we must then consider that there are relationships of friendship between us and plants. Dependencies. And a plant may be a plant may be a rose, but our objects are snapshots, postcards of our relationship to Plants. To the ground beneath our feet.
We could go a couple of directions here. We could approach the issue of desire’s reliance on the lit individual. We could consider extrasensory perception.
Abolishing the veracity of the mind reader, a hoax, a sham, a parkour trick. This is the confusion of what constitutes ‘mind.’ It is possible to pay such close attention that the ground of a person is revealed to another. And we consider this magic. But it is only a paying attention. The people seemingly in charge of what is what , we have put them in power because they are so good at making us feel safe, of tucking us in with bedtime stories of walls.
But this in itself is a bedtime story, placing a boundary between our naïve selves and those we might trust to know better, that create our garden plot. A long time ago, as is often the case with stories we lose track of, reasoning obscured, we stopped believing in magic. But really, we just decided one magic was all the magic we wanted.
What we find odd and mysterious is misplaced. When we see a photon do more than one thing at the same time, we use our understanding of waves, fields, but we also see the photon. We exclaim how odd it acts. But perhaps the oddity is that we don’t have the capacity to explain in our limited curiosity cabinet of words,language,concepts — we are the odd ones.
What can be described can be governed. It truly is not difficult to see how identity politics, how liberal inclusion works to benefit the governors.
We turn away from the magics of emotion, intuition, we consider dangerous what we can’t explain, can’t name. Only within stories in which this dark place sees the light do we acknowledge its fecundity.