N0Nu9uWuKdbNgrBpwoAIBRf-X4232LAzC6Dis9zmDYSHd_ehgB5Yuuj9CE/s1600/Untitled-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixs8mDAhhdz3tSbKlDRcavPVvWZ1iN3cV0WnN0cZ_z4hyphenhyphenes9y_MZvaDyhdr4OTVbs8-YTICw_6xSmllz-O6N0Nu9uWuKdbNgrBpwoAIBRf-X4232LAzC6Dis9zmDYSHd_ehgB5Yuuj9CE/s640/Untitled-1.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp15GDBvlZAVhspHgqYJyUAX44OGd725IIZW6I0U1nah0tDFc4zakrSPfrOLzKgrf0fUHxlfQUFEhTa4RVO7vl6cqIoIt5-YZE5JjQNzywVBKBGErPK6btdwTzLP7JqjgZm0QxDJpa65Y/s1600/useupgiveback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp15GDBvlZAVhspHgqYJyUAX44OGd725IIZW6I0U1nah0tDFc4zakrSPfrOLzKgrf0fUHxlfQUFEhTa4RVO7vl6cqIoIt5-YZE5JjQNzywVBKBGErPK6btdwTzLP7JqjgZm0QxDJpa65Y/s640/useupgiveback.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PKIWIvMeORi1LlX781EtNHpsmxdvnV9WyOR7NjIIVKXtw90oxapk7impMLrj9sEteYIlyDroeDN0nwkRkz7PQsBn9Z_L33Ei0pUw0gp42Ci64mueu39W4V9YrZ38Jxy_ExBpcJRP49g/s1600/IMG_0155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PKIWIvMeORi1LlX781EtNHpsmxdvnV9WyOR7NjIIVKXtw90oxapk7impMLrj9sEteYIlyDroeDN0nwkRkz7PQsBn9Z_L33Ei0pUw0gp42Ci64mueu39W4V9YrZ38Jxy_ExBpcJRP49g/s640/IMG_0155.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The twigs were then left in the tree, re-kindled and re-purposed.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(1) Schon,D, <i>The Reflective Practitioner</i>, Chapter 3 - 'Design as a Reflective Conversation with the Situation'.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span></span>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-7765005656577744052010-06-21T15:08:00.006+10:002012-02-14T08:37:50.144+11:00Make / With<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<b> "A mans power to connect his thought with its proper symbol, and so utter it."</b> <span style="font-size: x-small;">R.W.E</span></div>
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<i>Make/ With</i> is the first of a series of 'doings'. Generating modes of entering, engaging and responding to theory, it becomes a way of mediating by way of making. A way of looking both inwards and outwards simultaneously by engaging with both tangible and intangible worlds.</div>
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The world of appearances, materials, symbols, things,</div>
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the world in which we,</div>
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as intangible beings,</div>
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exist. </div>
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And the world of thought,</div>
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feelings and attractions, instincts and nuances.</div>
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And how the two feed into one another. </div>
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We use the outer/ exterior world to embellish and articulate the invisible laws that construct the essence of life. Or rather, the intangible becomes tangible through the manifestation of an embodied symbol. We use this materiality to converse with, to engage with the spiritual truths that inform the appearance of life.</div>
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The world is but a language.</div>
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<i>"It is not only words that emblematic; it is Things which are emblematic.</i></div>
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<i> Every natural fact is a symbol of some spiritual fact. Every appearance in nature corresponds to some state of mind, and that state of mind can only be described by presenting that natural appearance as its picture.</i></div>
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<i>An enraged man is a lion, a cunning man is a fox, a firm man is a rock, and a learned man a torch. A lamb is innocence; a snake is subtle spite; and flowers express to us delicate affections... Man is an analogist, as he studies relations in all objects."</i> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays on Language and Nature, 1836</span></div>
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Using this study of relations between material facts and symbolic facts, the exercise unfolds as follows.</div>
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<b>Assignment: </b></div>
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- Draw up a list of intangible concepts or ideas (for e.g. Purity). This must be autonomous, flowing freely from your immediate memory.</div>
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- Draw up another list alongside the first intangibles, quickly using simple associative linkages, list a tangible material that could be used to metaphorically represent/ reproduce these ideas or concepts in more concrete form ( for e.g. Purity = the colour white).</div>
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- Cut up one of the lists and place the ingredients in <a href="http://furnishingtheself.blogspot.com/2010/05/on-posing-perfect-question-or-how-to.html"><i>the box of chance</i></a>.</div>
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- Draw out one tangible per intangible. Place the words alongside one another, creating a new list of pairs. They will/ should be completely dissociated, the more awkward the better.</div>
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- Select a handful and attempt to <b>make </b>(the intangible) <b>with</b> (the tangible).</div>
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P.s. I would absolutely LOVE it if anyone had the time to do Make/ With. It would be really interesting to see a variety of responses to this exercise. Please contact me if you want to participate and I'll send you a tangible/ intangible to make... x</div>
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</div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-70209647333982008332010-06-03T18:53:00.002+10:002012-02-14T08:38:22.525+11:00For Rose: On wearing a sense of 'self'<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
Read the red. Hope you can make sense of it. Let me know if my scrawlings are impossible to interpret. x</div>
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</div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-16628981389669760622010-06-02T14:09:00.002+10:002010-06-22T17:48:00.519+10:00Absolute doings<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jurnQIe1yYg&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jurnQIe1yYg&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-53005187465965373632010-05-31T23:42:00.000+10:002010-05-31T23:42:15.743+10:00Extractions and siftings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLuLUTMnRTb1fTCmay9C-a4G6tlHm3XPnSunq40BxtY_M1fmsxTKodNxBdyBWleeVW8H7QbzMcY5tn917g2_zuQ4jOTb6KSWjj3vuIbDGD-RWvL1cn3_dlVmomFFvJ244A4LX6AQNUdx8/s1600/extractions-post-1st.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLuLUTMnRTb1fTCmay9C-a4G6tlHm3XPnSunq40BxtY_M1fmsxTKodNxBdyBWleeVW8H7QbzMcY5tn917g2_zuQ4jOTb6KSWjj3vuIbDGD-RWvL1cn3_dlVmomFFvJ244A4LX6AQNUdx8/s640/extractions-post-1st.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1g6vjzj1QJMRuidD5TAtnuJQzBXY_hP-KirNbNZwLwMLXNFGqkGETEOd_zUZhSoeSSieAd3zD-LXhBs-gd1scOnXDWLPghy5a1ZP1T-lXkSNBSviawifiJssipN9Yo04dbvfCJxB45vY/s1600/extractions-post-2nd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1g6vjzj1QJMRuidD5TAtnuJQzBXY_hP-KirNbNZwLwMLXNFGqkGETEOd_zUZhSoeSSieAd3zD-LXhBs-gd1scOnXDWLPghy5a1ZP1T-lXkSNBSviawifiJssipN9Yo04dbvfCJxB45vY/s640/extractions-post-2nd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBmztKfNmWrSWd2J5ZTEnke1nGvD1Pm-WJ3MCIXm0qDxdz8Jqbwz2yZaZ6ZLBb95FQpaTSgZfABnQl5I64O2FAUmyM69Sh13vKcAWmk-9ITORKnMP_a5v1c0hk1GPRNCgUS4_2XfZdjm0/s1600/extractions-post-toes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="532" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBmztKfNmWrSWd2J5ZTEnke1nGvD1Pm-WJ3MCIXm0qDxdz8Jqbwz2yZaZ6ZLBb95FQpaTSgZfABnQl5I64O2FAUmyM69Sh13vKcAWmk-9ITORKnMP_a5v1c0hk1GPRNCgUS4_2XfZdjm0/s640/extractions-post-toes.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfIk9Yg-tdjqgtBbwVIR7M1dvW_agy3K-PuBFIrPgBH5SmjVteWQORMdc4Z1Z8jBsxA3KyG6UGu5nU6F-EeHcpZeHJ5kcrNMsa1L78zB2iIRsJzZqQ6LTOsXM4yXNxdk0-BP64ZDS5tC4/s1600/extractions-post-wheel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfIk9Yg-tdjqgtBbwVIR7M1dvW_agy3K-PuBFIrPgBH5SmjVteWQORMdc4Z1Z8jBsxA3KyG6UGu5nU6F-EeHcpZeHJ5kcrNMsa1L78zB2iIRsJzZqQ6LTOsXM4yXNxdk0-BP64ZDS5tC4/s640/extractions-post-wheel.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihm-3Z3U1MuwryRUelccq7GeedymrV5yq-zAKFHodQ0Vy9CidBtpx6fAjqTP7xQq7BcCJ9wEF2PlAZNGQRjpzeSestZcRfrEBp0cOq3oI-0Gx7M33_w8a-wXzGgkhdSPkAIyuG0uasqHo/s1600/extractions-post-book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="532" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihm-3Z3U1MuwryRUelccq7GeedymrV5yq-zAKFHodQ0Vy9CidBtpx6fAjqTP7xQq7BcCJ9wEF2PlAZNGQRjpzeSestZcRfrEBp0cOq3oI-0Gx7M33_w8a-wXzGgkhdSPkAIyuG0uasqHo/s640/extractions-post-book.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYDtl62Zicdb-sGTuPd2Ekx0XjPChQcZcQ7ReR4LX6Z3Qn6_-EELrxf2YQcxUYD_1tl1jqDmkLcer6VePrx86aL4nHxsEtSnnIZr69JZHMOco1uhz7DhTsqImvnydwrLpVfl8tF71-bx8/s1600/extractions-post-eye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYDtl62Zicdb-sGTuPd2Ekx0XjPChQcZcQ7ReR4LX6Z3Qn6_-EELrxf2YQcxUYD_1tl1jqDmkLcer6VePrx86aL4nHxsEtSnnIZr69JZHMOco1uhz7DhTsqImvnydwrLpVfl8tF71-bx8/s640/extractions-post-eye.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7U7FE5QORGpLBPLLwPgSa5qyfIyEj2tmmjtO4IZ8ROIvcbG38_Sj55yVfm-rsoxEmOUWbMPMpaVwkp73jT0ddLe9Vrnthn9OmmBwaunc46wnTZaUhkWqBDtHF0WP4htUlD6ZztzA4Nwg/s1600/extractions-post-skin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7U7FE5QORGpLBPLLwPgSa5qyfIyEj2tmmjtO4IZ8ROIvcbG38_Sj55yVfm-rsoxEmOUWbMPMpaVwkp73jT0ddLe9Vrnthn9OmmBwaunc46wnTZaUhkWqBDtHF0WP4htUlD6ZztzA4Nwg/s640/extractions-post-skin.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR9-9S9IukbgP0Ig_LskffFVEWbIFQIVeVF3LSfGNUCVMtK_d9_Wlj_nEA4MaBDZxiRAO9J218JH_LMGh8soxqdEBODaLoNQToJKlbkyjfbUM0SWy2mM2RYj32dvyxVMGqITfajpuyoIY/s1600/extractions-post-next-to-last.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR9-9S9IukbgP0Ig_LskffFVEWbIFQIVeVF3LSfGNUCVMtK_d9_Wlj_nEA4MaBDZxiRAO9J218JH_LMGh8soxqdEBODaLoNQToJKlbkyjfbUM0SWy2mM2RYj32dvyxVMGqITfajpuyoIY/s640/extractions-post-next-to-last.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4SNx1RdUCXeKmvSUtuQREg7Cc4lifnyNza0yS_neOGVSKHLI2nAr0XZ5KTF9r0d8BsAU7xkzN8y-7eFQOOBf3dsf9VTeXKuZnNLmK6OYJMO9Jwg8Scdcs3EH_Gb0orUqcNAG-bv48ZQY/s1600/extractions-post-last.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4SNx1RdUCXeKmvSUtuQREg7Cc4lifnyNza0yS_neOGVSKHLI2nAr0XZ5KTF9r0d8BsAU7xkzN8y-7eFQOOBf3dsf9VTeXKuZnNLmK6OYJMO9Jwg8Scdcs3EH_Gb0orUqcNAG-bv48ZQY/s640/extractions-post-last.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">All extracts from:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> <i>The Medium is the Massage</i>, Marshall McLuhan Quentin Fiore, </span>1967Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-26289559142139016632010-05-31T19:35:00.000+10:002010-05-31T19:35:26.591+10:00'Use up but give back'.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-phBjQj-fw7bGuGhEtGnF2ifJ2zNExNOkqOQBgGgf_BRl2jJQ5uv4DvRym6-wDcveRyf2aoa_83QvbB712Nl6z10L4bAQEEfStZ-OTsXovb9r5W8VgB9IjcOO3cCR81-7QKM7gJ94cs/s1600/use-up-but-give-back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-phBjQj-fw7bGuGhEtGnF2ifJ2zNExNOkqOQBgGgf_BRl2jJQ5uv4DvRym6-wDcveRyf2aoa_83QvbB712Nl6z10L4bAQEEfStZ-OTsXovb9r5W8VgB9IjcOO3cCR81-7QKM7gJ94cs/s640/use-up-but-give-back.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16732984875306144735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282064783340632250.post-84671406129918373272010-05-27T14:19:00.000+10:002012-02-14T08:38:45.388+11:00Some pictures to breathe on.<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
I am feeling the need for a breather. Perhaps a little holiday. These are from around my home/ life. I feel lucky to be surrounded by such lovely things. </div>
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