It’s cold .. need a beach!

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Can emergence be planned?

Light bulbs are not going off, it is cold and my brain is sluggish. I would rather be at the beach. It’s hard being in the wintry southern hemisphere when friends are in balmy northern hemisphere places. I check through photo albums looking for flash of insight while lingering longingly at the beaches. O dear – go with it – emergence says think beach, toes in sand, sun on skin, goggles and snorkel on. Alchemy will be back one day.

.PS. It’s cold – how is hat? Remember, the hat. Well, it fell off today, somewhere on the street. I took it off to feel a shimmer of thin sun and dropped it – how does that happen.

PPS. Beaches I have loved – PNG, Broome, Fiji Islands, South Gippsland.

Words as emergence, self as flow.

Emily Dickenson reminds us, The word is dead when it is said, some say / But I say, it just begins to live that day.

I have found that in each ‘word’ chosen there is a sacred becomingness. A becoming, at each and every articulated moment. A weaving of reality in the now and the becoming. Emergence.

John Shotter reminds me “that Goethe shows us there are mysteries we can ‘enter into’ and begin to find our ‘way around’, there is a ‘poetic’ way of talking and writing – what we may call ‘withness’ writing – we express what we find in our criss-cross journeying over often befogged landscapes. Ways of taking and writing are like signposts erected at recognisable landmarks, ‘pointing to’ what is next in the world of our everyday, practical affairs.”

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The poet Eric Ormsby knew this, when he wrote, I have the feeling that words lead a private existence of their own, apart from us, and that when we speak or write, especially in moments of strong emotion, we do little more than hitch a ride on some obliging syllable or accommodating phrase.

And from Fink,  language has a life of is own .. (and) while we have the feeling, much of the time, of choosing our words, at times they are chosen for us.

This is the power and the healing of journalling, of blogging. Words crafting, exploring, bringing out lived experience and insight.

Words allow me to know self as flow.

LOL Michel Foucalt or/ how knowledge can often get in the way

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The following is Foucault’s explanation of the impetus behind his The Order of Things. I offer it as a reminder that categorisation, like the search for definitions, theories or explanations, is a nuanced art.

“The book first rose out of a passage in Bores, out of the laughter, that shattered, as I read the passage, all the familiar landmarks of my thought – our thought, the thought that bears the stamp of our age and our geography – breaking up all the ordered surfaces and all the planes with which we are accustomed to tame the wild profusion of existing things, and continuing long afterwards to disturb and threaten with collapse our age-old distinction between the Same and the Other.

This passage quotes a ‘certain Chinese encyclopaedia’ in which it is written that ‘animals are divided into: (a) belonging to the Emperor, (b) embalmed, c) tame, (d) sucking pigs, (e) sirens, (f) fabulous, (g) stray dogs, (h) included in the present classification, (i) frenzied, (j) innumerable, (k) drawn with a very fine candle hair brush, (l) et cetera, (m) having just broken the water pitcher, (n) that from a long way off look like ‘flies’.

In the wonderment of this taxonomy, the thing we apprehend in one great leap, the thing that, by means of the fable, is demonstrated in the exotic charm of another system of thought, is the limitation of our own …”

We assume taxonomies and typologies create spaces for everything once and once only. Dewey and Linneaus take note. Foucault understands the quandary and John Shotter writes that “as adults n the western world, what we ignore, even in the study of ourselves, is the coming into being of things. We tend to think in terms of finished things, like solid objects. we are not well versed in methods of thinking about unfinished things, things still open to yet further development, fluid things.”  

My ontological interests lie here, because the map, as they say, is not the territory. Being, becoming, emergence are the edges of knowing and unknowing. The world of en=mergence loves the present participle.

Today’s ‘animal’ photos offer giraffe spotting in Nairobi, Kenya (and yes, some so far off they looked like flies); the craze for cute animal onesies; our dear departed Golden Retriever, Angel; puppy taking a break from antique selling, Le Marais, Paris; geese conversing, NSW paddock;  superb art inMusee du Louvre and up close and personal in Petra, Jordan.