04-23-2018, 12:01 AM
During recapitulation yesterday, the historical scenes being reviewed/recovered where interspersed with intensely energetic visions....mostly abstractions of color. Then, I see an image of a young girl in a blue dress playing on her own out on a sidewalk in her neighborhood. She is doing something with her hands. My visual perspective draws closer, and is see that each of her hands have been replaced by this void-like space within which is this blurring, multicolored, fractal of circular motion, creating a thrumming, boiling mandala of movement....spinning, spinning, spinning at high speed....moving this way and that, shifted from one plane, rotating to another, propelled by her arms....by her union with intent.
The body likes to move, its obvious. I like to move. Sometimes with form as with Tensegrity....Tsa Lung....purposeful breaths with hand held mudras....Buddhist prostrations....Qigong. And sometimes without form letting the winds of intent direct the motion (seems random....but its really not, is it?) Form or formless....the intent is to align with intent at large in the universe. To disappear, as best I can, into that vast intelligence. Poetry in motion as abstract affection
The body likes to move, its obvious. I like to move. Sometimes with form as with Tensegrity....Tsa Lung....purposeful breaths with hand held mudras....Buddhist prostrations....Qigong. And sometimes without form letting the winds of intent direct the motion (seems random....but its really not, is it?) Form or formless....the intent is to align with intent at large in the universe. To disappear, as best I can, into that vast intelligence. Poetry in motion as abstract affection