Howdy Haunts,
Summer is here. For us in the outdoor education oeuvre that means seeing the forest AND the trees for hours on end.
I’ve been clocking at least 12 miles a day coordinating pods of children learning wilderness survival, tracking and meditation on the GREEN (see: Swamp Thing) – it is a return to form for me, more of a bioindicator of the magicks of the self, not unlike earth’s lichen. I feel my symbiosis through fungai (teaching) and moss (growth) indicate to me a sort of supra-self, a self that is finally gyrating in that crevice of used-to-be contradictory realms.
The lichen analogy works amongst most things in my life, and I have meditated quite deeply about my fascination with seemingly opposing extremes finding a harmonious third mind – especially when it comes to creativity and sustainability. I come to you with good tidings: I can smell it, I can smell it pushing and inching, itching and punching – and it’s all coming back…
I’ve been constructing a return to audio podcasting via these very sentiments. A scripted and full-force effort considering the otherwise disparate sources of inspiration that melded this focus once again:
The positives: Outdoor education, musicks from Skip James to Frusciante’s “Landes” record, Russian Suprematism artist Malevich’s art and words, Orson Welles’ The Shadow Broadcast, the films of Cassavettes, and the majesty of brilliant creatives who are tagged and tried to ol’ #223…
But I also found inspiration in alienation – alienation from the current UFOlogy movement (pun intended) for wanting more imagination and less static “proof”, occult “experts” and their incessant puffy chests about the subjective other, youtube in general and beached naysayers stuck in a pungent rift of grumpy assholery.
I am learning to take the disgruntled in much the same way I take the majesty of inspiration, and am finding a soulful snicker and grin – pure coyote energy – barking within…
So stay tuned for weekend developments as my weeks are long and entangled in the Green… for my weekends are my touchstone days to regurgitate these good and bad swallows into, what I think, will be a whole new era of creative gusto.
I hope you’re well. Always write me, always, I always find time for the tit for tat.
Haunt on,
Keats
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