” People use the world and its material richness to think with, not just to re-create thoughts they already have…

…Thus, Barth emphasized human engagement with, as opposed to distanced contemplation of, the material world as critical to the process of meaning production.”

– Nicole Boivin on the work of anthropologist Fredrik Barth in Material Cultures, Material Minds

With legs like wire
Snaking towards the belfry

Freedom god damnit

The fossiliferous bloom
Trains my attention to the knots in my back
and the orogenies

I sprint towards the funnelesque point of entry
but too big to enter
and causing a sprain.

the doer

At the end of a long work shift, I walked home in the oddly warm December rain.  I looked up through branches lit by streetlights and very sincerely said “Praise God.”

Is it paradoxical to identify with the godhead, as so many mystics do, while giving thanks to God?  Does not the gesture of giving thanks re-establish the division between the self and the divine that so weakens the spirit?

No.  But it does suggest that divine agency lies beyond the boundaries of ego.  And in search of that divine agency, the act of giving thanks trains awareness upward through ever-larger constellations of mind—family, community, species, biome—to the oneness that is called God.  The spirit catches homeward winds and feels gratitude.

“The true devotee always says, O Lord, Thou art the doer (Karta).  Thou doest everything.  I am a mere instrument in Thy hands.  I do whatever Thou makest me do.  All this is Thy glory.  This home and this family are Thine, not mine; I have only the right to serve as Thou ordainest.”

-The Sayings of Sri Ramakrishna, p.47

fragment on the city as symbolic communication

 

By day, the city is made of flesh and stone.   

It is a binary field of openings and constraints.  

It is produced and programmed by a social order in which phenomena—whether the rise of a new parking garage or the opening of a soup kitchen—have contingent but no less definite sets of meanings.  

It stares back, and it anxiously resists a sense of play,

The temporal signature of the daytime city is flux.

 

The nighttime city is a web of electric lights.

It invites stochastic, incidental correspondences of subjective meaning.  

When I was a child, my mother warned me that there was a giant gorilla living in the blue lantern at the top of the Industrial Trust Building.  I worried that the beast might wake in a thrashing rage at any moment.  

It is half-blind, and lends itself to imaginative re-inscriptions.

The temporal signature of the nighttime city is the flicker.

lost friend

One time, a friend asked me for a ride to “some hipster church” in Providence that she had just started attending.  She brought her own incense, intending to give it to the Christians to burn during the service.  At the time I thought her unsolicited offering was naive and maybe a bit too forward.  I figured that these people, being religious, would have a certain fixed way of doing things, not open to improvisation by newcomers.

Now, thinking back on episode, I am in deep awe of her gesture.  I wonder what would a society knit together by such loving improvisations would look like.