Re: organism and identity / for sg
- that was interesting nina,,a bit too complicated for me to absorb all
of it but i'm sure i got something out of it, don't ask what...i was
wondering, have you read Fountain Head or is it Atlas Shrugged by ann
rynd, in which archetecture is the profession of the main character..
> > N: > Being out in nature, it would seem there are no walls.and
> > Looking closer, there are walls of a fashion, natural boundaries:
> > the formations of earth and bodies of water, of plants, small
> > large.as
> > > It is interesting, though, that these natural boundaries, while
> > > defining space, often are thought of being, or perceived to be,
> > > 'part of that nature space'.
> SG, this reminds me of the difference that 'training' makes
> as regards perspective. While the 'intuitive' sense of something,
> for instance, the qualities of natural space, may be inherently
> present, the ability to pinpoint what contributes to those
> qualities is not necessarily available without making effort
> to understand.
> Partially for devi, partially as part of this conversation,
> I would offer up that my sense of Iyengar's genius is his
> ability not only to tap into an intuitive, empathic sense
> of 'what is arising in the body'(both his own and his students'),
> but his ability to integrate that intuitive, empathic arising
> into something that can be understood and then precisely
> articulated to his students.
> It is the same with architectural training, in that one
> begins by having an affinity for architecture. The intuitive
> sense is that 'this works', 'this doesn't work'. The
> training is an exploration of how this works or doesn't work.
> The training culminates in the ability to replicate
> what works or doesn't work.. and sometimes develops into the
> ability to teach others how to know and create what works and
> doesn't work.
> You might say: that is all of the mind.
> I would submit that it isn't at all of the mind, and that
> the way I am using the word 'understanding' is as much a
> matter of the heart as it is of the mind. Understanding
> can be an art, as well as a science.
> When understanding is understood to be an art,
> then the boundaries of it flex or dissolve. One moment,
> there is one understanding, the next a different understanding.
> It is determined by play. The 'art' is in 'how'
> one understands.
> Understanding, is a process, not an end.
> The dissolution to which you point
> is the foundation of the art of understanding.
> It isn't necessary to remain steadfastly within
> that experience of dissolution, minute to minute,
> nothing is necessary.
> It is a joy to dip into it, and draw inspiration from it.
> When the inspiration fails, it is no worse than
> a sandcastle being washed away by the beach tide.
> Tomorrow, I build another sandcastle.
> The thing is, I do know that at any time, I could
> let go of the sandcastle building... but why?
> Maybe you know why and would share the why...
> > SG: it is all a point of reference..... if it is perceived
> > boundaries then i am sure it is what you need to see at thispoint
> > and juncture ....... it is possible to pull structure intoany
> > situation as well as releasing structure into simply a flow ofobjects
> > One....... i do not see space as an object nor do i see
> > as displacing space.....as
> If it is not perceived as boundaries, then I am sure it is what you
> need to see at this point and juncture. That you do not see space
> object or objects as displacing space is your determination. That
> said, there is nothing at all 'wrong' with that.
> It is possible to see space as both positive and negative, in which
> case, the difference between space and form becomes relative, but
> the distinction still exists.
> For instance, the distinction that is drawn between being 'in love'
> and 'out of love'.
> I wonder that it seems important that we all express 'being in love'
> all the time and in a certain manner.
> > SG: in Living Peace there are no barriers held -
> > no clinging - no aversions .... no mental jugglings .....
> > the point of stillness
> > contains Sat * Chit * Ananda.
> > it embraces all of Life seeing the perfection, underlying and
> > inundating all seeming imperfection.
> Well, ok, we always return to this. :)
- --- In email@example.com, "Nina" <murrkis@y...> wrote:
> > > When the inspiration fails, it is no worse thanNina, you just made my day
> > > a sandcastle being washed away by the beach tide.
> > > Tomorrow, I build another sandcastle.
> > >
> > > The thing is, I do know that at any time, I could
> > > let go of the sandcastle building... but why?
> > > Maybe you know why and would share the why...
> > SG: one perhaps builds sandcastles until there is no longer
> > an attachment to building and creating a structured form ......
> > Inspirations may be wrapped up in sandcastles .....
> > perhaps at that point one simply creates them out of the joy of
> > the moment..... not expecting them to last but simply for the
> > beauty and joy of spontaneous art and motion which flows from
> > the Bliss of Being here now in this place in this moment .......
> > it needs not carry behind it some representation or hidden
> > meaning it simply is as it is Beautiful and sacred within it's own
> > right.......
> > then as in all things (this creation of the moment) simply falls
> > away so that another image may take its place
> > First one goes beyond the transient unfolding play before it is
> > fully understood and appreciated for what it is ....... then one
> > steps back into the lila and play simply Enjoying that lila as an
> > expression of Infinite Love in motion........
> > Formless or Form it is the same Essense
> > minus the distinguishing factors .....
> > SG: hahahahaha perhaps so .... everything proceeds from
> > Source and returns to Source in some manner......
> > Infinite Love
> 1. There are pictures of this sandcastle building: faded square
> photographs with radiused corners, the blues and greens and sand
> colors of photographs from that time, the reds always slightly
> pungent, as if the pigment were wired and erratic, unsure of its
> place in the film. There we are, squatting in the sand: my blond-
> haired mother, sitting aside, arm around the barrel-chest of the
> small grey dog; my father and a very small I sitting together,
> scraping sand into forms. What the photograph barely hints at is the
> joy of building that sandcastle, part enjoyment of the sand and
> water, part thrill and satisfaction of building it with my father.
> What the photograph doesn't contain is what came later. After
> building it, I felt so much happiness and pride; we played in the
> water, and I kept looking back to see that sandcastle sitting before
> the waves. Then the two boys came, stepping into the sandcastle,
> crushing it. I cried salt tears to the sea, inconsolable, and unable
> to explain or even understand that the greatest loss was not the
> sandcastle, but what the sandcastle represented.
> 2. We like to go early to the beach, before the beach patrol comes on
> line, and let our dogs run off leash. One morning, on the way back,
> we are walking close to the dunes, past a sandcastle left above the
> tide line. One of the dogs stalks the sandcastle, circling it,
> sniffing it carefully, as if the castle might move. She notes the
> hollow center of the castle, and daintily scratches it with one paw,
> once, twice. Moving within the hollow, she begins to dig, throwing
> large arcs of sand beneath and behind her, very efficiently deepening
> the hollow. Sufficiently inspired, she leaps from the castle, and
> runs circles on the beach. She is amazing, lean muscle and arching
> back, her earth-pounding feet carrying her so close to us on her
> returns that her breath is heard and wake is felt.
> 3. After the walk, I remain on the beach after the others return
> home. The sun is coming up, pink and orange, and the sky is humid and
> a thick blue-grey. The moon is still out, and a few stars, but are
> gradually fading in a sky that is approaching their brilliance. I
> stand within the laps of the waves, and look out to the rocking
> shrimp boats, and the long, thin horizon beyond. With each receding
> wave, the water draws sand from beneath the edges of my feet.
> Eventually, I am balancing on two pyramids beneath my arches. I find
> that if I am not perfectly balanced through the soles of my feet as
> these pyramids form, that eventually I must cling to the tops of the
> pyramids with the muscles of my legs, lest my feet slide from the
> pyramids. I stand for a long while like this, trying on new pyramids,
> learning as a matter of course what it is to be perfectly balanced
> within my soles, and how transparent and effortless that feels,
> watching the night suns recede as I am warmed by the heat advancing
> in the eastern sky. At some point, the shrimp boats disappear, and I
> take that as my cue to leave.
> Thanks for your letter, SG.