Chris Corrigan

A quote from DH Lawrence in relation to what Lost is really about:

We cannot bear connection. That is our malady. We must break away, and be isolate. We call that being free, being individual. Beyond a certain point, which we have reached, it is suicide. Perhaps we have chosen suicide. Well and good. The Apocalypse too chose suicide, with subsequent self-glorification… my individualism is really an illusion. I am a part of the great whole, and I can never escape. But I can deny my connections, break them, and become a fragment. Then I am wretched.

via What the Lost Finale is Really About | Religion Dispatches.

It has become a standard practice for me now to make a slam poem from the words of opening or closing circles, as a way to reflect to a group something of it’s wholeness. These poems are completely improvised, using the words of the participants as material. There is a lot of reincorporation of people’s words in these poems which makes for a lovely reminder when I read it out and participants shift their awareness around the circle

A poem I wrote at the end of the Open Space for Transition Nelson. One of our participants brought her two chickens to the event to look after them while she was away from her house. On day two the chickens escaped, which explains one of the lines in this piece.

Practicality, courage

Where's the agenda?

Appreciative thanks

amazed it didn't tank

This scenario is a dream and it seems that

whatever happened, happened.

Woooo….

Gratitude is the attitude of rebirth

A reenergized connection, soft walk on the earth

Want to pass a torch but also linger on the porch of this

new house created by friendship

and the magic in the talk…

We gonna rock…

I'm already looking younger, cultivating the hunger

for transitioning, repositioning,

gestating and relating, digesting and reflecting

seeing what is born this morning

feeling what is important to raise

in these days of unity, community, in what is bigger than me.

I'm new to this place

but what a face you wear –

a community of angels who care.

It's open and I'm curious to see where it goes,

two feet, ten toes

I don't know, but somebody knows

and I feel direction, infection

a virus of creative work

the explosion of potential that stars from a spark,

light sparkling in the dark.

Thanks to the angels and the bees

and all that frees us to fly, respond to the calling

pick up those that are falling

and send them back in the air.

I'm more connected than ever before

walked through a door to a store full of knowledge and inspiration

full of awe at the creation of what's going on –

knowing that together I can be strong enough

to live off the grid, draw on my own power,

this is the hour!

Even the chickens have become free!

It's hard to do this alone,

to clear a field full of stones,

to live a peace that is co-owned

bring a bell to the young,

three deep breaths,

words that rest lightly on the tongue

and hold the terror of action,

the commitment to a fraction of change

to a group that can rearrange the best of what we have –

time, ideas, muffins –

strange resources for a movement, but sustenance is a must for sustainability

so that's good.

So in the shadows of locally hewn wood

in a place free of shoulds,

I acknowledge the work we have done

and the potential of what is to come

life springing from ash,

passion leading to action,

a rekindled fire that burns off

guilt and fear.

Inspired –

our future starts here.

via The poem of our closing – Transition Nelson.

Been too busy to read the feed lately, but here’s some stuff:

Dave Snowdon argues for data over information.
whiskey river posts a little something that Dave might therefore appreciate.
WFMU shares some really interesting older progressive music sounds.

And for your further listening pleasure: Steve Mason – All Come Down from Said the Gramaphone…very nice mellow tune.

My twitter friend Durga pointed me to this article from Euan The Potter.on the Japanese aesthetic concept of “Wabi sabi”

Etymologically, “Wabi sabi” is based on the root forms of two adjectives, both of which are generally translated as “Lonely”. “Wabishii” however focuses on the object which is lonely, where as “Sabishii” focuses on the absence which makes the object lonely. The principal of “Wabi sabi” is therefore; Beauty reduced to its simplest form, and that form brought to a peak of focus by its relationship with the space in which it exists. That is to say, the presence of an object and the presence of the space interacting to strengthen each other.

The idea that space has presence is not new. Two and a half thousand years ago the Greek philosopher Parmenides proposed that it is impossible for anything which exists to conceive of anything which does not exist and that therefore even the space between objects “exists”. This remains in modern English as the concept that “I have nothing”. In Japanese however, it is grammatically impossible for “Nothing” (Nanimo) to exist (aru). “Nothing” (Nanimo) must be followed by “Is not” (nai). The idea of the presence of a space was therefore revolutionary.

To take it one step further, a tea bowl, being a vessel, is defined by the space it contains. It is not the pot which is important, but the space. In the tea bowl it is therefore possible to have the object (Wabi) and the space (Sabi) interacting within the same pot.

I think it is fair to say that, as in the art of tea, the art of hosting works with this idea to create both containers and spaces that provide the conditions for generative activity. It’s an elusive concept, the idea of creating beauty from things that aren’t really there, but that is why we call it an art, and when it comes off well, you can feel the strength of a well held container and the quality of the enclosed space.

A poem by Ralph Copleman a longtime Open Space practitioner, posted this week on the OSLILST

The Days of Now

On the night before Now

we all clambored over

and greeted each other by the gateway.

Now came the first morning.

We opened for each other many conversations

and passed cups around the shining circle.

On the second of Now,

I could see a long way in people’s eyes

which cleared to let in the light.

On the third of Now,

everyone started dialing up tomorrows,

released laughter and embraced

every future Now with braided voices

and sweat-slicked arms.

Each night Now the sky

came down to join us,

like an animal testing the scents.

On the fourth of Now

we saw magic inside ourselves

and blew gently the embers in each other.

On the fifth day Now transformed

into pieces of hours and sounds.

There was baying and mirth

and sweet fresh rubbing of skin on skin.

The sixth of Now saw us

plain and fearful, thrilled and drawn

to each other in new forever dreams.

On the seventh of Now

we redrew all our lines,

filled all the hollows, as Now expected.

At last the night Now

draped velvet and quiet

as hushed we prepared our ascent.

This night is that night Now.

It has unquenchable questions

and the same different beginning.

On top of morning Now

and all through evening Now

we waxed and shined the circle again

sipped each other’s songs

and touched old and new alike.

1 … 209 210 211 212 213 … 544

What the Lost Finale is Really About

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The poem of our closing – Transition Nelson

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The poem of our closing – Transition Nelson

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The Days of Now

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