Friday Philosophy: Picking up the rhythm

Boom chucka chucka.  Boom chucka chucka. Boom chucka chucka.

The WeaveMothers rustled.

Rustled?  It’s as good a word as any to describe their collective motion.  A ripple of the fabric was often necessary since the units seemed predisposed to perform the same task over and over and over again.

Uncertainty happens.  At least it is supposed to happen.  One can’t be certain that it will.

Take one part eternal truth…

[We’ll leave aside the philosophical questions about whether or not their can be eternal truths about Truth and what the nature of those truths might be.]

Truth lies in the moment between the appearance of a thought and having words to express that thought.

Add one part political relevance (or not)…

Back to the 50s Movement.

They even snagged some crazy TV western dude to be the spokesperson for the movement.  Part of the Buy-centennial Sell-abration.   I guess Charlton Heston was busy.

So this crazy dude really weirded out the place trying to find his way back to the 50s.  Unfortunately he convinced a lot of other crazy dudes to help him.  After all, the 50s were the days of the military-industrial complex.  What could be better?

And now we have these other crazy dudes who want to go back to the good old days of that really crazy dude.  And they are joining the first crazy dudes.

And they are still trying to find the way to finish the loop.  I guess picking a military guy is supposed to remind us of Ike.  Substitute “terrorist” everywhere where the script used to read “communist” and we’re all set.  And we even have the name thing.  John McCarthy?   Joseph McCain?  Something like that.  We will persecute the people to the full extent of the our Father who art in Heaven.

Just revise the script of I Led Three Lives.

Add some tangents:

Loops in SpaceTime are dangerous.

The thing is that many of us have developed lives since the 50s, lives which could not have been lived back then.  We will not be dragged back there.  We will resist.

Resistance is never futile.

The WeaveMother was amused…as much as WeaveMothers can be amused.

The long view revealed much more.  A searching for connection perhaps.  And some degree of sadness that the connection is always limited.  The units did seem to be stubborn about maintaining their distance from one another.

Perhaps there is backstory over here.  Some conversations last until there are few watchers.

And there is more backstory over there (⇒).  Some words I have not the skill to weave.

The unit vibrated some threads in an attempt to set up a standing wave in its neighbors.  Reach out, little spot.

It was rare to find units that looked back.  The WeaveMother shivered its best laugh.

Shake well.  Or fail to do so.  Oil and water and all.  What do you call the third thing when three things fail to mix?  Maybe some art needs making.  Maybe another little impression of what the glimpse of the Tapestry revealed.

And maybe some words can be jumbled, tumbled, and dried, aligned to approximate as much Truth as can they allow.

A Thread Tintinnabulation Can you hear the beating of the universe? Have you experienced the pulse, pulse, pulse of the world? When was the last time you put your ear to the planet? Listen closely now The hour is getting late Can you hear your thoughts before they become words? The bell of Truth rings too thin a tinkle to be called a peal Can you hear how it extols us to move forward not back Can you hear the vibrating strands of the Tapestry? –Robyn Elaine Serven –May 23, 2008

The WeaveMother hummed along.  Humming was one of the things WeaverMothers did best.