This morning I was watching Gordon White’s tribute to the recently-departed Peter Carroll. I’ve never read any of Carroll’s books and I doubt I ever will. I was watching for the same reason I read or watched nearly everything Gordon produced: you never knew when he would drop some jewel of knowledge or practice. He ended the video with a prayer that Carroll would be seated as an ancestor of practice.
A friend recently said that he identifies more with his grandparents than his parents. I agreed, and with some more thought I think I know why. A brief overview of the four turnings model of Anglo-American history, if you’re not already familiar. Quotes are taken from the book, focusing on the last two cycles. I suspect historians would hate the four turnings idea, but it’s been a very useful mental model for me.
Still trawling the archives. I used to have a Buttondown newsletter. The following—a themed issue rather than the usual “what I read this week” format—is the only thing I’ve found worth saving from that era. Reading The Magic Mountain every morning over that winter of 2018-2019 remains as a happy memory. Welcome, friends. You can only come across so many references to a novel before you decide you need to read it for yourself.
Everyone knows about child development; adult development is less appreciated. One aspect of adult development is the maturation of long-term love. Young Love This is the period characterized by looking long and deeply into the lover’s eyes. The world disappears and the only thing that matters is what is seen in those scrying orbs. This period is well documented (see the pop music charts of the last seventy years) and, unfortunately, grasped too tightly by people who do not realize it is meant to be a phase, not a permanent condition.
Finished reading Sacasus’ “AI as Christian Heresy.” His final paragraph clarified something that’s been banging around in my head: What would it mean to render to the machine what is the machine’s? To regain a sense of what it is to be a person, coupled with a subversive practice of the same, within a techno-economic system whose default settings incline us to forget this vital fact about ourselves and our neighbours?
This morning, Rachel and I were talking about home. We often talk about plans and projects, and what we’ve built here over the years; sometimes, though, we talk about home in its hidden sense, the feeling that lies behind our patch of ground in the plain light of day. What is home in the hidden sense for you? Does it align with your patch of ground? When the two senses of home align, that is a sign of an integrated life.
When you situate yourself in a nexus of relationships–ancestors, community, spirits, nonhumans, and more–your role in the intergenerational gift economy becomes clearer. When this role becomes clearer, your responsibility as both inheritor and steward becomes clearer. Your responsibilities become your sacred task. They are no less tasks for being sacred, but the context matters. There are some responsibilities I have that are not easy. When I settle into the nexus, though, the clarity keeps me going.
If therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. Many times over the years I have heard that there must be a necessary delineation between spouses. They each must have their own identity, interests, and ways of seeing the world. We are warned that a complete identification would annihilate one’s own self-identity, which is essential for well-being. This is the language of psychological safety. There is no safety in love.
David Orr, as quoted in “Prophetic Possibilities": The increasing velocity of knowledge is widely accepted as sure evidence of human mastery and progress. But many, if not most, of the ecological, economic, social, and psychological ailments that beset contemporary society can be attributed directly or indirectly to knowledge acquired and applied before we had time to think it through carefully. We rushed into the fossil fuel age only to discover the giant problem of climate destabilization.
The final word is the opening word of the Tao Te Ching: A Way called Way isn’t the perennial Way. A name that names isn’t the perennial name. Our training has given us chatty minds—but mystery is not chatty. Reassure that anxious part of yourself: Mystery is and ought to be underdefined. It is not trying to slip away; you do not need to tether it with words.