Making art of conversing
In making art of conversing, and especially of meeting, you are changing yourself, making yourself, re-making yourself.
:- Doug.
In making art of conversing, and especially of meeting, you are changing yourself, making yourself, re-making yourself.
:- Doug.
Some ritual is given us and we perform, such as from a book of liturgy, or by some high official. Some arises from us, such as when we kiss a child’s owie, or gather around the bed of our father newly died, scatter rose petals, wash his face, hands and feet, and sing songs from imperfect memory. The radio plays music which tells us how to feel and sometimes think—that too is a ritual, but unseen. Too seldom dancing and music wells.
:- Doug.
Today
I read a poem
I wrote a poem
What could be
better? We
two—together
becoming a poem
:- Doug.
Stalking the conversing
That betweening
Event happening
Now it’s gone
You have two of you
Entered a new land
An Oral culture, mostly
Once spoken, words
fly Once said, you
soar Found dazzles not
Lost together is fertile
:- Doug.
See how an artist can make me—err, help me—think new thoughts? See how you in conversation can seed new worlds!
:- Doug.
Say, what are the private Alps no one knows you two have climbed?
And what is the vanishing point of this painting you two are making?
:- Doug.
There are many things in this world of which you are unaware. Some you will not as human animal ever experience (electricity as sensed by fish), or seldom (echo location as in bats). But some you might develop. In conversation we work on some of these.
:- Doug.
See if you can enter more conversations saying to yourself, “I wonder. . . .”
:- Doug.