This is not about connectivity or the web, but about being so open that your whole life is a full on sensual conversation with the whole world. For those of us who use the language of words, we usually refer to this as “autism.” But find about ten minutes where you can have some quiet and reflective time to yourself and watch this video: In My Language
This is perhaps the most profound elucidation I have ever experienced of what sensing is. When you have finished watching the video go to Amanda’s blog where you can read her further thoughts on autistic liberation. And while you are there, copy the definition of freedom in the top left hand corner, print it out and post it on your refrigerator:
free ·dom /fre ´edÉ™m/ n. release or rescue from being physically bound, or from being confined, enslaved, captured, or imprisoned [Old English freo. Ultimately from an Indo-European word meaning “dear, beloved,” which is also the ancestor of English friend.]
I am moved deeply by this.
Update: Amanda – who goes by the nickname silentmiaow – has joined the incredible discussion at MetaFilter
[tags]autism, freedom, autistic liberation[/tags]
“One does not become enlightened
by imagining light,
but by making the darkness conscious.”
– C.G. Jung
Photo by flyzipper
Working with groups, I sometimes experience a kind of stillness where I think people become more present to that subtler and deeper sense of connection and belonging. It’s the sort of silence that transcends the efforts of efficiency experts.
The above is a photo of a rock I balanced on the rim of the crater of Halekala on Maui last week. I think this captures something of what Johnnie is talk about.
(more of my rock balancing efforts here)
Just back from Maui, quickly becoming one of my favourite places on earth next to the little Pacific island I live on. Two weeks gloriously unplugged, so out of touch that my mother in law had to phone us from Vancouver to pass on a tsunami warning last week. I spent the fortnight boogie bording at beaches like this one – kamaole Beach in Kihei – as well as getting hosted by a myriad of fish on the near shore coral reefs at Ulua Beach, Keawakapu and Ka’anapali. I picked up a boatload of music, mostly slack key guitar stuff and some traditional mele chants (a great album from Charles Kau’upa). We ate great food, fesh pineapple and papaya, coconut candy and taro chips and bannafruit crisps and one of my world to-die-for foods, an ahi fish taco from Maui Tacos. We headed up to the crater of Haleakala on a clear, spotless afternoon, in contrast from the socked in visit last year. I’ll post up a few photos soon.
I was incredibly fatigued after the stretch of travel and work last fall and i’m bracing for an even heavier schedule this winter and spring. But for now, i’m back to an impending snowstorm here in Canada’s southernmost fjord, relaxed, a little tanned and ready to go.
Photo by Weave
This is a dark time of year, and the light is returning. It is a time for rebirth.
My friend Finn Voldtofte died last night. He was well known in the world cafe community as well as in communities of practice in Europe looking at collective intellegence. He was an early designer of the Art of Hosting and the flow game.
Finn was with us here on Bowen Island in November at a gathering we held looking at conscious evolution. He was sick while he was here, and upon returning home he discovered that he had pnuemonia and leukemia. Back in Denmark, doctors attempted to treat both, but they were unable to handle his infections in a way that allowed the treatment of his cancer.
He died with the most amazing grace and with a community of people around the world holding to his request to let him do his work to be free. I have never seen anyone die like Finn did; even from a distance his dying touched us very deeply and was a profound reminder of the power of practice and liberation and how one strong and courageous heart can touch and transform many.
And so I offerthis image of a sun behind a fir tree I shot last year and this song, that is about the choices we have to step into the new and deep world, whatever it may be. We sang this song for our closing at our gathering in November, and it feels as if Finn embodies this sentiment unlike any man I have ever met.
One stormy spring day
As I rambled at the Cape
And gazed out to the ocean
Where the seals sport and play.
From the sea foam and spray
There arose a fair maid
As she stepped on the rocky shore
To me she did say:Oh the old world is dying, and the new is yet to come.
Oh the old world is dying, and the new is yet to come.Her gaze met my eye
And she began to cry
And her keening stilled the south wind
In the far distant sky
Said she “Sir, you stand
Firmly rooted on this land
I appeal to your true heart
Will you give me your hand?”For the old world is dying, and the new is yet to come
For the old world is dying, and the new is yet to comeThe wind died away
And the sea foam and the spray
Took back the fair maiden
At the end of the day
In a grove of old fir
I felt my heart a-stir
To respond to her calling
And devote my life to herFor the old world is dying, and the new is yet to come
For the old world is dying, and the new is yet to come
This is a time of year for rebirth in the northern hemisphere. And so I wish peace at the end of the transformation for Finn, his children and his partner Tina and all who are deeply touched by the stories and examples of new birth, hope and light that permeate the cultures of northern peoples at mid-winter.