Take a pebble for instance, an item, One of the few and many that can be picked up by hand. Some are like this. Some can also be instruments, sticks or stones, alongside the immovable base-grounds. Hence thou hast compositions, counting, forms, names, phrases, and such. Early folk creating grammar on the fly, far from learning it or being taught it. What counts the quiet though, the quietus? There can be no count without that, no seeing, not even any hearing. Well the breathing counts it, says the brain. Imagine all paint and no canvas! You lose track of your sons. Were they ever even yours, oh fleet of foot? Wild turkeys cross the streets coolly around here, Up from the Mississippi, And I thank them daily for it. More than one story-set or circle of the world Calls life breath, the one and the all An old-time bellows or mill that moves particles Like Da Vinci drew Each pebble a point and a pointer, if marked, And of course a black square.
________________________________ From: NetBehaviour <netbehaviour-boun...@lists.netbehaviour.org> on behalf of Alan Sondheim <sondh...@panix.com> Sent: Monday, August 26, 2019 6:11 PM To: NetBehaviour for networked distributed creativity <netbehaviour@lists.netbehaviour.org> Subject: [NetBehaviour] Goddess of Storms and Alphabets Goddess of Storms and Alphabets http://www.alansondheim.org/P1030727.jpg http://www.alansondheim.org/P1030738.JPG I'm not sure how language would begin, not sure how language would be recorded as a gesture accompanied by a sound. Sure to be sounds accompanying gestures that hardened, somewhen into a signal or call, somehow a meaning. The sounds were ghostings, heard over the hill around the hill in the forest across the stream behind the rocks above the cliffs within the caves, the gestures were bodies, the bodies were breathing, there were two directions, into the lungs, out from the lungs. There were swirls and whirlwinds and the world breathed and was given body and bodies. It was cool to hear a knowledge from one who was knowing, invisible, elsewhere. There were cries too from the woundings, there were disappearances of familiar voices from leaving and dying which returned in memories and dreams made real with them, the waking in the night, the weeping and ululations. The world was enormous and narrow and all around and the same for many comings and goings for weeks and months at a time, or just a vision around the boulder surface or from the sky when things moved there, as they always did. The world was always different than the world, and always new and old, and always the world. The murmuring of the world was everywhere and everywhen and when that became language and accountancy, everything moved away, quietly, until distance itself became unfathomable, unknown even in its familiarity. Sure to be sounds, sure to be. _______________________________________________ NetBehaviour mailing list NetBehaviour@lists.netbehaviour.org https://lists.netbehaviour.org/mailman/listinfo/netbehaviour
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