“Most of us think of ourselves as thinking creatures that feel, but we are actually feeling creatures that think.”
- Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor -
On the rising song line of this morning. Glorious dawn. Songs playing in the music box in my head... shared via internet... a rehearsal recording, raw, rough, glorious in all the views... on the rising song line of this morning. The road rising to greet with a song, good companions and a stop just around the corner... on the rising song line.
Early in ranching, actually, over and over again, a decision point comes. The point where, after all thinking, analysis, prototyping, there is a moment of deciding. Realizing that each day is many of those points. The delight in that realization. So, as early so now. The learning does not stop. The more I learn. The less I know. That is a good moment.
Thinking of Napa, surrounding area and foundational shaking. When the very foundations of life shake. When we then respond by demanding more secure foundations. Which, are not a foundation but the keel of the boat that is the building. The sea upon which it sails is the land... We demand a stronger keel against a sea that may be moving in a storming direction. The application of a solution to a system that has more flex at different points. All of this makes no difference if the roof has collapsed. It is the shelter and the people of who I think at this moment.
"The Timeless Way of Building" by Christopher Alexander leapt off the shelf a couple of days ago. I backed into this book after reading the "A Pattern Language" ... Mathematician, builder, architect, philosopher, wonderful story teller, ... Chris Alexander, the day I met him, was wearing a rumpled coat, a wide knit tie, and as we walked, he and his wife were discussing travel plans that had gone far afield from plan. We, the three of us, laughed at the thought as we waited for the light to change. This was the first of three morning visits on the way to a meeting. We repeated the visits in the late afternoon too. The simple sharing of travel plans gone far afield... laughter. Bemused laughter.
As I opened the timeless way... all that sharing poured into memory. The words took on new meaning from the point of view of shared moment. And it is as if I had never read the book and that I have always known the book. It happens with songs sometimes. Heard or sung, a song can trigger that pouring into memory. This day, on the rising song line, that burbling stream of pouring memory brings a smile and a head tip to promethium charm, humor and bemused grace.