Wednesday, September 28, 2016

If it isn't yet what shall I call it?

I was out driving yesterday, a few things spread across our metropolis wanted finding by me, and maybe it's somehow about that. That ideas about what might be are just sitting out there waiting to be found, not formed even, and it, that state of possibility that is, is about being possible too. Bugger, that doesn't make sense, and somehow I don't think it can... until it's ready to.

And I think quite a few others have found that driving, sitting in a car and watching, can be advantageous in the sense of being inspirative. Maybe it's the betweeness, between theres and heres as in this was this and that'll be that.

Lots of people tend to find nature inspiring and maybe theres something to that but possibly more than that is that they are allowing themselves to just wander, and yes nature can be restful, but as well an expectation that nature is inspirative might make the whole gesture a waste of time as this supposed communication comes from nature when it could very well be that not expecting it, inspiration, it what makes it available and it's far less about the circumstances that might bring it forth.

Me, I was on the motorway first but that just bogged up real quick and I got off at the very first exit, Otahuhu, and kinda meandered... I always take the path of least resistance, whether it be physical or mental. Yesterday it was physical in the sense that as soon as those cars bogged up, made their lines of impatience I just went another way, and given I always have time on my hands I'm not really adverse to wasting it, and I ended up at a place where I used to go years ago, Rosenfeld Kidson which is an exotic timber supplier. I made up an excuse for myself that I'd see if I could find a bit of Maple as it's in the back of my mind somewhere that I'll eventually get back into making guitars, so excuse found I went in and followed my nose.

The sum of that visit was, and I had no idea of this as I wandered about within this cathedral of potential, was as I left after getting a price for one particular piece, which ended up being Cherry, that wood that always tends to remind me of Chekov and Russian springs, I remembered my own great piles of stashed timbers and realised how profoundly rich I am. And that's partly that I recognised, remembered my own great stash of timbers, but also that adding the odd new bit, like adding a notion of a $100.00 bit of Cherry when theres a spare hundie floating about, it all adds up to this richness of having time and space available to actually be my own sense of what rich is.

Ah, even with this meandering writing I do I have an objective except I have no idea how I'm going to get there and yet this wandering has given me a hint as I remember back to yesterday, which already seems so far away, and in that timber place something of my being bouncing off others seems to have made sense. It's as if me just carrying my time about lazily and the possibles I might be accruing even looser it seems to spark off in others a wondering in themselves of what might concern them to hold stuff that way. There was a point I was talking to a chap, not at but around somehow, the appreciation of timber and I mentioned finding my own as packing crates and sawmills being unwilling to go near them for the possibility of old nails left in it and so having to build my own sawmill in the driveway and I, now in hindsight, felt this fellows wondering himself about fixing his old boat to go fishing more.

How is this? I didn't see it yesterday... I'm sure of that, but I know I felt something, an opening, a gap as it were, in the defined wandering towards the yet to be defined... interesting.

Now should I open that up a bit more or go straight to the objective?

The objective I think and it was about the how of realising ones own projecting, the mirroring we all do where the world is us, but in somehow being able to see that but also see beyond that to the reflective reflections... and it's the interference patterns, which are what light does... when it's a wave.

This was actually a couple of weeks ago and for some reason I'd gone back to the experiment with light through slits and where before the slits it was particulate and after the slits it became wave like... it made no sense then and I didn't really need it to but it must have found it's way into what I call the back of my head because yesterday as I passed those mansions of Remuera Rd and wondered why I like them so much it occured to me the question of being reflective and understanding oneself in those reflections was also about seeing beyond the reflections and feeling, seeing, whatever, the reflection reflecting of others and quite suddenly this experiment in light came to me.

And it's an insight but it's an insight still sketchy... but that's it's business and not mine, let it go then and if it wants to come back it might even find me willing, or busy chasing others... and it reminds me too of Pacific navigators, which incidentally makes a certain unquantifiable sense too because the other day I was looking for the Latin of boat and it was navi, but also vessel and ship etc, and, anyways, how the navigators watched the waters for interference patterns. That for most the waves might be doing what waves do and all moving one way except on the edges of those waves are the waves which move underneath and there are layers of these waves going all the way down... that they can see the reflections of the Islands they are wanting to get to.

And, of course, having gotten this far theres something sitting on the edges right now beckoning and playful, some remembered idea or thing which will bring it all together, tantilising... but, it'll come in it's own sweet time, or it won't.

Patience indeed might very well be a virtue.

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