RUDIMENTS, pt. 901
(boy if I knew)
Sometimes I myself get
baffled by the sorts of things
that come my way, or which
I then turn up. A few chapters
back here I wrote of a 'new'
language to be needed for an
indeterminate future which ill
have outmoded all of ours, of
the present day.' Three chapters
back, when I wrote that, it was
as startling to me as it reads;
coming as it did from nowhere,
not really processed or strategized.
I went with it, wrote through it
and ended up happy with the
result. (Rudiments, #898,
'Straightforward'). Ok, so
that all settled out, and then
today I run across something I
was reading, and there, right
in front of me, is a presentation,
in a random-psycho-physics sort
of way, a few paragraphs that
touch on much the same. Hmm?
Too shaky for me. 'Cordellas are
invisible symbols that surface.
As they do, they show the universe
in a new light, by the very nature
of their relationships. On a very
limited fashion, alphabets do the
same thing, for once who have
accepted certain verbal symbols,
they impose their discipline even
upon your thoughts....and throw
their particular light upon the
reality you perceive. Alphabets
are, nevertheless, tools that shape
and direct perception. They are
groups of relationships that you
transpose upon 'reality. To this
extent they shape the perceptions
of the world you know. Their
discipline and rigidity is considerable.
Once you think of a tree as a
tree, it takes great effort before
you can see it fresh;y again, as
a living individual entity.
Cordellas do not have the same
rigidity. Inner invisible relationships
are allowed to rise, with the
acknowledged recognized reality
viewed through the lenses of
these emerging relationships...'
Oh boy, thought I, fasten thine
seat belt. (Using an old word).
-
Let me just add that this is all
about how I run - by intuition,
no rulebook, little reference. I
can scent things out, follow,
and lead too. The hands-on rule
rule for me is simply to NOT
meddle too much in any of what's
happening - just instead stay in
there, take it down, and let it
develop. So I say to you, I do
NOT know where things will
lead. This all could be a blind
alley, on a blind horse. Or not.
-
Think maybe of a alphabet (new)
that works for the senses. For touch,
and smell. Meanings are allowed
to rise and fall where, using established
lines of language, meanings are rigidly
attached to given experiences, so
that perception must be held within
well-defined limits. Alphabets do
not change (or they would be
considered useless). Cordellas
do change, and within that change,
alter reality. Once that reality is
altered, it becomes growth, a
growth within growth. Much
like a Platonic dialogue about the
prime representations of perfect
things in our secondary world, we
use 'symbols' to profess our
intentions. That - when you
come down to it - is what
language, and words, and
letters are. Cave man gutturals,
the likes of which (though
far more complex now, because
deep and multi-layered by eons
of use) were once meant to say:
'Johnny, better get over here now,
that light in the sky that touched
down? It started water from
the sky, and stopped, and now
the damned woods are on fire?
Go get Hazel and the kids.'
-
Boy how we have refined all
that. 'Refiner's Fire' as is said.
I think it's all about focus, like
those magnifying-glass leaf
fires we'd start as kids.Or on
each others' hands, forget the
leaves. We'd see who could
take that fine pinpoint focal
of light the longest - intensified
focus, light, into energy. A
tumbling, toiled point of energy
turning into heat, turning into
fire. With an 'O' for ouch, if
it happened to be focused on
the back of your hand, Mr.
Tough Guy - and, no, Lucy's
not watching, so all your big
boy bravado went for naught.
(Using an old word again).
-
All the rest of life followed suit:
Wherever the focus of one's own
concentration was, that was the
location of the transformed activity.
The brush-fire that breaks out
and to which you then turn your
attention. It's a difficult thing to
explain to others, especially when
the focus of those others night be
towards something entirely other
than yours. Therein lies the mix.
Societies are made. Bees go
buzzing.
-
By the time I'd gotten to much of
my senses, age six maybe, seven,
I was in Avenel, and reckoning it
was all over. The patterns of my
life were set - wasn't sure, me,
either way if it was something of
they way I'd be wanting it to be
or not, but - since it hadn't really
yet badgered to either death or
distraction - I was ready to just
let it come on, let it happen, and
see what it all was. Boy, if I knew...
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