vαnα mαnαsιάdι[s]
- The Grief Almanac: A Sequel
- onsite
- online
- Ithaca Island Bay Leaves: A Mythistorima
- Shipwrecks/Shelters
- Tātai Whetū with Maraea Rakuraku
- DIALOGUING WITH
:Jill Sorensen //from the bubble
Vana Manasiadi
Sat 11/04/2020 21:38
Dear Jill
I'm so sorry to not have thanked you for the nurturing night before we all closed down; and not to have replied to your writing post the evening (I loved the text and the photos). A lot's happened, but that's no excuse. Really, I wanted to write up something in response and send it to you for the archive...and then the days passed and passed, and stuff and online metamorphosing took over alongside all the social/mental rejigs.
...Recently Paula Green the poet/critic who runs Poetry Shelf asked me if I'd like to offer something on the idea of 'from the bubble' in two weeks. And I immediately thought of you, about the impossibility of bubbles being human-alone, about viruses joining and consequences – tragic or not yet obvious – and all the re-imaginings emerging from bubbles joining other bubbles because that's just what they do.
And I wonder whether you'd be interested in joining the text over the next two weeks in a kind of collab back and forth? I've been thinking of building an associative list of things/phrases/quotes/spaces to signal our bubbles(porous, merging, microscopic, endless).
Meanwhile, I hope you and whānau are well in every way. I hope your garden these warm days has been buzzing and brimming as I met it, and as I still think of it joyfully.
Arohanui noho ora mai
and
let me know if you'd like to join/I could send a first word/phrase on Monday/perhaps this letter contains it.
Vana
From: Jill Sorensen
Sent: 12 April 2020 09:57
Hi Vana,
YES, I would absolutely love to! I love the way you are thinking/the multiple directions/acknowledgement of the collision of a nonhuman entity – a virus and the neoliberal human species bubble....
I have been reflecting on Thanking the Birds and the Bees, the Vines and the Trees too. In retrospect it was poignantly timed, it feels so long ago and so luxuriously innocent, close and free, now that we must distance ourselves from all but our closest bubble-mates.
As it happens, I am working towards a Plan B for my thesis examination exhibition as suddenly an intimate dwelling space at my home seems out of the question for the near future. I would like to take up this moment to delve more deeply into the efficacy of shared (research) agency;I have an idea for a dispersed dwelling space project which will also involve language play and storytelling. I've been thinking quite a lot about the social implications of lockdown and bubbles. Much of my work has looked at how I might create a heterotopia (a space in which normal rules do not apply) within everyday space and I think that lockdown is a sudden and unexpected heterotopic event. I'm excited at the possibility of instigating a project in which people create their own, chosen heterotopic space within the unchosen heterotopic space of covid19.
A dispersed DIY project could facilitate letting go of directorship/control of artistic production while also allowing the project to develop organically/to spread virally. It seems an appropriate moment to offer a gesture of kindness. (Also, to infiltrate, flow, ferment and possibly go rogue.
There is an equally garbled version of this idea in the attached document.
Thanks for thinking of me and I am excited to talk further!
J
Vana Manasiadi
Sun 12/04/2020 23:06
Hi Jill
I absolutely love your dispersed dwelling space project, and have spent the day thinking about it; though I don't have anything particularly considered to say except that the sharing, inhabiting, materiality, play and storytelling from your Plan B, feels electric.
Thank you for letting me inhabit it today as I've walked around Mt Eden notice-ingly, cataloguing all the ways my bubble isn't just my bubble, and instead 'dispersed'...one bubble among millions of indiscrete others, membranes touching and melding.
The concept of the heterotopia also fills me with euphoria! And makes me think of the period in Greece during Occupy in 2011 when thousands of Athenians would descend daily onto Syntagma square and anybody could take the microphone and suggest alternative realities, communal ones, anti-hierarchical ones, 'in-and-of-the-world' ones; and on it would go all night, every night for months, the cicadas and mosquitoes and stray dogs and summer blossoms and microbial heat, all of us present and stickily together. This, before winter and bankruptcy and the big fat banking neoliberalism fight-back.
And here we are at another so much huger nexus. Friends and I have been talking about this slow time and old time, this pause...before the something else? Your virus-as-bee analogy is beautiful. Could this be the end of the Holocene/the beginning of a new shepherding? (Dare we dream miraculous thoughts?) The texts called poems…I've lately become allergic to many forms of taxonomy, separation being in their DNA; and all the consequences of that (for example Book Awards with their inherited Victorian categorizing of Poetry and Prose/fiction and Non-Fiction, when there are so many multiple and miraculous hybrid spaces and selves colliding and generating).
So more and more I'm hoping to practice the multi-entity, and the heterodoxical idea of co-authored texts too, as a kind of anti-[sole] authorship. I'm also just starting to think about what a next long text project might explore. Last year I eerily began researching women doctors/nurses/healers, and contagion, and virus during the Spanish flu and typhoid epidemics in NZ; and earlier in the Athens Plague; ideas of porousness, exchange, surrender, symbiosis, mis- or untranslatability of threat, dis/ordering of hierarchies. The project has a really long way to go to even start to look like something though....
But today, as I was walking around with all of this, I thought about recording a catalogue, or archival record - (things that are interesting to me in their ability to cross-pollinate futures with pasts and vice versa) – of the inhabitants of our bubbles during lockdown - ie human and non-human persons, things and non-things – what do you think?
Shall we play a few days and see what happens? I can send you a few artefacts from my bubble/walk tomorrow? I'm so happy you're interested in joining an exchange, sculpting some text with me! I think we have already begun to write it.
Vana
From: Jill Sorensen
Sent: 12 April 2020 09:57
I have been reflecting on human responses to coronavirus…
Imagine if, rather than trying to stamp it out we imagined this virus as a bee who has inadvertently flown into our house We might shepherd her gently back towards the window with a sheet of paper or capture her in a jar and let her go through the open window and back to her honey-gathering.
Imagine, that we could extend this generosity to a wasp, who would also sting us, without the redeeming features of industry and honey making. We might also usher this wasp, who would sting us and who gives us nothing, carefully back out the window with the surety that in her own territory she will not bother us.
Could we think of this virus in the same way? A tiny entity who has inadvertently strayed from its accommodating host and into our defenceless human bodies. Would we think or feel differently if we considered not that we were warring or stamping but rather ushering carefully? Corralling them cautiously with our facemasks and ventilators, directing them back to the place where they do no harm.
That is, putting it back we should never have picked it up from. Of course, we can never put it back, and course we do not want it to kill us.
J
Vana Manasiadi
Mon 13/04/2020 16:39
Kia ora Jill
I decided to stay in the lounge, look at or see what already surrounds me, rather than walk-out, look-for...
I've also been thinking about energy as a case for non-human personhoods
--radiation from heat waves, light waves: sun [the universe] through the window; heat absorbed by earthy bodies
--pressure waves, sound: wind, leaves, runners' footfalls, upstairs neighbours' walking-weights and voices absorbed through
--spider's web, so spiders; dust, so dustmites; gaps in the window frames, so pollen inhaled, our huge antibody trades
--books (dustmites) - paper - trees; rugs - wool - sheep (Afghani, Turkish), our travelling, cohabiting proteins
--soils, microbes, plant cells (aloe vera, succulents, fern, lilly), our common DNA, life-forces
--Anthony: his DNA: presence of his human and non-human ancestors; his permeable membrane, microbial shared housing
--chemical energies; exhaled-inhaled air, particles assimilated, our carbon cycles
V
Jill Sorensen
Thu 16/04/2020 09:25
Hi Vana,
sorry for the slow response - I have been writing a proposal... now sent in, so today I will spend some time reflecting on your thoughts and thinking around them. BTW have you read David Bohm's On Dialogue, where he proposes that thought as a participatory process. He was a quantum physicist and applies quantum theory to thought processes. I think what we're doing is what he calls to dialogue, a shared exchange of thoughts and felts (Bohm's word for the past tense of feelings: thinking – thoughts, feeling – felts.) I was introduced to him through Christopher Braddock's dialogue group at St Paul Street gallery last year.
Xj
From: Jill Sorensen
Sent: 17 April 2020 12:07
Hi Vana,
I have spent a pleasurable morning writing down some thoughts in response to your last mail. Thanks again.
XXJ
Response #1
I've also been thinking about energy rather than sentience as a case for non-human personhoods... Energy emanates from the sun, from the belly of the earth.We speak of energy as flowing, but technically it vibrates, and this vibration activates the next atoms, cells, beings. We could more honestly say the energy is spread by contagion.
… I have also been thinking about energy as the life force within which we are all bathed. I am thinking about it a little like the way we think about a fish or an anemone immersed in the sea, the water permeates, flows through, provides both grounding structure for the body. (Of course, the air has a similar relationship with our bodies, but we do not notice it so much). Maybe I could picture it as a vibrational field in which intensities gather and disperse, slowly in the case of rock, or gathered over summer in the body of a fruit; released and dispersed again when the fruit is eaten by another being.
Sometimes I think of my consciousness, self or ego as a little flame of energy held between the entities that comprise my being. I imagine each cell and microorganism participating in an intricate dance, embracing and releasing one another, exchanging partners and selves with the biosphere that holds and permeates us. When this dance stumbles, I am unwell; when the dances interrupted by interlopers or injury, I am ill. If the dance flounders too long,I die. Then my dancers disperse for a moment, to re-coalesce in a new dance, the flame of another being. Maybe this is my bubble, porous, fragile, lively, beautiful.
Sometimes I sense the energy of the things in my bubble. I recall lying in the bath enjoying a receptive, meditative moment and becoming aware of the energy of the house. A body compiled, as all bodies are, from the parts of other things; the wood of trees who would have pushed as seedlings from the ground around the time my great-grandfather set foot in New Zealand. The plastic skin of paint, with the memory of the foliage they once were before they were oil, before they were plasticised into paint.
I live here, but this is not my house. It is a house shared with moths, chewing and boring insects, beetles and mites. The home of skin flakes and dust. Of the river of pure water who passes from mountain lake, through the conduits of our city and homes.(Passing sullied from home to sewage treatment plant to sea. The porosity of my bubble allows this flow). My sense of time is short, I feel like this is my house, but this house has held, as tenderly and protectively a holds me, a procession of human inhabitants, and will offer the same care to those who follow me.
I do not feel constrained by my lockdown–bubble. It is a generous bubble encapsulating aliving network: A house that holds me in its quiet, stable life force. A garden; an active and lively community of plants, worms, soil, sun, bugs and chickens woven together in multidirectional energetic exchange. This bubble is shared with my husband, with whom I live easily and closely, and with a young cat, for whom the bubble is the original normal. (And now you, Vana, as an energetic force palpably present) which leads me to remember that my bubble is also infused with the thoughts, words, conceits, wisdom and fallacies of a geographically and chronologically dispersed community of philosophers and writers whose thinking I draw out and unfold as I read think and write.
Jill Sorensen
Fri 17/04/2020 12:27
BTW I would also like to write responses to individual things who share my bubble.
xj
Vana Manasiadi
Sat 18/04/2020 17:00
Dear Jill
Here thoughts, felts follow. Thank you for yours.
Response #2
I've been thinking of dialogue (transcript, address, testament, chronicle, books of hours from Punctum's vision statement; how amazing, since you mentioned Bohm a few days ago. I'm thinking of the physics of dialogue, of energy and vibrations, which you describe so perfectly as a bubble infused with thoughts, words, conceit and fallacies of a dispersed community of thinkers. Yes: ideas as presence.. I haven't read Bohm's On Dialogue, would love to, but have loved Bahktin's idea of the carnival where normal rules and roles surrender to expressive participation (your heterotopias!) a long while ago; and the idea that dialogue doesn't seek resolution/triumph but new outwardness and coexistence: essentially not ending: essentially dialogue waves rolling onwards through space(sigh, chant, keening, song).
Jill, yesterday I read your response aloud to the once-foliage-then-oil-then paint of my bedroom walls, to the wooden structure behind the walls, to the boring insects and skin-flakes and various small moulds. I read your part of the dialogue and paused between each paragraph and waited for the sound vibrations to coil and rest against the soil beneath the foundations; to still-still-still – as far as my limited sense of hearing could guess at – before starting again and letting your bubble meet my bubble: the intricate dancing, flame, rock, fish, your felts and thoughts from your-here to my-here.
Ah those inaccurate possessive pronouns. I call it my voice, the sound from my larynx, my voice-box, my mouth muscles, teeth, but they’re carbon compounds, fleshy materials, given to me by the long previous procession. And as I read your response in the afternoon light, using my [their] voice/s, I felt a kind of electricity [multidirectional energetic exchange] overlaying the discernible. Your response was so embodied, it felt like a tether and matter mattering. And so I enter your bubble with the husband easily and closely, a warm cat beyond my allergies to its innocent dander, your force [palpably present].
What else? I stand as centrally as possible in the space. Am I making conscious decisions? Is standing dialogue? I think contact below feet, and thin wind through hair must be enough to prove it is. The smallest proofs of contagion; the longest talks, Anthony and I have, when I try to understand dark energy and matter. We go round in circles (he the engineer, me the not) with the enormity of this invisibility surrounding us; surely permeating.. It’s a game, this dancing, this not knowing, not owning, not waning...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DIY Alternative Reality Hut
Jill Sorensen
Fri 24/04/2020 10:48
Hi Vana,
Here are the links to DIY Alternative Reality Hut - I realised we have not shared social media contacts. I am doing physical versions (translated by photo) of the sort of interactions we have been talking about. I would love to hear your feedback, and please do join in this weekend.
Let's talk soon.
xxj
https://www.facebook.com/alternativerealityhut/
and Instagram @alternativerealiltyhut
https://jillsorensen.net/
Vana Manasiadi
Sat 11/04/2020 21:38
Dear Jill
I'm so sorry to not have thanked you for the nurturing night before we all closed down; and not to have replied to your writing post the evening (I loved the text and the photos). A lot's happened, but that's no excuse. Really, I wanted to write up something in response and send it to you for the archive...and then the days passed and passed, and stuff and online metamorphosing took over alongside all the social/mental rejigs.
...Recently Paula Green the poet/critic who runs Poetry Shelf asked me if I'd like to offer something on the idea of 'from the bubble' in two weeks. And I immediately thought of you, about the impossibility of bubbles being human-alone, about viruses joining and consequences – tragic or not yet obvious – and all the re-imaginings emerging from bubbles joining other bubbles because that's just what they do.
And I wonder whether you'd be interested in joining the text over the next two weeks in a kind of collab back and forth? I've been thinking of building an associative list of things/phrases/quotes/spaces to signal our bubbles(porous, merging, microscopic, endless).
Meanwhile, I hope you and whānau are well in every way. I hope your garden these warm days has been buzzing and brimming as I met it, and as I still think of it joyfully.
Arohanui noho ora mai
and
let me know if you'd like to join/I could send a first word/phrase on Monday/perhaps this letter contains it.
Vana
From: Jill Sorensen
Sent: 12 April 2020 09:57
Hi Vana,
YES, I would absolutely love to! I love the way you are thinking/the multiple directions/acknowledgement of the collision of a nonhuman entity – a virus and the neoliberal human species bubble....
I have been reflecting on Thanking the Birds and the Bees, the Vines and the Trees too. In retrospect it was poignantly timed, it feels so long ago and so luxuriously innocent, close and free, now that we must distance ourselves from all but our closest bubble-mates.
As it happens, I am working towards a Plan B for my thesis examination exhibition as suddenly an intimate dwelling space at my home seems out of the question for the near future. I would like to take up this moment to delve more deeply into the efficacy of shared (research) agency;I have an idea for a dispersed dwelling space project which will also involve language play and storytelling. I've been thinking quite a lot about the social implications of lockdown and bubbles. Much of my work has looked at how I might create a heterotopia (a space in which normal rules do not apply) within everyday space and I think that lockdown is a sudden and unexpected heterotopic event. I'm excited at the possibility of instigating a project in which people create their own, chosen heterotopic space within the unchosen heterotopic space of covid19.
A dispersed DIY project could facilitate letting go of directorship/control of artistic production while also allowing the project to develop organically/to spread virally. It seems an appropriate moment to offer a gesture of kindness. (Also, to infiltrate, flow, ferment and possibly go rogue.
There is an equally garbled version of this idea in the attached document.
Thanks for thinking of me and I am excited to talk further!
J
Vana Manasiadi
Sun 12/04/2020 23:06
Hi Jill
I absolutely love your dispersed dwelling space project, and have spent the day thinking about it; though I don't have anything particularly considered to say except that the sharing, inhabiting, materiality, play and storytelling from your Plan B, feels electric.
Thank you for letting me inhabit it today as I've walked around Mt Eden notice-ingly, cataloguing all the ways my bubble isn't just my bubble, and instead 'dispersed'...one bubble among millions of indiscrete others, membranes touching and melding.
The concept of the heterotopia also fills me with euphoria! And makes me think of the period in Greece during Occupy in 2011 when thousands of Athenians would descend daily onto Syntagma square and anybody could take the microphone and suggest alternative realities, communal ones, anti-hierarchical ones, 'in-and-of-the-world' ones; and on it would go all night, every night for months, the cicadas and mosquitoes and stray dogs and summer blossoms and microbial heat, all of us present and stickily together. This, before winter and bankruptcy and the big fat banking neoliberalism fight-back.
And here we are at another so much huger nexus. Friends and I have been talking about this slow time and old time, this pause...before the something else? Your virus-as-bee analogy is beautiful. Could this be the end of the Holocene/the beginning of a new shepherding? (Dare we dream miraculous thoughts?) The texts called poems…I've lately become allergic to many forms of taxonomy, separation being in their DNA; and all the consequences of that (for example Book Awards with their inherited Victorian categorizing of Poetry and Prose/fiction and Non-Fiction, when there are so many multiple and miraculous hybrid spaces and selves colliding and generating).
So more and more I'm hoping to practice the multi-entity, and the heterodoxical idea of co-authored texts too, as a kind of anti-[sole] authorship. I'm also just starting to think about what a next long text project might explore. Last year I eerily began researching women doctors/nurses/healers, and contagion, and virus during the Spanish flu and typhoid epidemics in NZ; and earlier in the Athens Plague; ideas of porousness, exchange, surrender, symbiosis, mis- or untranslatability of threat, dis/ordering of hierarchies. The project has a really long way to go to even start to look like something though....
But today, as I was walking around with all of this, I thought about recording a catalogue, or archival record - (things that are interesting to me in their ability to cross-pollinate futures with pasts and vice versa) – of the inhabitants of our bubbles during lockdown - ie human and non-human persons, things and non-things – what do you think?
Shall we play a few days and see what happens? I can send you a few artefacts from my bubble/walk tomorrow? I'm so happy you're interested in joining an exchange, sculpting some text with me! I think we have already begun to write it.
Vana
From: Jill Sorensen
Sent: 12 April 2020 09:57
I have been reflecting on human responses to coronavirus…
Imagine if, rather than trying to stamp it out we imagined this virus as a bee who has inadvertently flown into our house We might shepherd her gently back towards the window with a sheet of paper or capture her in a jar and let her go through the open window and back to her honey-gathering.
Imagine, that we could extend this generosity to a wasp, who would also sting us, without the redeeming features of industry and honey making. We might also usher this wasp, who would sting us and who gives us nothing, carefully back out the window with the surety that in her own territory she will not bother us.
Could we think of this virus in the same way? A tiny entity who has inadvertently strayed from its accommodating host and into our defenceless human bodies. Would we think or feel differently if we considered not that we were warring or stamping but rather ushering carefully? Corralling them cautiously with our facemasks and ventilators, directing them back to the place where they do no harm.
That is, putting it back we should never have picked it up from. Of course, we can never put it back, and course we do not want it to kill us.
J
Vana Manasiadi
Mon 13/04/2020 16:39
Kia ora Jill
I decided to stay in the lounge, look at or see what already surrounds me, rather than walk-out, look-for...
I've also been thinking about energy as a case for non-human personhoods
--radiation from heat waves, light waves: sun [the universe] through the window; heat absorbed by earthy bodies
--pressure waves, sound: wind, leaves, runners' footfalls, upstairs neighbours' walking-weights and voices absorbed through
--spider's web, so spiders; dust, so dustmites; gaps in the window frames, so pollen inhaled, our huge antibody trades
--books (dustmites) - paper - trees; rugs - wool - sheep (Afghani, Turkish), our travelling, cohabiting proteins
--soils, microbes, plant cells (aloe vera, succulents, fern, lilly), our common DNA, life-forces
--Anthony: his DNA: presence of his human and non-human ancestors; his permeable membrane, microbial shared housing
--chemical energies; exhaled-inhaled air, particles assimilated, our carbon cycles
V
Jill Sorensen
Thu 16/04/2020 09:25
Hi Vana,
sorry for the slow response - I have been writing a proposal... now sent in, so today I will spend some time reflecting on your thoughts and thinking around them. BTW have you read David Bohm's On Dialogue, where he proposes that thought as a participatory process. He was a quantum physicist and applies quantum theory to thought processes. I think what we're doing is what he calls to dialogue, a shared exchange of thoughts and felts (Bohm's word for the past tense of feelings: thinking – thoughts, feeling – felts.) I was introduced to him through Christopher Braddock's dialogue group at St Paul Street gallery last year.
Xj
From: Jill Sorensen
Sent: 17 April 2020 12:07
Hi Vana,
I have spent a pleasurable morning writing down some thoughts in response to your last mail. Thanks again.
XXJ
Response #1
I've also been thinking about energy rather than sentience as a case for non-human personhoods... Energy emanates from the sun, from the belly of the earth.We speak of energy as flowing, but technically it vibrates, and this vibration activates the next atoms, cells, beings. We could more honestly say the energy is spread by contagion.
… I have also been thinking about energy as the life force within which we are all bathed. I am thinking about it a little like the way we think about a fish or an anemone immersed in the sea, the water permeates, flows through, provides both grounding structure for the body. (Of course, the air has a similar relationship with our bodies, but we do not notice it so much). Maybe I could picture it as a vibrational field in which intensities gather and disperse, slowly in the case of rock, or gathered over summer in the body of a fruit; released and dispersed again when the fruit is eaten by another being.
Sometimes I think of my consciousness, self or ego as a little flame of energy held between the entities that comprise my being. I imagine each cell and microorganism participating in an intricate dance, embracing and releasing one another, exchanging partners and selves with the biosphere that holds and permeates us. When this dance stumbles, I am unwell; when the dances interrupted by interlopers or injury, I am ill. If the dance flounders too long,I die. Then my dancers disperse for a moment, to re-coalesce in a new dance, the flame of another being. Maybe this is my bubble, porous, fragile, lively, beautiful.
Sometimes I sense the energy of the things in my bubble. I recall lying in the bath enjoying a receptive, meditative moment and becoming aware of the energy of the house. A body compiled, as all bodies are, from the parts of other things; the wood of trees who would have pushed as seedlings from the ground around the time my great-grandfather set foot in New Zealand. The plastic skin of paint, with the memory of the foliage they once were before they were oil, before they were plasticised into paint.
I live here, but this is not my house. It is a house shared with moths, chewing and boring insects, beetles and mites. The home of skin flakes and dust. Of the river of pure water who passes from mountain lake, through the conduits of our city and homes.(Passing sullied from home to sewage treatment plant to sea. The porosity of my bubble allows this flow). My sense of time is short, I feel like this is my house, but this house has held, as tenderly and protectively a holds me, a procession of human inhabitants, and will offer the same care to those who follow me.
I do not feel constrained by my lockdown–bubble. It is a generous bubble encapsulating aliving network: A house that holds me in its quiet, stable life force. A garden; an active and lively community of plants, worms, soil, sun, bugs and chickens woven together in multidirectional energetic exchange. This bubble is shared with my husband, with whom I live easily and closely, and with a young cat, for whom the bubble is the original normal. (And now you, Vana, as an energetic force palpably present) which leads me to remember that my bubble is also infused with the thoughts, words, conceits, wisdom and fallacies of a geographically and chronologically dispersed community of philosophers and writers whose thinking I draw out and unfold as I read think and write.
Jill Sorensen
Fri 17/04/2020 12:27
BTW I would also like to write responses to individual things who share my bubble.
xj
Vana Manasiadi
Sat 18/04/2020 17:00
Dear Jill
Here thoughts, felts follow. Thank you for yours.
Response #2
I've been thinking of dialogue (transcript, address, testament, chronicle, books of hours from Punctum's vision statement; how amazing, since you mentioned Bohm a few days ago. I'm thinking of the physics of dialogue, of energy and vibrations, which you describe so perfectly as a bubble infused with thoughts, words, conceit and fallacies of a dispersed community of thinkers. Yes: ideas as presence.. I haven't read Bohm's On Dialogue, would love to, but have loved Bahktin's idea of the carnival where normal rules and roles surrender to expressive participation (your heterotopias!) a long while ago; and the idea that dialogue doesn't seek resolution/triumph but new outwardness and coexistence: essentially not ending: essentially dialogue waves rolling onwards through space(sigh, chant, keening, song).
Jill, yesterday I read your response aloud to the once-foliage-then-oil-then paint of my bedroom walls, to the wooden structure behind the walls, to the boring insects and skin-flakes and various small moulds. I read your part of the dialogue and paused between each paragraph and waited for the sound vibrations to coil and rest against the soil beneath the foundations; to still-still-still – as far as my limited sense of hearing could guess at – before starting again and letting your bubble meet my bubble: the intricate dancing, flame, rock, fish, your felts and thoughts from your-here to my-here.
Ah those inaccurate possessive pronouns. I call it my voice, the sound from my larynx, my voice-box, my mouth muscles, teeth, but they’re carbon compounds, fleshy materials, given to me by the long previous procession. And as I read your response in the afternoon light, using my [their] voice/s, I felt a kind of electricity [multidirectional energetic exchange] overlaying the discernible. Your response was so embodied, it felt like a tether and matter mattering. And so I enter your bubble with the husband easily and closely, a warm cat beyond my allergies to its innocent dander, your force [palpably present].
What else? I stand as centrally as possible in the space. Am I making conscious decisions? Is standing dialogue? I think contact below feet, and thin wind through hair must be enough to prove it is. The smallest proofs of contagion; the longest talks, Anthony and I have, when I try to understand dark energy and matter. We go round in circles (he the engineer, me the not) with the enormity of this invisibility surrounding us; surely permeating.. It’s a game, this dancing, this not knowing, not owning, not waning...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DIY Alternative Reality Hut
Jill Sorensen
Fri 24/04/2020 10:48
Hi Vana,
Here are the links to DIY Alternative Reality Hut - I realised we have not shared social media contacts. I am doing physical versions (translated by photo) of the sort of interactions we have been talking about. I would love to hear your feedback, and please do join in this weekend.
Let's talk soon.
xxj
https://www.facebook.com/alternativerealityhut/
and Instagram @alternativerealiltyhut
https://jillsorensen.net/
