22 March 2024

Lost Post: Postcard Collective Winter 2019 series, "Practice Makes...."


I read you loud and clear.
Roger? Roger? Roger?

...to communicate with someone is to effect some form of change in their store of experiences. This change may affect their level of perception, their way of seeing things, their information bank and even their pattern of behavior

There comes a time in the course of human events when it becomes self evident we have armor in our chinks, but the voices cannot get through. Somehow, there is always a commercial on, and our voices crying in the technological wilderness are gone with the wind. Something there is that does not like a wall. Let's join hands and see if we can find another world.


So. We shiver, lonely in the cold winter of a technological culture, standing on the runway with a dollar in our hand, while at the same time the warmth is within mind's reach. But may the mind not be a way to breach the wall? Think of what delights may be on the other side!
Come along?

We all, in one way or another, send our little messages out into the world.
We say, "Help me, I'm lonely"
"Take me, I'm available."
"Leave me alone, I'm depressed."
And rarely do we send our messages consciously. We act out our state of being with nonverbal body language. We lift one eyebrow in disbelief. We rub our noses in puzzlement. We clasp our arms to isolate or to protect ourselves. We shrug shoulders for indifference, wink one eye for intimacy, tap our fingers for impatience, slap our forehead for forgetfulness.

Lest we be too critical of ourselves, let us remember that this poorly endowed creature no other behavior would have insured its survival for hundreds of thousands of years. The rude stones \finally proliferated into the tools of the industrial revolution; it became quite possible for man to produce every material he deeded, and even most of the things he could want (an important distinction). The ages of scarcity had passed. But the old, compulsive reactions continued.

The limits of our language mean the limits of our world. A new world is the beginning of a new language. A new language is the seed of a new world.

But he was but part of a whole.
He shared the planet with billions of other beings whose species history had still not been figured out. He could not know on what adventure they were embarked; he could only accompany the trek as far as he could go. This was a thing to fear. The same life force each individual represented had lives in a thousand guises, again and again; in crystals, in limestone shells and scales and feathers and fur.
He had -- and has -- only one responsibility. That is to keep the system going . And this, unfortunately, is exactly what he is doing. He is destroying the only habitat he has and he can plead 'survival' as an excuse.
We can now reconstruct the past to see how we managed to be stranded on this rapidly shrinking island.

If we knew what went wrong, there may still be time to do something about it -- the contamination of the air, the water, the entire surface of the globe he brought about.
The pulse of sirens, distant trains,
the throbbing echo of some unseen horn,
muted conversations that forward of
journeys, passing strangers, doom or
joy; all the portent once
revealed by gypsies as they
read the whisper in your hand.
It seemed a time when one by one
the stars were blinking out --
and men at last had time
to doubt whatever anxious
passion made them
build a thing from
which they had to run.

You heard, but all the same
you turned away....

I can't hear you.




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