I’ve totally neglected sharing these with you, so here’s the latest gem for the weekend Film Night. It’s still kinda related to the stuff that we were looking at before. In short, there are many ways that a lived- and living- connection to the Land resists capital, and this film focuses on regenerative ecology.
Weeell, as you may know, I have been hammering away at the Next Shiny Thing, another novel (CODENAME: Not-so-cozy) and have had to set it down to have a long think and reorder. In the meantime though, the Cityverse has some iiinteresting things in development, and for my own projects I appear to be writing Ecology/Joanna Macy inspired spoken-word/slam poetry.
Breathe, I remind myself.
I’m standing on the uncompromising concrete of some western town, surrounded by glass and stop lights and hurried, tight faces. The world feels cold, and cruel, and small.
No, REALLY breathe, I have to say. Right down to the gut and back. Let it out slowly.
There. It feels better, don’t it?
I have to do this. I have to give these little moments to myself, to sprinkle them through the day like wildflowers. I like to think that there’s a thing that happens when we remember the gifts we carry: that the world feels more open somehow, more comforting, more exciting.
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Another earlier-written piece, again back in 2014, I think. Communitas was an idea talked about by anthropologists Turner and Gennep, which refers to a natural sense of togetherness and sociality that acts as psychic glue for healthy communities.
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Like sunlight breaking out from behind the clouds, this feeling falls on you. Community; family—a sudden and wild recognition of something shared that was not asked for, but happened anyway. I imagined that there was something of what those old Church Revivalists might have felt when they were swept up in rapturous dancing, laughing, or singing in tongues as the Spirit moved through them.
But unlike what I imagine those ceremonies to be, this dancing in the center of the mine, and on the motorways, and the singing before police lines didn’t feel like a blessing being bestowed from on high. It was like a gift rising up, from the stamping of our feet, from the earth beneath us, awakened by our willingness to put our bodies where they felt needed. It feels instead as if people are batteries [or solar chargers perhaps] and if you get enough of them in the right place, at the right time, all intent on the same cause, then…
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