start here
go farther
take a step
and stumble
and when your stumble
youre swaying, darlin
not fallin behind
youre dancin, baby
its all in good time
and good
pleasure
you may do this
forever
you may do this
all your life
whatever happens,
darlin
you
make
up
your
mind
and
get
into
your
body
it feels i havent written in ages
i may have forgotten how to string the words together like this
speaking requires no forethought on my part
like the words are water, waiting to pour out once i open my mouth
but here with the blinking cursor again, i get scared
i go still and become mindful of the words and so they dont come
not in the way im used to anyway
instead of pouring, they trickle
slow then fast, changing as i type
can i accept it all as it comes?
can i stay my critical hand?
and let myself write?
forget everything they told me?
forget my flaws?
as if i were a kid again, before they turned my mind against me?
i must
if i am to tell the story of the watering hole
how it came to be
how its going
how i feel a future of many such places
all connected by invisible streams flowing between us
familiar paths through the woods
emptying us out into some new pond
with rocks weve never seen before
and water of another color and shape but same great taste
refreshing days
"all watched over by machines of loving grace"
many years ago, a professor of mine handed me a copy of richard brautigan's the abortion
in the story, the narrator works and lives at a library in san francisco, ca, which is open 24/7 tho the doors do lock at some point when he goes to sleep, but there is a doorbell one can ring to have the doors opened to you at any hour
and this library didn't house any book you'd heard of before
it was a library of handmade, unpublished books
books written by people in crayon about growing plants in a closet by candlelight
and when they dropped them off they signed the guestbook and put their book anywhere on the shelves they liked
and they left, and there the book would stay
the world that would give rise to a library like this
would have to appreciate the amateur in a way our world hasnt as of yet
would have to cherish what springs from the dirt instead of what is extracted from it with precision tools and refined into precious metals
brautigan envisioned this kind of world with the eyes of a lover
and he knew it loved him back, that because he could see it, it was meant for him
a world of tenderness instead of ruthlessness
a world of strange sincerity instead of apathy
i believe this world exists
that brautigan carried it with him and that is why his works resonated with the peace and love movement in the 60s and 70s when he was publishing
i carry it too and that is why i have kept brautigan close
and at some point, in exploring his works, i came across this poem:
"I like to think (and
the sooner the better!)
of a cybernetic meadow
where mammals and computers
live together in mutually
programming harmony
like pure water
touching clear sky.
I like to think
(right now, please!)
of a cybernetic forest
filled with pines and electronics
where deer stroll peacefully
past computers
as if they were flowers
with spinning blossoms.
I like to think
(it has to be!)
of a cybernetic ecology
where we are free of our labors
and joined back to nature,
returned to our mammal
brothers and sisters,
and all watched over
by machines of loving grace."
brautigan believed in his bones that the tech of the coming age and we humans could harmonize, that it could help us return to the land instead of raping it!
i have dreamed the same dream
and this here watering hole is my offering to that dream
my prayer written in amateur code
may we all begin to partake in the great turning
from platforms to fire pits
from pay walls to pirates
from algorithm to found objects
from ownership to shared-trusts
from apathetic slavery to copacetic ekstasis
and here's how we get there (by no means an exhaustive list):
- finding and switching to free and open source alternatives to any and all software that is mining our data, raiding our attention, and/or feeding the monster that is pillaging the earth
- finding and switching to free or affordable and sustainable goods and services
- quitting or quiet quitting jobs that drain and pollute our wells (both figurative and literal wells), or subverting from within the jobs we cannot bare to leave and insisting they change their practices
- create less waste and create more art! cheap art! free art!
- give things away
- ask for and recieve help
- loose the shame from your body!
- go out and meet new people doing new things with new hope
- curate your life toward your most lofty ideals by telling everyone you know about them and finding others who share the same cause...anything is possible when you know youre not alone
- allow yourself to let go of tethers to the old world that are experienced like collars and leashes
- build your capacity for trust
- build your capacity for desire
- build
- and play without ceasing
in the foothills of the white mountains,
in the year of the fire horse,
a village...
the people - spread across forests,
around lakes and riverbanks
- struggle to feel the village
this is the watering hole
a hub or bulletin for the people
to find support, opportunity,
to lend a hand
the village is taking shape
so dream with me and submit
poetry, prose, art, plans
and let the village become
a living and shared conception