Friday, January 3, 2014

This Month's Seven Topics

A friend helped me to understand writing in a whole new way. Her father had passed on a helpful way of looking at writing which aids us in our quest, to get to the bottom of true meanings behind words, clarify concepts conveyed by writing and decipher essential qualities, as well as shades of meaning that are hidden amongst the words. I would like to speak to each of these in turn, but let me start by listing the whole kit and caboodle, then taking a stab at elaborating each in isolation. Understanding critical elements and principles of each and every story we hear helps make sense of the written world around us. This detailed analysis can  help us to understand not only the context in which we communicate but to better see through authorial blind spots, veiled meanings and expectations that are lying behind all that is written. Making sense of our environment, finding the best ways to integrate words and ideas into our conceptualization of the world may be the deciding factor in whether we will act in time or not, in averting an ecological/economic collapse that rivals even this most recent catastrophe. Developing the discipline to look closely at the written word can be a life long commitment so fasten your seat belts and hold on to whatever you have as a point of reference today, for it may not be there for support tomorrow.

My friend's dad always started this process by asking three questions:
1.) What mood, feeling or emotion is conveyed by the writing?
2.) What thought or reflection is being conveyed?
3.) What meaning or experience is being shared?

These seven aspects of all written language are far more important than the individual words. Discovering the answers to these three questions requires a deft knowledge of the seven aspects and what sorts of experiences that writing can convey. This moon, I will be attempting to delve into each of these aspects in turn and try to make sense of not only the writing of other authors, but of my own expression as well. I frequently write without consideration of many basic parts of my world view, holding them instead in the words and phrases. I try to craft each post as a vessel, intended to carry much more meaning than mere words can express, I see them designed to teach, to inform and to share a bit of myself with others, but in reality, these aspects are often far more important than what I am trying to express. I see my own craft as specific, but it may be far more general than even I know.

Many of the issues that I write about and many of the difficulties that I refer to are things t I have known about for many decades. I once made a special label for all of my mother's aerosol cleaning products (around 1975) that said: THE PROPELLENT USED IN THIS CANISTER WILL TAKE TEN YEARS OR MORE TO REACH THE STRATOSPHERE. ONCE THERE, IT WILL CONTINUE TO DEGRADE EARTH'S PROTECTIVE OZONE LAYER FOR MANY DECADES TO COME, EXPOSING ALL LIFE ON THE PLANET TO DEADLY COSMIC RADIATION. That thirteen year old still lives within me. Of course, my world view has had vast areas filled in since then, but in my heart, even then, I knew the comfort that I always felt in the arms of Mother Earth as well as the pitiful sickness which came over me when I realized how much the juggernaut of "economic" expediency exhibited contempt for any sane treatment of the planet.

With  bit of luck and hours of thoughtful reflection, perhaps I can clarify my messages and convey the importance of all of us in finding a truly resonant voice with which to speak for the trees, the wildlife of all types and to express the fact that our birthright is hung in the balance for only one purpose, to line the pockets of our masters.

Mood, for instance is the sense of our current state of being. As writers, we are incapable of writing completely cold and objective statements. Our entire vocabulary belies a set of experiences and codifies a position with relation to the world around us. My chiropractor just this past week was confounded that in stagecraft (spotlight operators specifically) who focus light through our instruments use terms for what we are doing that are far more general than the words he uses for doing the same thing with x-ray radiation. Implicit in understanding the rift between our languages one must honor and respect both who is doing the talking and what they are trying to convey. We may say that we need to put the hot spot on the actor or that we need more intensity, or a tighter beam, or perhaps a happier blue, whereas his lexicon uses a term called occulation, passing the radioactive energy through an occulus, to create a beam. His work with invisible energy to expose film informs his understanding of what we do with light but he also implied by his amazement that we use "more general" terms and most of them are non-scientific to imply that our experiences with light are less exacting. In truth, it is more like the Eskimo language having dozens of words for snow. He "lights" one subject, the blank plates and it reacts like film, so his concern is getting the sharpest image possible in each and every exposure. His diagnosis often depends on seeing as closely as possible what can be difficult to reveal. He also uses a form of energy to "light" his subjects that is extremely hazardous and "science" has a vested interest in having him think of his own exposure relatively scientifically, or he might decide that it is not worth the risk to himself or his patients. Lighting technicians in the theater may light as many subjects as he x-rays in a year during a single performance and our intent and palette vary significantly depending on the mood we are trying to create. We can afford to describe increasing the intensity as "give him some more love, or love him up a little, no one has ever died from the application of photons, as far as I know.

The mood I am in when I write may be part and parcel of the written words, as in poetry or song lyrics, or it may be intentionally skewed, revised or inherently made to be obscure, just for effect. Setting a mood often requires description of or signalling to the reader, certain feelings, emotions and conditions that may not be integral to the message. For instance, when I wrote about my near brushes with death, the mood was intentionally incoherent and dreamlike, that is how my sense of self got morphed and my perspective within the moment seemed to be malleable as well, so that was part of the message. When we finally give up our normal perspective it can be a floaty experience and as the veil between life and death thins, ethereal meanings and messages can come through as if becoming apparent through a thick haze or fog. Even the feelings of smell and touch can be imperceptibly dulled. In my own case, there were times that I felt numb in some ways, but exquisitely aware and alive in others. Trying to share these sorts of events can be difficult because many of us are trained from birth to suppress instinctual or subtle interactions between our ideas and perceptual resources. In our public life, even the internal dialogue that leads us to any particular decision point is downplayed. It is partially captured, or decapitated actually in the phrase, "He is a man of action." what changes would be wrought if we just added the word "thoughtful" to that imploring maxim. I know that I would be much happier if people referred to me as a man of thoughtful action. How about you?

If not now, when? If not us, who? The mood that I am most interested in sharing is the one that impatiently knocks at the door of the ruling elite, calls out for justice and forgives their ignorance, yet stands for nothing short of awareness of the many ways our sacrifices have accrued to oligarchs. If I ever fail to communicate this mood, someone please remind me of why I write. Thank-you for your patience this moon and for taking the time to read my blog. Please support it with what you can. Donate, it will help me continue planting trees.

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