Throckmorton Blowfart Esquire IV, 33° An(archist) (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} bitches_tyrone) wrote,@ 2008-01-26 02:57:00 |
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olbrich gardens
went to olbrich gardens today, with a flatmate, out of our minds. and bodies, not that i'd call it an oobe. 80 minutes or so outdoors, with wind chill making it feel maybe zero degrees out. becoming mostly numb, closing my eyes made me feel to be a few somehow interacting centers of awareness: my mind, thumbs and pointer fingers rubbing against one another, and heels, inasmuch as they were hitting the ground. no links between them, but my mind knew where they all were, and each of them where one another were, too.
indoors the plants were all repetitions of what appeared to be one simple pattern (different for each plant, of course), over and over and over (and over and over and over and under), often one leaf unwinding pinwheelesque, very mathematical feeling, the bark being dead outer leaf sheathing inner leaf. leaves basket weaving a tree. never saw anything that looked seed bearing (though looking for a single seed for the origin of one of these might be a bit on the foolish side [but i'm down with folly]). birthed from and of paradox. all these plants without a center, vital energies flowing skywards and waterwards and sidewards. aerial roots. latching and pushing and moving and prying, but always always always flowing.
like this here:
except in this picture you can't follow the roots upward all the way and also see many of the interweavings.
that's a walking tree, ficus bengalensis, whatever you wanna call it. they can move centimeters a year.
except i only saw a couple of those, and this place was littered with dozens of plants thriving in similar fashions.
hmmm. ficus bengalensis zhan zhuang.
truth seems pretty darned concrete when you hear the same stories all the time (and tell the same ones over and over again yourself). even moreso when you ignore ones that obey the official account.
i'm getting sick of "I" again. "I" gets me sick?
went to olbrich gardens today, with a flatmate, out of our minds. and bodies, not that i'd call it an oobe. 80 minutes or so outdoors, with wind chill making it feel maybe zero degrees out. becoming mostly numb, closing my eyes made me feel to be a few somehow interacting centers of awareness: my mind, thumbs and pointer fingers rubbing against one another, and heels, inasmuch as they were hitting the ground. no links between them, but my mind knew where they all were, and each of them where one another were, too.
indoors the plants were all repetitions of what appeared to be one simple pattern (different for each plant, of course), over and over and over (and over and over and over and under), often one leaf unwinding pinwheelesque, very mathematical feeling, the bark being dead outer leaf sheathing inner leaf. leaves basket weaving a tree. never saw anything that looked seed bearing (though looking for a single seed for the origin of one of these might be a bit on the foolish side [but i'm down with folly]). birthed from and of paradox. all these plants without a center, vital energies flowing skywards and waterwards and sidewards. aerial roots. latching and pushing and moving and prying, but always always always flowing.
like this here:
except in this picture you can't follow the roots upward all the way and also see many of the interweavings.
that's a walking tree, ficus bengalensis, whatever you wanna call it. they can move centimeters a year.
except i only saw a couple of those, and this place was littered with dozens of plants thriving in similar fashions.
hmmm. ficus bengalensis zhan zhuang.
truth seems pretty darned concrete when you hear the same stories all the time (and tell the same ones over and over again yourself). even moreso when you ignore ones that obey the official account.
i'm getting sick of "I" again. "I" gets me sick?
