February 24, 2015 - 02:43
I sat at my site-sit for 45 minutes the other day. The site-sits are hard for me, because I'm not sure what conclusions I am to be drawing from them. Perhaps I am to simply sit in the presence of nature and comment on what surprises me about the forced interaction, what disappoints or angers me. But for me, the site-sits, which seem to be contingent on interacting with our own silence, have for me been consumed with the thoughts for which I deny space in my normal non-site-sitting-life. These sits have led to many conversations I would not have had with myself otherwise. This doesn't feel like academic work. This does feel worthwhile. Creation of space for other types of work feels ecological. Art feels ecological.
is all work not work? is the product of ecological exploration not inherently ecological?
The woods behind Batten provide the language. I feel rooted in instability. Of rushing tides and doubt. Tangled in the jungle of fear and silence. Those thoughts belong to me, but also belong so much to the space that provided the development that is so otherwise intermitent. I'm grateful for thinking, fearful of thinking, delighted and horrified at the idea of losing things through the cracks.
for what reason? is there purpose to this thought?
I think that part of the struggle of not knowing what I'm supposed to be noticing, is feeling like I've lost sight of the point of the thought. Are we looking to bring about change? If so, for our environment, or for our selves? Both? How? What change? Is it change we really want? I don't know how this turned into a critique of site-sits..? But...?