Crashing into trees . . .
It's Thor's day … and the heat hammer has been put aside for the next week.
Regarding that chalk line you drew on the floor in order to walk across the abyss – when you erase it, or trip on it, the abyss is still there. If you sit beside it and listen carefully, you might come to realize you aren't beside it, you are in it. That boundrylessness is your spirituality reminding you of your wonderful, true Self, calling you to surrender to this mystical Oneness. You, the chalk-line, the abyss are still there, but you are also aware of your connectedness, your safety, and your freedom from the necessity of drawing lines with chalk.
The stock market "crash" (already scrambling toward a semblance of recovery) and the "rats abandoning the sinking ship" of Hollywood ... both are interconnected. Our preoccupation with the "promises" of " progress actually creates regress. Ted Gioia's "doom loops" (posted a couple of days ago) points out what happens when we go in search of fresh bread and discover the only thing available is stale. Cultural "doom loops" are not life savers candy, nor floating devices.
Ai makes matter worse for at least two reasons: 1. Ai is "matter' fixed...it can't account for context influences beyond symbols tied to “things”; and 2. It can't see the future. All it can do is function as a "replicant" machine -- to borrow a sci-fi term. Replicants were beautiful but soul-less.
Sometimes it takes a dream to realize we can’t be with each other really if we are always trying to resist our interdependence.
What Kind of Times Are These
There's a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill
and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows
near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted
who disappeared into those shadows.
…
And I won't tell you where it is, so why do I tell you
anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these
to have you listen at all, it's necessary
to talk about trees.
– Adrienne Rich, “What Kind of Times Are These” from Dark Fields of the Republic: Poems 1991-1995. W. W. Norton, 1995