Listen to the hummingbird.

Listen to the hummingbird.

Listen  to the hummingbird.

Whose wings you cannot see

Listen to the hummingbird

Don't listen to me.

Listen to the butterfly

Whose days but number three

Listen to the butterfly

Don't listen to me.

Listen to the mind of God

Which doesn't need to be

Listen to the mind of God

Which doesn't need to be

Don't listen to me.

Listen to the hummingbird

Whose wings you cannot see

Listen to the hummingbird

Don't listen to me

Leonard Cohen.

Listening to the humming bird

I was lying in my bath, eyes closed, listening to Leonard Cohen's last album "Thanks for the dance".

I got out, got dried, got dressed.

I was reading academic articles on my phone, filing them for future reference....

As so often, the act of choosing boxes for ideas, becomes tortuous...

So there I am being orderly, working on three conference submissions for the end of the week, with people in four different countries.  

We had pretty much sorted out the author combinations, the lenses through which we would be observing our contexts.

Or at least I thought that we had...

We could have stopped there. 

But the more we look, the more we see.

But the more we speak, the more we hear.

But the more we know, the less we know.

The choices of lenses appeared to be changing daily.

Over time more connections and disconnections appear. 

As we work together from our for ever changing respective positions, the more we are asking ourselves about whose voices are foregrounded, whose names are named, whose stories are told, whose languages are heard, whose translations are accepted and what forms best represent a momentary convergence of divergent sense making.

I go and find a screenshot of a quotation shared in Maha and Shyam's article:
Bonds of difference, participation as inclusion.

We have a deadline, that is straightfoward.

We have a word and time limit that is straightforward.

We can rest in peace, there will be a moment when it/they will be pasted into a dialogue box.

Then the fun starts...

How shall we perform polyphony?

How shall we represent complexity?

Who is we? 

We are the world.

Pffff....

USA for Africa...proudly presents:

Since when was America, Britain, Belgium, France, Germany, Italy, China, Russia et al there for Africa? 

Well they have been there for all that Africa could be exploited for, minerals, territory, slaves for the cane.

• The New Scramble for Africa: how China became a partner of choice
• Russia and the new scramble for Africa.

Globally then, « we are the world. »

I note the NASA perspective of this, their globe, in the intro to the "We are the world video".

That's it: Trump inadvertently speaks truth, SPACE FORCE:

Star Trek was always a projection of power....a military project.

Those ages, past, present, future of heroic discovery, exploration, exploitation....

I find an article about Bruno Latour's theatrical performance  entitled "Moving Earths."

I am reminded of our co-performance at a conference in Krakow which attempted to express 

"Lived experience of connected practice." recounted here by my friend Teresa.

Is theatre a means to enable Polyphony? 

What is the difference, actually, between a formal lecture in an amphitheatre and a theatrical performance in an amphitheatre? 

"All the world is not, of course, a stage, but the crucial ways in which it isn't are not easy to specify."

Erving Goffman.

Dismembering complexity.

I am working with others on a book chapter.

We are faced with the impossibility of dismembering a complex entanglement of relationship-reality for the sake of academic convenience.

Must we accept that form trumps content?

We write that we are not able to comply with such a simplification of our complex reality.

We hope that they will understand (accept our divergent realities).

We are working on a book chapter with one or is it two or three or four colleagues, and trying to untangle who is lead author, who is co-author, who is credited as being co-author.

We hope that they will understand (accept our realities).

Well we hope, and sometimes we are accepted for what we are for a moment.

Authentically Insoumis....

Taking a few mindful steps back, I express myself with a higher level of abstraction than words enable.  

It's not a planned methodological choice, it comes as a spontaneous doodle.

I draw myself engrossed in nature. 

I sense not fragmentation but fractalisation, belonging, a being grounded, down to earth.

I find an article: « The Planet: An emergent matter of spiritual concern. »  

When I speak of changing the world, I am not thinking of a globe.

Planetary concerns are beyond me.

I am thinking of the world in and within which I have made meaningful relationships.

I am not viewing from above.  I am not looking for global reach. I am looking for local impact.

I am viewing from within and mapping meaning here to find my path through my improbably forested world.

“The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.”

Albert Einstein

There it is, I scribble my wordless world onto a page.

I feel the hesitation, I take time to depict neurones sparking.

I am seeing grey matter becoming transformed into green matter, I am seeing forest and feel belonging.

There is no would, there is a strange will.

I can't really claim authorship, ownership, choice.

Lines of interdepence, lines of communication, an ecosystem of reflection.  

I am, no, on reflection, I is only being, here reflected in this abstract chaotic world.

It would be so much easier to reduce complexity of creation and claim control, claim responsibility.

It is beyond me.

I feel no desire to sign it off.

Signing, signifying, signing, signifying possession, signifying power, signing words, signing facile meaning, signing order, signing posts, signing authenticity, signing with a signature, an individual signature.

"If there is one word that makes creative people different from others, it is the word complexity. Instead of being an individual, they are a multitude. Like the color white that includes all colors, they tend to bring together the entire range of human possibilities within themselves. Creativity allows for paradox, light, shadow, inconsistency, even chaos -and creative people experience both extremes with equal intensity."

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

I am suddenly reminded of Criss-crossing  of the insanity of order, of Book-Keeping.

Then my mind was fluttering from moment to moment, from order to disorder.

Juggling.

I am up too early in the morning, juggling
in my head.

This is what researching complexity does to you  - you find yourself with two many balls spinning around in your brain.





Fuck it.

I dropped an F word.

I have diminished responsibility.

Sorry.

Some of those balls have been thrown into the air by others.

Stop it, stop it, bloody stop it.

There it is.

I dropped a B word.

It's your fault.

There are too many of them now.

All at once.

Damn.

I dropped a D word.

I keep trying, but I need to practice more to keep it up.

"Cheers."

Damn that Nietzshe.

What was it Sarah was saying the other day?

She had dream dialogues with a dead German philosopher.

Well as long as he left her to sleep and he didn't wake her up.

I am beyond dreaming.

I am regretfully awake.

At half past four in the morning.

I woke up to go and paste the juggling photo on a conference presentation.

That's what was keeping me up.

Up till midnight transcribing a conversation with a young teacher in a bar.

What was it that he said at the beginning of the dialogue?

"Cheers."

Then the conversation went on for another fifty two minutes.

"Cheers."

I have done eleven minutes of transcription.

It took me an hour.

"Cheers."

So here I am.

I have all these bloody balls in my head.

Some of them are nodes on networks - people, stories, discourses, smartphones, classrooms.

Others are spread out over time.

Others you need a zoom lens to see and study.

I have turned into some sort of biologist with a microscope.

I have turned into some sort of naturalist in a hide listening to bird song, watching a fox, watching an owl, watching a boar eating acorns, watching me, watching me.

I keep my head low, I wear camouflage for fear that I will disturb the wildlife.

Is this my bloody hide?

It will get me skinned.

Touches of sense?

Touches of madness rather.

It was Waldrop that set it off.

Well he dropped a bloody ball.

Well God...you have to blame somebody.

And muggins here picked it up.

And now it's spinning around in my head.

At dawn.

At.

At.

"The edge of chaos, the constantly shifting battle zone between stagnation and anarchy, the one place where a complex system can be spontaneous, adaptive and alive."
Mitchell Waldrop.

That's where I find myself at four forty eight in the morning.

At the edge of chaos.

I size it up.

I keep my eye on the ball.

I am clearly alive.

This is spontaneous.

I suppose this is some sort of  adaptive action.

I am alive.

But uncomfortably awake.

But, Mitchell did say "battle zone"... 

Desperation.

November 13th 2015.

Some die.

I am missing them.

I am missing them.

I am missing my friends out there.

In no particular order.

They keep popping up in my head.

Where's that juggling gif that I made?

There it is.

I thought it would come in some day.

It's a bit rough.

It will do.

Blimey, why did I choose those pictures?

I can't remember.

I am missing my friends out there.

In no particular order.

Terry, Kevin, Sarah, Wendy, Maha, Mia, Ken, Keith, Ron, Alan....uncle Tom Cobbley et al.

I could go on.

I'll be back.

Online....Offline, I have been juggling.

Incommunicado.

Concentrating on getting those balls up.

I have been juggling.

Stop throwing me bloody balls!

I already have too many.

I know they are juggling too.

My friends...that is.

I have been juggling.

But not here.

Not visibly.

I am juggling now.

On paper.

In my head.

Silently.

I am looking forward to having more play time.

No. I am looking forward to less solitary games.

Too many balls in my head.

I have been quiet quite a while.

The conference presentation is almost ready.

I am almost ready.

Learning on the edge of chaos...

Trying to map a route with/through complexity ain't easy.

It ain't easy.

It won't go in straight lines.

There are too many curve balls to catch.

Sod it.

That's my limit.

There's those students to throw a few balls to.

They can juggle too.

For me, for them, for you.

We all drop off eventually.

I am hoping this will help me drop off.

For an hour and forty minutes.

What was it that Nietzsche was saying?

Seeds for change.

Most comments go unread.

Most questions go unanswered.

Most efforts go unrewarded.


Most cries go unheard.

Most pleas go unheeded.

Most lessons go unlearnt. 

Most.................go un.................

Most ................go un................

Most ................go un................

Most.................go un................

Shift Change.

Seeds for change.

I was reading Terry Elliott's recent blog post "Seeds for change."

It's not very long.

It contains the germ of an idea.

"It might seem a lot for a little, but what I have bought is strong signal. Seeds are information beacons. I want to know if my soil fits that info. Will it sprout readily, will it take root well, will it winter, will it tolerate the oft-wet, sandy, jackrock soil? Each seed is a small story waiting to be heard."

Terry Elliott

Seeds for change.

The idea of being attentive to a complex, fragile, ecosystem.

The faith to invest one's energy in the faint hope of something growing.

Curiosity to learn what will take root, what will sprout.

Seeds for change.

I cast out a few ideas.

A story of bilingual rock-climbing sprouted via Facebook and seeded in other fields.

A story of craft chocolate appeared in the classroom, contained in a large carrier bag.

A story of athletes kneeling was murmuring around the rooms.


Seeds for change.

The idea of being attentive to a complex, fragile, ecosystem.

The faith to invest one's energy in the perhaps faint hope of something growing.

Curiosity to learn what will take root, what will sprout.


Seeds for change.

"It might seem a lot for a little, but what I have bought is strong signal. Seeds are information beacons. I want to know if my soil fits that info. Will it sprout readily, will it take root well, will it winter, will it tolerate the oft-wet, sandy, jackrock soil? Each seed is a small story waiting to be heard."

Terry Elliott

Seeds for change pic.twitter.com/leUQOE1bON

— Simon Ensor (@sensor63) September 27, 2017

At last...

Look. They are just thistles.

It's just a wasteland.

But it mattered to me at that moment.

It matters to me now.



I stopped.

I framed.

I paid attention.

Thistles. Just thistles. No arty filters.

It was just another day.

Today.

I was caught between conflicting feelings.

"Fuck it all."

"I'll read that book."

That book by that well connected, well respected, well accepted peer.

I reviewed the choices.

"Fuck it all."

That book.

"Pay attention to those students." 
"Show them you are there"

I was here.

Conflicting feelings....

Conflicting feelings...

Power to choose.

I chose the students.

A considered choice it was.

I took the spreadsheet.

The students couldn't do that.

Data.

Just fucking data.

It wouldn't really have mattered.

They were just students.

I clicked on a link.

It was a person, a real person.

A person with fears, hopes, expectations...

No expectations...

Low expectations...

A person, with memories, with stories, with stories to write.

"Fuck it all."

What is more important?

It clicked.

This wasn't really work.

It was life.

LIFE.

I got caught up in the joy, the curiosity, the responsibility that was a click away.

I clicked, I measured my words, I wanted the moment to count.

I am just a teacher.

They were just thistles.

She was just a student.

Make it fucking count.

I counted.

I even timed it.

With a fucking iPhone.

It took me two hours.

At last...

Two hours for twenty people.

I calculated.

6 minutes per person.

What counts?

How long is a song?

You don't need so much time.

A word, a reference, a link, a picture, a song.

Just a word.

Just a second.

Just a déclic.

Just a song.

"Fuck it all."

Another person.

Binoche.

Her again.

I shall go and Google her here.

Touches of sense...

There was a teacher they were talking about.

She was talking about her.

Being her.

For the other person.

For her.

So many years after.

At last...

There was a song on the TV.

I posted it here.

To mark the moment.

To remember an instant.

AT LAST.

"Fuck it all."

I'll read the book after.

I'll do the paper, the conference after.

What counts?

The applause?

The status?

The money?

Touches of sense...

I received a couple of mails.

Just students.

They said: "Thank you."

In so many words.

Nothing else.

Counts.

Interstellar on TV.

I am not watching.

I am writing.

I am aware of...

Etta James on Youtube.

Jazz chilling out on the sofa.

Another day.

I am here.

This was life.

This event is brought to you by...

This event is brought to you by... @hj_dewaard @WarwickLanguage @ken_bauer @Bali_Maha pic.twitter.com/QtbqzAPMp7

— Simon Ensor (@sensor63) August 23, 2017

A post event reflection.

Structured unpredictably...

A gif of dynamic systems.

"If one has to start anywhere..."

"Will this animation move when published." He wonders.

"Will it just become static on the net?"

"Whatever."

I keep trying to figure out where this should start.

Narrative(s) attempt(s) fail unmanageable reality.

It will have to do.

Such universal failings are, after all, what connect us.

Darkness that binds us.

"How do I express this with ever-changing feeling?"

"Oh damn it."

This is absurd.

“Writing has nothing to do with meaning. It has to do with landsurveying and cartography, including the mapping of countries yet to come.”  

Gilles Deleuze

"Fuck IT."

"Fuck Google."

It's all we have.

A fragile agency... 

"A speckulation?"

"I'd like to thank my mother, my father."

"I'd like to thank (GOD?)... er those who missed attempting to kill my grandfather in the war."

This is brought to you by...

A dog barking?

I hurriedly pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and a tshirt.

Modesty saved.

This is brought to you by...

FEDEX

"Do you have ID?" 

I went back for my passport and signed off the parcel slip.

This is brought to you by...

The cable for my laptop.

At two o'clock in the morning attempting hamfistedly...

 "Why do we say that?"

I type a blog post on a smartphone...

I lose the contents of the post three times.

(INSERT: I fall upon a post of Maha talking about the difficulties of dealing without her laptop in the US because of a ban, I think of her while writing this now.)

This is brought to you by...

What was lost.

Sleep. 

A laptop with POWER.

This is brought to you by...

A caring community.

This is brought to you by...

A Slack backchannel.

"I am sorry, my laptop has died on me, I won't be able to set up the session for Eurocall tomorrow."

This is brought to you by....

A response from Helen DeWaard over in Ontario.

At virtually no notice, Helen really backs me up for Virtually Connecting at Eurocall.

She will share her? Google's?  our? POWER to allow? to enable?  us to hang out in Southhampton.

"What about Saturday?"

Ken Bauer, over in Mexico silently interrupts a meeting at his daughter's high school to offer help.

On Saturday, he will be up for 5:00 am in the morning.

This is brought to you by....

Friendship, fellowship, faith, love, hope....a belief in something bigger than each one of us.

This is brought to you by....

Teresa Mackinnon  she offered to be an onsite buddy at Eurocall.

This is brought to you by...

Steve Wheeler  who mentored me on his blog...like so many others.

This is brought to you by....

Rhizomatic learning...Dave Cormier...

"A rhizome has no beginning or end; it is always in the middle, between things, interbeing, intermezzo."

This is brought to you by...

Rhizo14

"Will it ever end?"

"No...nooo!"

Martina Emke started it. 

She kept bringing up rhizomes.

We hadn't even gone live yet.

"A rhizome has no beginning or end; it is always in the middle, between things, interbeing, intermezzo."

I met Maha Bali, Apostolos Koutropoulos, so that's a sort of start to this story here.

"A rhizome has no beginning or end; it is always in the middle, between things, interbeing, intermezzo."

Rhizo15

"A rhizome has no beginning or end; it is always in the middle, between things, interbeing, intermezzo."

(I tire of fighting with html formating. It's small. It's small. )

"Fuck it."

This is brought to you by....

A common language...

POWER embodied? disembodied? 

POWER to order chaos? to give semblance of order to chaos? to command? to touch?

POWER to include? to exclude? 

This is brought to you by....

A language.

"An Open Educational Resource" offered AK.

This is brought to you by...

A keynote recording.

"Will it be available openly?" I asked.

"Well what's the point of putting it on a website if it is not available openly?" Martina responded.

"Academic publishing etc....?" I countered?

But will it be accessible?

Will the language be accessible?

This is brought to you by....

My interest in language learning.

It led me to reflect.

The more I reflected, the more I was led to experts.

This is brought to you by...

Reading articles by Steven Thorne made accessible via Research Gate.

I fell upon a conversation which spoke to me.

Little, D., & Thorne, S. L. (2017). From Learner Autonomy to Rewilding: A Discussion

This was accessible.

A recognisable conversation between recognisable humans. 

Humans. Speaking English.

This is brought to you by....

An ex-student and reluctant academic.

I remembered being a student at university.

I remembered struggling with what seemed to me to be densely alien gibberish.

"Why can't they just speak bloody English?" I remember complaining intolerantly.

"Why do they need all these barbaric terms?" I remember thinking.

I think of attitudes to scientists.

"Britain has had enough of experts," says Gove.

This is brought to you by...

Reading articles by Steven Thorne and other experts on the complex reality of language learning.

Chapter 10. Dynamic Systems Theory as a comprehensive theory of second language development

This is brought to you by....

Combining blogging with reflective practice.

Towards complexity-informed language teaching in higher education.

To what extent is it possible to adopt “complexity-informed perspectives” (Mercer, 2013) for language teaching in higher education? Considering the classroom as a complex adaptive system (Larsen-Freeman, 1997; Ellis & Larsen-Freeman, 2009), we use mixed methods adapted from Nexus Analysis (Scollon & Scollon, 2004) to explore evolving ecologies of learning (Van Lier, 2010) in a French university language centre’s English classes for non-specialist undergraduate and postgraduate students. Using qualitative and quantitative survey, pedagogical programs, capture of interactions: photo, video, and learner portfolios, we trace discourses in place and interaction orders. We study teacher and learner reflection, narratives and interview to highlight divergent perceptions of affordances. We observe how network-connected technology offers the potential to modify pedagogical practices and assessment in the classroom, to better respect learner diversity and to “situate learning” (Lave & Wenger, 1991; Gee, 2004) in diverse contexts, to facilitate observation and analysis of learners and learning activities. We attempt to identify “core components of the system - hubs where the effect of change is more likely to spread throughout the system” both of the learner and the institution (Mercer, 2013).  If research may enable us to identify “general principles which language educators can use to guide their actions” (Tudor, 2003), analysis of individual stories illustrates the complex, unpredictable, emergent nature of learning. What strategies might teachers adopt to facilitate dramatic progress in learning? In an institutional context ordered by program outcomes, marking grids, and time constraints, learners may be more concerned with gaming the system for credit rather than actually learning a language. Teachers’ “historical bodies” (Scollon and Scollon, 2004): experiences, beliefs, attitudes, competences,  and time and or financial constraints may enable or limit their desire or means to adapt practices. Going forward, we consider it essential to develop connected, reflective communities of exploratory practice (Allwright, 2003) including learners, teachers and researchers to work towards manageable pedagogical solutions and the recognition of diverse perspectives, competences and roles.

This is brought to you by....

A growing feeling of becoming part of academic communities.

Thanks to people that I can share common VALUES with.

Despite past feelings of disgust for everything academia.

"What are you?" He scowled.

This is brought to you by...

Something greater than the sum of its parts.

"What is it that brings us to work together here in these spaces?" Wonders Apostolos.

Words emerge chaotically.

This is brought to you by...

Virtually connecting, really connecting people who really desire to connect.

Had a fab conv w @stevenlthorne on #SocialJustice Thx @hj_dewaard @sensor63 @VConnecting for making this happen #EUROCALL2017 #UKVisa denied pic.twitter.com/yT7xW6CXCK

— Parisa Mehran (@ParisaMehran) August 23, 2017

Can't get 2 #EUROCALL2017 @EurocallLang Convos with @stevenlthorne @shansauro @KBorthwick @WarwickLanguage @sensor63 https://t.co/gdYe7sIhqQ

— Virtually Connecting (@VConnecting) August 18, 2017

This is brought to you by...

An accessibly human American researcher, Steven Thorne packing an hour long keynote into 45 seconds, responding in dynamic whispers so as not to disturb adjacent partner/sponsor event...

"THIS EVENT IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY...."

speaking volumes about social issues in conversation with Parisa Mehran, an Iranian researcher refused a visa to attend Eurocall.

"SHHH!"

This is brought to you by....

Questions from Joe Dale and Teresa Mackinnon to Steven Thorne about how to connect theory to pedagogical practice.

Questions of how to be a teacher in a complex age of change.

("Was there ever an age that was not one of change?")

Questions of how to enable the work of researchers to be accessible.

Questions of what constitutes citizenship in a connected world.

Questions of identity, of language, of meaning, of POWER.

Questions of frontiers, of who defines our boundaries, our bodies, our movement....our lives.

"Teachers have never been so necessary." Steven Thorne.

"Accessibly human, caring, experts have never been so necessary." I think to myself.

"Working together across artificial frontiers has never been so necessary." I conclude.

"On est ensemble dans cette merde. On a chacun sa responsabilité." He thinks in French.

"Working outside the box, inside the box...tricky...hmm" I contemplate.

Postscript.

This is brought to you by....

Vialogues...

Absolutely worth re-listen cause @stevenlthorne talking at 'maximum syllables per second' in this 'unstructured unpredictability' session!

— Helen DeWaard (@hj_dewaard) August 23, 2017

A desire to go back and listen again so as to better act.

Thank you to

Helen, Ken, Maha, Autumm, Vconnecting, Eurocall, Teresa, Kate, Joe, AK, Parisa, Dave, Steve, Steve, Francesca, Uncle Tom Cobley et al. (and er... Google)

From torpor to tango.

Footnote torsion.

A death. 

A drive.

A shudder.

A stride.

A fleeting meeting...of signs.

A glance.

A stroke.

A step.

A glide

A presence, an absinthe of minds.

A part.

A writ.

writhes.

Torpor Footnotes

It's that time of the year when I turn off.  

It was this time of the year the phone turned off...

Well drowned actually

phone drowned now dead dead dead quite dead. #inanimation @wentale #clmooc pic.twitter.com/Xi7f6jELWw

— Simon Ensor (@sensor63) August 10, 2017

Dead.

Done for.

One damn tweet leads to another.

drowning, drowning
bits and bytes
at least we still
have our lives.#clmooc #poetry

— Wendy Taleo (@wentale) August 10, 2017

no life in bits
no breath in bytes
node reply?
no response.
none, nout, noone, néant.
he sighs a cross.#clmooc

— Simon Ensor (@sensor63) August 10, 2017

No life in bytes. #clmooc pic.twitter.com/j4CA64giwb

— Wendy Taleo (@wentale) August 10, 2017

Have at ye. #clmooc pic.twitter.com/2S6BM8CocR

— Terry Elliott (@telliowkuwp) August 10, 2017

An app.

"Hyperspektiv."

A scene from Moulin Rouge.

Played.

Repetitively.

Awake.

Two in the morning.

TANGO.

f f fugue.

Self similar, self evident, fractal self...

"You still draw the same," 

my son said as we looked through the artwork.

"That's yours isn't it?" 

he added in recognition.

A recognizable scribble.

I am BEING reconciled to this frame.

I am BEING reconciled in this frame.

I am BEING reconciled by this frame.

WORD ALIENATION

NOTHING...

NOTHING...

NOTHING...

Fougue, sic fugitive scribble sum est.

I hated Latin.

self similar, self evident, recursive selves...

flee, frames.

Contemplation thanks to Terry Elliott.

Nomadic ruminance.

Preamble

A multivoiced conversation springs from an afternoon picnic with Terry Elliott, shepherd.

https://vialogues.com/vialogues/play/37391

Amble

I can feel the movement slowing, I concentrate on breathing, I feel my muscles relax.  

I am focused on that field.

My fingers hesitate.

RUMI-NANCE

The page backgrounds.

My attention is fixed on time.

Or heart beat?

Seconds...blinking in a cursor.

A lie?

“The timeless in you is aware of life's timelessness. And knows that yesterday is but today's memory and tomorrow is today's dream.” 

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Now. 

Slowed. 

-N-O-W-

LIFE

S-P-A-C-E

Bird Song

RECORD

ONLY

SILENCE

-N-O-W-

The sheep field has become a means to read?
Or to listen?
Or to see?
Or to hear?

"Each field tells a story." 
Terry Elliott

A means to read?

A means to care?

A means to wonder?

A hollow yearning is that?

No! There is joy.

LIFE


"There's another story there: you live in a system that essentially defies understanding."
Terry Elliott


"I can go out on my farm every day and find a mystery."
Terry Elliott

A reason to mourn reason?

"Around the ninth hour, Jesus shouted in a loud voice, saying "Eli Eli lama sabachthani?" which is, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"


"Nature has a way and if nature doesn't want to produce grass you have to get rid of sheep."
Terry Elliott

To throw up one's arms and surrender to the evidence.

"Eli Eli lama sabachthani?"

What counts is not visible, is around us, but beyond us and binds us all.

LOVE

"Nature will make you decide things that you don't want to decide."
Terry Elliott

I decide to do this while I can, while I want.

That sheep field has me write this.

It's the nature of it.

WRITING

"You want a little bit of everything in a field."
Terry Elliott

I am not sure

I pull up a few weeds.

I walk the lines.

LINE

"We have no faith in nature." 

Do you have any faith in human nature?

I have resistant faith.

For if not, what?

It's been raining.

LIFE

I have space to think, to wander, to meander...
 ...to get where I shouldn't be, to vagabond...

FLOW

Je me la coule douce.

VAGABOND

The word breaks up.

"There's another story there: you live in a system that essentially defies understanding."
Terry Elliott

VAGA BOND. 

Vague - Vague - indefinite (English) 

Vague - Wave (French) Sea - Waves - Rhythmic - Tides - Influence of moon - Seasons

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tide

Animation of Tides as Moon Goes Around the Earth With the Sun on The Right

Animation: Todd  Timberlake

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tide#/media/File:Tidalwaves1.gif

Tides are the rise and fall of sea levels caused by the combined effects of gravitational forces exerted by the Moon, Sun, and rotation of the Earth. The semi-diurnal range (the difference in height between high and low waters over about half a day) varies in a two-week cycle. Approximately twice a month, around new moon and full moon when the Sun, Moon, and Earth form a line (a condition known as syzygy), the tidal force due to the sun reinforces that due to the Moon. The tide's range is then at its maximum; this is called the spring tide. It is not named after the season, but, like that word, derives from the meaning "jump, burst forth, rise", as in a natural spring. When the Moon is at first quarter or third quarter, the sun and Moon are separated by 90° when viewed from the Earth, and the solar tidal force partially cancels the Moon's. At these points in the lunar cycle, the tide's range is at its minimum; this is called the neap tide, or neaps (a word of uncertain origin).

Va - Go (French) 

Bond - relate to people - make deepening connections (English)

Bond (jump French)

VA-GAGA-  Go GAGA.

Silly; crazy.

Completely absorbed, infatuated, or excited: They were gaga over the rock group's new album.

Senile; doddering.

BOND - James

Charles Dickens, in "The Old Curiosity Shop" has a character say: 

"a gentleman's word is as good as his bond, sometimes better, as in the present case."

"Agriscience and agribusiness is so apposite to agriculture."
Terry Elliott

"There's another story there: you live in a system that essentially defies understanding."
Terry Elliott

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing 
and rightdoing there is a field.
I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.” 

Jalaluddin Rumi

Image 

Isle of Skye

Richard Ansdell

1865

Oil on canvas.

183 × 108 cm (72 × 42.5 in)

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ansdell_Richard_Isle_of_Syke.jpg