It’s fascinating, really. Water bends along lines of contact, changing angles of light, and otherwise stretches out in flat planes.
The same world is available to be seen under water, yet is seen differently, in part because of differing angles of observation but also because of multi-dimensional angles of presentation. Despite this revelations (and because of them), the depths remain most mysterious
Because of the ability of grammatical language to constrain thought into predictable patterns, in which natural observations are replaceable with each other according to structures of grammars, like this…
I eat the fresh shoots of balsam root in the spring. They quicken the mind.
I brush the old stalks of balsam root in the fall. They quicken the touch.
I eat the fresh shoots of war in the spring. They quicken the mind
I brush the old stalks of war in the fall. They deaden the touch.
(We can play games like this all day, but the point is that the language is leading the discussion and all words are interchangeable.)
… what better way to see into the depths of what you know (and there must be a better way) than to read the computations of a wetland? The calculations it makes are ones you already know, but were otherwise closed off to you, and contain past, presence and what is to come…
… all in relation to where you place yourself in relationship to them, which is as much physically…
Ta da! No lily pads.
… as where you place your self in relationship to being present in time and awareness. In other words, for every act of looking the water offers a look. These two looks are one. These are complex calculations played out in multiple dimensions. No computer has been invented that can do this. Monet understood it, though…
… as do the monks of Japanese gardens…
… and if we think it is an act of contemplation and not one of computation, then we have misunderstood the all-important difference between being the universe and being words.
Big Bar Wetland, September 26, 2019