if . . .

"Words stand between silence and silence: between the silence of things and the silence of our own being. Between the silence of the world and the silence of God. When we have really met and known the world in silence, words do not separate us from the world nor form other men, nor from God, nor from ourselves because we no longer trust entirely in language to contain reality. You are made in the image of what you desire. I am aware of the need for constant self-revision and growth, leaving behind the renunciations of yesterday and yet in continuity with all my yesterdays. For to cling to the past is to lose one's continuity with the past, since this means clinging to what is no longer there. My ideas are always changing, always moving around one center, and I am always seeing that center, and I am always seeing that center from somewhere else. Hence, I will always be accused of inconsistency. But I will no longer be there to hear the accusation." - Thomas Merton - See: A...

treetops outside the temple reach to caress each other neonerve end tendrils sensible to the years semblance articulating the season standstill partners breathing catalytic agents pause before your majestic grace honour your knowing return your gaze return your particular pathos return your caring - See: Image :: note :: . . . Happy Lunar New Year . . . nocturnorama . . .

oh the cunning primal history the monumental affinities the half concealed variegated traces the radical labyrinthine relations discursive , abandoned & intimate - See: Poetry :: note :: . . . too dark to see . . .

"The necessity for poetry is one of the most fundamental traits of the human race. But naturally we do not take that into account, any more than we take into account that dinner, and the next day again, dinner, is the condition of our remaining alive. Without poetry the soul and heart of man starves and dies. The only difference between them is that all men know, if they turn their minds to it, that without food they would die, and comparatively few people know that without poetry they would die. . . . Have I answered the question? I think I have. We should read poetry because only in that way can we know man in all his moods -- in the most beautiful thoughts of his heart, in his farthest reaches of imagination, in the tenderness of his love, in the nakedness and awe of his soul confronted with the terror and wonder of the Universe." (Critical Essays by Amy Lowell) - See: Education :: note :: . . . via manoverboard . . . why we should read poetry . . . the next essay examines...

"Too often, poverty is confused with passivity." ( COLORS ) - See: Politics

under the brilliant blue standing on the icewater swinging still water into flowing water we let go . . . empty . . . wash . . . walk on . . . dreams mingle in the delicate magic of possiblility where one never knows where the sly ice may open adventure - See: Poetry :: note :: . . . always beginning & ending be . . .

"Where have you been? Think of the first place you remember living. Think of the streets, pathways, bodies of water, train tracks and intersections that you remember. Try to remember the relationships of each. Find the farthest edges of each in your mind." (memorymapping - [ expandedfield.com ] ) - See: Terms :: note :: . . . always by a river . . . sand underneath foot . . . the opposite side rising towards an open expanse . . . ceaselessly changing sky . . . most often the calling of geese . . . to get to the river i must cross train tracks . . . the words of my mother warning "never cross the tracks". . . the water flows fast with a huge overgrown island in the middle . . . an iron bridge on one horizon & a concrete bridge on the other . . . a beaver swims silently by . . . the schoolyard is a couple of blocks behind me . . . i'm alone . .

"How do we learn the things we value most?" (EDN | Transformation: Stephen Downes and Will Richardson) - See: Terms

"Nine steps to living abundantly: . . . by seeking out the things and experiences that work for you in your core being . . . the more I give away the more I get back . . . being grateful . . . Resentment, jealousy, envy and self-pity interfere with the free-flow of abundance . . . forgiving . . . receiving generously . . . make things happen . . . Believing . . . " ( ManOverBoard: Nine steps to living abundantly ) - See: Quotes :: note :: . . . hmmm . . .

rose water in the life well. dip your hand to splash knowledge. wise eyes to seek crooked trees. play the moment always and forever. -See: Poetry

embrace instability by exposing the roots extract more explicit meaning by rendering enclosures do reveal the inner structure - See: Poetry

Teaching creates heart questions to live. Live heart questions to create teaching Heart questions to live create teaching Questions teach heart to create life. - See: Poetry :: note :: . . . hay(na)ku . . .

" 'Aura' is an elusive term for that which is elusive. . . 'Aura' is an unfathomable darkness, unbridgeable distance, unexpected reciprocity. As such, it combines both negative and positive moments. On the one hand, it is a form of obscurity and inscrutability, a murky residue on the cultic origins of the work of art; on the other, it is a source of 'melancholy, incomparable beauty', a moment of mutual recognition, a mnemonic device for the remembrance of the dead. "(Gilloch | Walter Benjamin Critical Constellations | Benjamin On-Air, Benjamin on Aura 177 ) :: note :: . . . the young & the younger bring tears to my eyes . . . weave space & time into dancingness and singingness says the wisest of all . . . goodnight you dear souls . . . let us dream . . .

"Pure conceiving is the basis of every work of art. And it is always directed at two features: at the ideas and at nature in the process of de-forming itself. This means that every work of art is grounded in the imagination. Perhaps, even probably, to varying degrees. However, imagination is always incapable of constructing a work of art because as a de-forming agent it must always refer to something formed beyond itself, which then, when it enters the work, must itself become of fundamental importance for the work. Whenever such a formed element does not enter the work but is kept at a distance from it, for reasons of sentiment, pathos, or irony, such works regard the world of forms as a text to which they provide a commentary or an arabesque. Because they point beyond themselves, they are no more pure works of art than are riddles." "The exact opposite of imagination is prophetic vision. Pure prophetic vision can not form the basis of a work, yet such vision enters int...

Traveller shadow figure you dance on the roof of the world beneath a rainbow on the wings of a condor Do you you hear the flowing water whispering blue beneath the ice? Love the questions for the living questions and the sighs & seeds of life visible & flowing on the surface are not obscene. "Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."(Rainer Maria Rilke, 1903 in Letters to a Young Poet )

"After I posted, I thought of Aleksandra's posts that talk about the process-oriented, braided 'poetics' of Balinese drama versus the less process-oriented poetics of Aristotle and much of western literature. Certainly writers involved in digital media have wrestled with the apparent disjunction between the structure of western narratives and drama, on the one hand, and the more process-oriented possibilities of new media. It may be that the sort of thing you and Aleksandra note--that useful paradigms for dramatic, process-oriented art exist (as in Balinese drama)--could be useful to writers and others. Interesting that the 'braided process' approach is not only of drama but song and dance... Greek theatre also had these elements...it seems likely that the roots of Greek drama go back to religious rites/rituals (so much work done on that matter by the 'Cambridge anthropologists' Jane Harrison et all)." "I wonder if you know when the Balinesian...

:: note :: . . . every snowman needs a feather . . . Irving would have loved it . . . as a high school student his works were one of my first sources into the power of words . . . rage, rage, rage into the good night old ageless man . . .

three days the sky wept on the sunday afternoon a patch of blue sky opened not enough to see the sun for the clouds still shrouded the mountain tops slow heavy steps led to the river "why, why, why" cried the place behind the eye the fast winter flowing water replied "let the why rest" narrow winding paths of fern & cedar take you to & from this place between listen to the unseen raven find where the mosses cover the roof of the world dear sister when I next come knocking at your door please answer quietly for your bed has been made (12/25/05 Hope,BC) :: note :: . . . written the day before the Hope service I knew she was to be buried in Saskatoon . . . two days later my hand held the the urn and placed it gently to bed touching the earth's bottom . . . to those reading i have the need to apologize . . . the mourning is private . . . i share the privacy . . . take care of the ones around you . . .

open the sky carrying ashes in corridors of time between the gold light shadows wander where are you now? in the mist there was a mountainside departing where dancing in the pew a child chants tip toe tip toe tip toe & a son wept waiting at the edge of the foothills in a glass stained hallway a weary night comes bringing no rest no sleep just an uneasy truce the black bag heavy single strap weighs the shoulder a temporary station on a life long journey towards immortality where will you go? you shall be home soon soon south of the loon cry follow the calling geese open the sky (calgary airport12/27/05) I Shall Be Released Bob Dylan They say everything can be replaced They say every distance is not near So I remember every face Of every man who put me here. I see my light come shining From the west unto the east Any day now, any day now, I shall be released. They say every man needs protection They say every man must fall So I swear I see my reflection Someplace so high above this...