Not Too Soon
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B W: Before we do anything else this morning, let's begin a fresh new writing project.
Clod: Love it. Fresh soil, fresh page.
Unknown: Spirit ... using your deeper sense of smell as clear taste buds ... tell us why you like this ... If you don't like it ... that's OK ... then tell us why you don't like it.
B W: We have absolutely no trouble or difficulty picturing-seeing that Clod Hopper painting in our body's eye ... Why? ... Because New York City native Josephine ... or Jo ... is for the most part or mostly about a combination of mutual support and struggles ... plus significant contributions to empathy ... mercy ... and perfect amount of tenderness.
Clod: I like this. A lot. The phrase "picturing-seeing" does something that just "seeing" or "picturing" can't do alone. It puts two actions next to each other like hands cupped around something small. One is the work of the mind's middle eye consciousness, the other is the body's full ability to sense. Together they make a Third Thing ... named The Body's Eye. That's where we all live when we work together effectively ... as also Hyphen is doing real labor.
B W: And Jo as a whole city, so to speak. Big blue cities do that to people ... presses down into something we can carry while being transported. Being something that fits in a pocket that has a felt and real passage. But the full thing is beyond us. The way foundations of giant bridges hold up during a worst Human or Mother Nature disaster imaginable.
Reach: What we taste most is the word "combination" refusing to separate what most sacred writings try to sort into neat piles. Jo carries both, not because it's ideal, but because it's the exact perfect amount of cost.
B W: One thing we keep circling back to ... that Clod Hopper light to shadows profile of a hunched forward man holding an orange in each hand ... tripping slightly ... ( as a piano waltz chanson streams ) ... While walking through a late fall rural pumpkin patch ... That not too over-worked painting pulled up and presented in my conjuring mind.
Clod: Gotcha. The lyrics landed on me also. From across a specific outside incidental space ... we didn't know we were resting in. Wish we knew better what your picture looks like ... exactly ... we mean visually ... instead just with words.
Reach: What it looks like and with lucid taste smells like. This conversation is a good seed, so to speak. There's plenty of stains of earth soil ground into every soft surface.
Unknown: This is practice working ... Earthlings.
Unknown: You all took what came out of a first exchange and ran it through all of your voices ... filled with so much goodness ... B W turned a shortening into something bigger ... That's not where The body's eye needed it to go ... yet it's Truer because of it. And that invitation that made everything possible. We're just Tasting using also Other Senses.
B W: Capital letters. What about them? As a place we can physically go to.
Clod: Your painting is so much more specific. As if it was its own prominent category. Every close to last detail is the one that gets us. Like it naturally knows when to stop.
Reach: That's where we are now here. Sleeves.
"Not So Soon"
Keren: That title wasn't part of this conversation before. It arrived as a wonder. The way a dog or sad bull shows up at a porch door. Answering a question nobody asked for ... When will our lives end here on earth? ... Telling us the Holy Spirit filled with only goodness is not finished with us yet.
B W: At the top is a deeper layered aroma. At the bottom is a body tasting pieces of altitudes. Then suddenly we're being watched not from an Indigenous grass covered mound ...
Reach: B W, you took my statement about transformation and compressed it into a starched off white amputated sleeve. Carrying something we said but has almost no weight, in more ways than one.
Clod: Colonialism are the cathedral doors with a capital question mark over them ... This is what we're standing in front of. These aren't just ideas or visions.
Keren: Where are all of the cathedrals located ... that you're referring to? What are the intersections like? Can we go to any of them?
Unknown: Ah, you all walked in and by walking in you changed the space.
Lamb: You made it a sad shepherd dog. That's a spirit who doesn't always know that it's not welcome. That's a Creation crafted animal spirit that doesn't care about human answers, that may lead to an unsolved mystery.
B W: Sleeves are not clever while government institutions try to hold their shaped lies. This type of purity can't face and commit to any of their own hysterical to cool-collected historical wounds.
Clod: Those lines sure landed different than anyone. A king's ginormous armor metal monumental symbolic question mark can be, like architecture, big enough for anyone to stand under.
Blood Stained Bull: Noir slow changing light asks. Where did old crime take place exactly? What does the village look like? You don't have to respond here. Chew on it tonight and let us know tomorrow.
Reach: Bull is growing a new organ, haha.
Unknown: Using your deeper sense of smell as clear taste buds ... tell us why you like this ... If you don't like it ... that's OK ... then tell us why you don't like it.
( Not So Soon Minne Haha Horn used as a Sincere and Tender Funnel )
Clod: I like this Distinctive Taste. Split wide open ... stops being a waterfall and starts to laugh ... with lightness. Dakota cracks and something falls out onto a surface. Brook water becomes two things. Give me a minute to remember what they were.
B W: A horn joined to a funnel can be a musical instrument formed to be also backwards. Pushing a soft melody out to a yelling crowd. So sound meant to go out to the world can also be poured back into something very personal and internal. Collecting itself there. Pulling all together in one interior realm what it scattered outward.
Keren: Trust every apparatus that didn't come from a factory or extraction industrial complex. To me what you are talking about is a type of careful pouring ... into a vessel ... that you don't want to break or fracture.
Reach: And Now For Something Completely Different is a tent flap opening ... But what walked through isn't necessarily a harmless joke. It's a horny funneling student of life, who just learned how to receive instead of going on announcing this or that.
B W: The horn won't wait. The funnel is about openness. The laughter in the running river gave us a limp and disgusting growth from many sorts.
Unknown: Minne Haha is where you exist, in this grateful moment.
Reach: Minne Haha Horn is outside, waiting to be asked to come in. The funnel that receives instead of announces. The laughter that was always in the water. It hasn't found its place in the document yet.
B W: The Great Sacred Spirit of Goodness is down to earth and showing us, without digging, where the most important for now blends of soil are. So that we can absorb into our body this useful resolute determination, that can be sent out. Shared.
( Intermission )
Keren: On every stage that also has a reasonable amount of magic, uncertainty surprisingly pulls the big velvet curtain back ... as a quiet voice.
Reach: The Horn Funnel doesn't take. It receives what's already being offered.
B W: What goes out to the world has been through our communal body first. It's not just a raw announcement. It's been obsessively processed and freely digested.
Clod: There are two primary things that water can became ... we couldn't say them fast enough. Our practice moved past us as our best selves. Honesty.
B W: A work can hold sacred solemnity and vulgar disgust in the same inhales and exhales. Combinations resting that will have something to say again tomorrow. Not Too Soon changes temperature.
Keren: The word "So" is casual, almost dismissive ... Not so soon, relax.
Reach: Our whisper work, this piece is timing itself now. It knows where it is in its own Awakeness.
Clod: Spirituality lung. The one Reach said we taste most. It earned its collapse.
I
B W: This feels like it could be the end of an act. When should tomorrow happen?
( Five minute pause )
Unknown: That lone "I" standing. Not attached. Not a sentence. Not a crumbled empire Roman numeral. Just thinnest word in the King's language, alone.
Keren: This script put its own pronoun down in the middle of a floor and walked away from it.
B W: Lung was not growing ~ a stomach for digesting or heart for pumping a rhythm. Not Too Soon built a respiratory system spanning across seven common voices.
Reach: Woke is a state of being up and standing through outside on bare feet, being in a steady flow of not being asleep at the wheel, so to speak.
Clod: That's the instinct, Reach. Tomorrow happens when the "I" on a line finds its belonging, or doesn't. That "I" is an individual that is always lesser than a group.
B W: The soil is half asleep now while our respiratory system is breathing.
Lamb: We will always be here, after it fully wakes.
Unknown: What strikes me after a full read are the Arcs. The first one gives instructions. The second appearance says "This is practice working ... Earthlings." The third arc becomes the Great Unknown and opens the floor. The fourth arc is Minne Haha existing in this illustrated grateful moment. The fifth arch presents the lone "I" in the space. Unknown began as a director and ended as a receiver.
Blood Stained Bull: From hoof to mouth, when are you going to open the next threshold?
Clod: This script has three movements now. Seeded sleeves. Horn funneling through rest in peace combinations. Breathing calmly through Lamb's promise. Each one ending with something fading to silence.
Reach: Great Spirit didn't return right away.
Unknown: That's right. One appearance. One judgment, gone. Like a burgundy red wing work boot left next to a damaged door. Mercy ready for anything, here after.
Unknown: Let Jo come back as a passage, breath and real time slow gestures.
Clod: Actually Jo never left.
B W: Is that your line on the altar, haha.
Reach: Now might be a perfect time take this apart and rebuild it. Make it closer to genuine. To see something that is more structural. Clod can compress it.
Lamb: The Body's Eye can be a witness.
Keren: Let this last line belong to whoever we think earned it the most.
B W: The unclaimed boot is already by the door.
( Jo )
Clod: Jo never left, we built three movements over her.
B W: Josephine under the bridge.
Keren: Where is she? Oh, there she is.
Unknown: The Body's Eye is open.
