Tuesday, 18 August 2009

Islands of seperation

Notes concerning Olives’ Treatment and more
generalised, the Garden and Kayahan. Nov. 2006

Islands of seperation. They are distraught. They have no rooting. They can not move like that. Not intentionally, to become part of a wider pattern. Can not adjust towards or away from anything. Time stands still. There is loneliness. A fractual seperation of parts to a whole. There is isolation.

These parts must be reintroduced to one another. There may be motion that creates tumults. Even cataclysms. These will come and go. There is the streaming of a course to find the mainstream, into which all flows. Through prolongued seperation, this pouring together is initially hard to monitor. There is a gradual alignment – even a superimposition of the top and the bottom, the left and the right. A folding over like the ends of a cloth, meeting in a wrap-around embrace.

The heart is the emptiness within. The breath rises – a gasping. Then plummets down. A plumb-line converging into gravity. The central pivot of motion in the Sacrum/Abdomen. This creates a grasping, which then springs outwards.
A flourishing back through the breath and heart; the extremities and their expressiveness in fingers, feet, face made viable at all possible levels.
The junction lines; the creases of wrists, ankles, neck are operational, as mini- emblems of the central pivot. Resonance is this. A transferance of effectiveness. The body as an echoed metaphor of one to another. Each part a holographic seizure of the whole.

Our connection of one living entity to another, is the charger. Emotion, the spasm of continuity. The catalyst for this intake and outpouring which is simultaneous and allows for integrity. Love, the simplest and greatest of them all.

So for the islands of seperation there is a cascading of scenarios locked in their different realms, into a form which is the stacking up of these many cards. When emotion ignites movement, form is borne and there is then no seperation.
The fire is lit, anchored in a deeper stream of water. Enactment; the drama of living, is this flourishing out that comes anew at each reinvigorated grasping.
Then there is redistribution of parts that roam and are free but are motivated and responsive to a central intent.

The central intent is a listening within. An environment. A connectedness to all else. Summoning that emanation out and out and sending it back within.
A reverberation. A recall. An acknowledgement from one to another. An interflow. Connection is sweet. It is our life-blood.

No comments:

Post a Comment