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.
Read More →
I’ve talked here before about writing being a kind of composting technique, or maybe the listening to smaller voices than the ones we’re most used to. Here’s another definition of this strange, lonesome art: Archaeology.
It was written way back in the heady days of 2014, when we all knew that the world was hurtling, but it somehow felt like we might be skating with at least one set of wheels on the ground. I was probably mistaken about that (35 is still such a tender number, despite what I may have thought at the time) but I find myself sniffing at these threads which are becoming more prevalent every day that I live in the Future Now. Extinction. Ecology. Mental Health. You know the drill.
# # #
: Sometimes I don’t know what’s worse, the thought that the future doesn’t exist, or that it does and I am entirely unsuited to it.
: Despite the imminence of our own extinction; I still, even today with our blind shot-put economy, apologist creeds and the politbureau of short-termism – I risk believing in delight. Which is the same as saying that I risk hope, that I believe that the caged bird sings for good reason; and perhaps delight is one of the few eternals. It is a-priori and everlasting, and affirmation that life is worth living and that the future is worth traveling towards.
Even if it is ultimately untrue; delight, joy, pleasure, satisfaction and communication are ties that build you a world, memory by memory, taste by taste.
Between these two, my heart breaks: On one side the eternalism of delight and the promise of humanities’ ability to adapt both emotionally and socially to the dark days of the future. On the other the inevitability of the collapse; the sense that we are all living on borrowed time; the fall of ecosystems; the rise of noise and confusion and static over diversity and opportunity.
Between these two~
# # #