Ebbinghaus Curve of Forgetting

DSCF1344-1280

An Interview with Jorge Luis Borges
Reality Is Perplexing Enough

Merely a Man of Letters
Jorge Luis Borges: an interview
Philosophy and Literature 1 (1977): 337-41

Grace Paley, The Art of Fiction No. 131

Artist in Residence

Family Residency Initiative

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The soil is who we are, and there are flowers on your head

A few more threads in the weave… I went searching for some new podcasts, and on one of those meanders that started at Expanding Mind with Erik Davis (thanks Laura!), leading through the Progressive Radio Network to Derrick Jensen’s Resistance Radio, and finding myself in the realms of the herbalists. Rosemary Gladstar’s name came up on For the Wild, and then I was drawn to the title of this episode, Nina Simons on the Holistic Endeavor of Shifting Culture. When I get super clear in these synchronous moments, I realise that my deepest commitment is to consciousness, and in particular the worldview shifts that the dominant culture needs to make to… to what? Save our planet/save ourselves/save our souls?

Nina Simons says at 15.30 “I have come to understand that there are as many ways to respond to the multiple, interdependent crises and challenges we face as there are human beings… and that communication is absolutely a form of activism, and so is raising children…”

At 31.20, she quotes Tiokasin Ghosthorse saying:

In my language, the word we use to describe the soil means, Who we used to be.

My ongoing love for language, art, activism, and my political insistence on the magical properties of my own daily life are symptoms of this deeper consciousness, though I find it easy to get lost in the busyness of the superficial, even with these commitments in place. And although there is a genre of eco-folk that seems to be required listening when researching interesting ecostuff, I even liked some of the music in this one:

[Note to podcast makers everywhere: if you have song you are considering for a musical interlude that starts with a freaky whisper, maybe don’t use it. You need to consider that you are in my head. I listen to podcasts when I am lying beside my little girl as she falls asleep. A freaky whisper in my head at the end of a normal human conversation is just frightening.]

From the podcast, I went on to check out Nina Simons’ project Bioneers. I found the art, and found the flowers.

Mud Baron

Good Bones

Good Bones, by Maggie Smith

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.