I think we’ve been discussing words long enough (here) to begin using them. Might be fun. Let’s give it a whirl.
Blue Bunch Wheatgrass Whirlling, Big Bar Eskers
When ore waters to whirl a flow, it is a mindful rather than a scattered draw.
Translation: When water flows off the land as a river, it is an intentional rather than a random force.
Bears in Beaver Valley
Anyone standing in the flow as it meanders across the breadth of mind is following the hurricane of will.
Translate: Anyone entering the current as it flows through space is following the gravitational energy of the earth.
Pollen on Lake Conconully
Note how the first sentence of each of these pairs concerns energy relationships, while the second, contemporary English usage, concerns material relationships approached from outside. A person is inserted into them, and can leave again. In the first sentence of each pair, there is no separation, and hence no approach or departure, only an intensification. To understand these sentences, if that be a goal, one needs to enter more deeply into them. To understand the second sentence in each pair, one needs to follow a line of logic and extend them with further sentences, leading to a cognitive goal outside of the sentences themselves. Contemporary scientific thought calls the first of each pair “poetry” and the second “a hypothesis,” which can only be proven by measurement. When one stands within the world of the first pair, however, one proves the proposition by matching continued observation with its imagery at repeated levels. For example, here is a cliff above an ancient human camp in the Thompson Grasslands, squeezing out a waning moon holding the old moon in its arms, at least seven fish, and a human figure. It is no more or less a flow than a river, no more or less a meander (what contemporary science would call random) and no more or less the minding or memory that comes from its endurance, like the endurance of a river in time.
Earth and Moon in the Thompson
Without that endurance, there is no flow. In other words, a human comes to the flow to enter it. If you do not come to it, you don’t, but then neither does it enter you and your meandering across the width of the world must be done without it. The process is easy to demonstrate. There you are meditating on the flow, either that of stone above or water, and then it rains.
The rain is your presence. It is what breaks the flow by standing outside of it. Now you can observe it re-enter and change the flow, until the pattern is reformed.
In this way, by stepping off a fjall and broadening it into a flat, you spread out into mind.
Translation: By following this process of entering wilderness, you are renewed. (Note how much less is said here, how abstract it is, and how subject to misinterpretation and mis-use.) In both the original statement and the abstract translation contemporary usage makes of it, mind is observation.
Next: Læk, the purpose of holding (minding) a flow.