baby consciousness…we meet again

Photo on 5-12-17 at 9.09 PM #4.jpg

this kid is too darned adorable. I’m currently with him at his momma & poppa’s – they’re out on a date. and lucky them, because both of them are pretty swell folks. as is their little boy here – his facial expressions are so remarkably nuanced. sitting with him & constantly smiling at him, trying to make him smile back – i am instantly reminded that He Sees Through Me, and wont be irrationally tickled into a happy state. immense and subtle is his learning – amazing to watch him move, grasp, re-grasp, squeak, re-grasp, drop……like a drop of ink falling into the water. the ink (baby) & its environment (water) are not separate, but are distinct…..& adjust, mingle, altering one another reciprocally. even most contemporary language in the world of developmental psychology and developmental neuroscience is suggestive of this idea that babies are ‘learning the skills needed to be an adult,’ as if the passivity of embodiment suddenly vanishes at old age. in my experience both the adult (or the advanced adult/senior/cute old prune) and the child follow this same ink-water relationship. perhaps the adult-ink has settled more equally into the water, and is more familiar with the turnings of the water, and vice versa. but both follow the same rules, & neither is entitled to magic intentionality.

as a helpful reminder (or perhaps the very prompt) for these lines of thinking are some of the books that mom & dad have sitting around here. The Soul of an Octopus is the clear Ian-choice:

“Popular naturalist Sy Montgomery explores the emotional and physical world of the octopus, the remarkable connections it makes with people, and the vibrant community that arises around this complex, intelligent, and spirited creature. Practicing true immersion journalism, from New England aquarium tanks to the reefs of French Polynesia and the Gulf of Mexico, Montgomery befriends individual octopuses with strikingly different personalities – gentle Athena, assertive Octavia, curious Kali, and joyful Karma – who show their cleverness in myriad ways: escaping enclosures, creative trickery to get food, and jetting water to bounce balls. Montgomery also chronicles scientists’ growing appreciation of the octopus’s problem-solving as she tells a love story. By turns funny, entertaining, touching, and profound, The Soul of an Octopus reveals what octopuses can teach us about the meeting of two very different minds.”

but resting just nearby is another consciousness-themed text. Inner Engineering: A Yogi’s Guide to Joy. I would type the description of that one but it’s too long, and this baby over here is murmuring/moving in his sleep.

Be back soon

field notes (05/07/2017)

Another adventure to Minneapolis – to the best possible place – Harry Waters Juniors’ place. Fuck yes. The May Day parade was today & a party at Harry’s after. Was too sleepysluggishstoned to do much else but sleep. Had some water – toting coffee with me now. Going to find Jules @ midtown market before Harry’s. A gorgeous artery of blue, vessels of green – system circulating openly under open sky. Bridges are thrilling. I love riding the 21. Many memories of this bus – oddly enough the westward trips to MPLS jump to mind, rather clearly, but I don’t much recall taking the 21 back east. Why? Hm.

Often when Anika was on E. 19th I’d bike there – sometimes bus – sometimes Lyft. Missed her really badly for the first time last night. Not to be a werewolf about it but it seems that direct moonlight on my skin seems to stimulate a nervous response that gets me all sad and sappy, or sweet & sappy, I don’t know. In the ‘miss you’ type of way more than the ‘angry at you’ type of way. Or the moon makes me smile about the situation rather than frown. I dunno. Avoid the moonlight!!!

The 21 also reminds me of her. I’m very much a homebody- most comfortable to be in the regular certitude of my own nest. And Minneapolis is so big – formerly such a rare visit – that outings there were nerve-racking. Still are, I guess. Bus trips, busses missed, etc. On March 9th I bussed to Minneapolis to see Anika, knowing-not-knowing she would probably dump me by surprise. Getting onto the 21 – especially at night – especially in cold – reminds me of that bus trip It calls to memory that westward ride – the little yellow journal. Doodling in it. On that night I was sitting on the left side of the bus, near the front, in one of the disabled seats. I had a short green pen (one that Matthew got me, meant for drawing) and I was aimlessly scribbling numbers and wannabe equations into the journal, hardcover, from Wet Paint. Sensing tectonic plates moving, & a fault line splitting- on one half, knowing it’d work out. The other – denying that it wouldn’t. And between those landmasses – a gulf, which ripped open the next afternoon once I got home. Wow, aren’t I a little pity party today? Enough ruminating & back to the present….Shut up, hippocampus. Hello, parietal lobes.

field notes pt. 2 (05/06/2017)

“haha Ian I love being in public with you it’s so funny and weird”

“what’s THAT supposed to mean”

“the way you just yell up at crows and talk to them”

“i talk AT them I do not talk TO them”

“uh huh”

“i’m serious. i talk AT them. i can’t talk to animals”

“uh huh. i’m suspicious”

field notes pt. 3 (05/06/2017)

Sunbathing. Never thought I’d say or do that seriously but here I am. Am with Juliette, Steph, & DAD. Nathan is allegedly possibly supposedly on his way. At the moment a breeze- tank top & shorts aren’t enough. Just a moment later (as I write) – no breeze, sun ambles out from behind a cloud. Grass itchy, flag whipping, flagpole ding-ing as the cord slaps against it. I hear the bus lowering at the bus stops – the hydraulics hiss, the bus beeps.

field notes pt. 1 (5/6/2017)

An exciting morning.

Got up for my usual headache-coffee-nomoreheadache-sit in chair-birdwatch-meditate session this morning. My usual perch (the purple chair in the living room) had been twisted in the opposite direction when company came over yesterday, so I turned it around to face the window. Sat. Headache buzzing, coffee steaming (in the “Our Hearts are Very Old Friends” mug, extra sugar, a little milk. No meat for the crows today, even though I’d like to have some, so instead I was just watching them fly about. Pretty loud this morning too.

Suddenly, across the street- a little brown pup. Puppy? Dog? I was unsure. It was lingering on the sidewalk, conspicuously alone – I looked up & down the street while leaning forward in the purple chair. Didn’t see anything. The little thing crossed the street towards my house, now CLEARLY alone, with no collar to speak of. I immediately hopped up out of my chair, leaving the coffee & my keys in the living room, & went down the stairs. Got to the porch & saw the little critter out on the sidewalk in front of my house.

hello, bb!

It looked at me – cautiously and intently, while backing away towards Fry street.

hello, bb!

It took off. Walking neatly & adorably along the sidewalk – too civil (and too small) to be any type of wild creature. Nope. Definitely domesticated, definitely helpless, definitely hungry and thirsty, and I’m definitely not its poppa. Therefore no surprise that it bolted. The other morning (a few miles away on Jefferson) I saw a poster for a missing dog – even made an effort to memorize the number. On that day I remember walking away & being concerned that I couldn’t remember the number. Not because I was expecting to find a missing dog (I don’t even have a cell phone to call anyone should I run into a missing dog), but because numbers are really fun, & to be forgetful of them is really annoying to me. So as I saw this dog in front of my house, backing away, I remembered the poster – bright yellow, located on Jefferson ave – it had 2 numbers listed. What were they? 651-???-6041? Even though I couldn’t remember them I could remember 2 other details from the poster: that the dog might have its leash or harness on it (purple in color) and that the dog would run away if approached. With the available information, and the small possibility that this was indeed the dog, the best I could do was to not approach it. At least not too clearly/aggressively/etc. After this first moment of observation and cogitation had passed the dog took off from the house pretty quick & I just walked down to the end of the stoop. Watched it run up the street towards Fry, turning left into the lawn of that apartment building on the corner. At that moment it paused to glance back at me – I was still looking at it -& it left. A crow flew overhead as I walked eastward up the street, & as I tried to call out to the dog the crow landed over my head. Even though the dog situation was sorta stressful the crow certainly made me smile. In fact the entire encounter was smile-worthy. For all the intentional and planned and calculated effort I’ve put in buying meat for the crows, & all the exacting regularity with which I’ve fed them, it is of course while I’m out chasing a lost creature that a crow actually comes up to greet me. It sat overhead in the tree & adjusted itself once, so that its head was facing me. I continued calling for the dog up the street, but it was further up Fry. So up Fry I went. Turned right onto Dayton and, upon getting a few houses up the street someone yelled at me from out a window. They were trying to guide me towards the dog – & then the voice asked, “Is that Ian?”

A former classmate from a few philosophy classes was the onlooker! We chatted a bit thru the window about the pup – they had spotted it the night before over on Selby – but the lil’ fella had disappeared somewhere on Dayton and I decided to walk home. Walked home. Decided to go back out. Went back out.

Found the guy back on Dayton & Fry after poking around for a while. Brought him back up to classmate’s house & left him there. I’ll add a little more about the guy & his movements, etc – but I have 6 minutes until I need to leave for work. And to think- as soon as I sat down with my coffee in the living room I had already assumed it would be a boring morning. Guess not!

field notes (05/02/2017)

Out on the railroad tracks. Left home with a mug of coffee, still rather sleepy (especially in the eyes and face) – walked to the tracks by Marshall & Fry. Am sitting on one rail facing the sun – the entire length of tracks here along the highway are sort of sunken into the landscape; the highway behind me being perhaps 10-15 feet higher, & the block/street/backyards in front of me being up by 30 feet (?). In front of me the sun is just now scaling over & past the rooftops & trees over the top of the mini-hill/valley thing. It was quite remarkable a few moments ago to see the highway side of the mini-valley (behind me) illuminated while the tracks & street-side (in front of me) were dark. In the time I’ve been writing this the sun has risen enough to directly light the page of this journal – but if I tip it even slightly towards me the page is again a darker blueish. Unlike the living room at home this spot offers a wide & expansive outdoor scene to sit in- at least extending in 2 directions. The massive steel tendons cast thru the middle (indeed, the only reason this urban boulevard and associated mini-valley even exist) are obtrusive and the chunky rocks beneath them are as well.

Like the living room at home the sonic environment is barraged and beaten by the roar of hungry vehicles. That screaming gnashing engine sound. The sun is now past the branches – wondering if the paper will need sunscreen. Heh. A few sights while walking here – the graffiti over the Marshall/Snelling bridge is ever-evolving. I enjoyed the bright easter-green of a large piece on the northern side – some white scribblings by another atop it. The same green speckled & splattered all over the tracks a few yards up. I couldn’t decide which of the rusted wires or steady chunks of glass or jagged corpses of old spraypaint cans seemed the most ominous. Paused on the bridge to drink some coffee – cars on either side down on street & it felt best to sip in private. Kept walking.

The body of a rabbit – recently deceased. Was sipping on coffee & taking a big gulp when I noticed it. Super dead. Like…wayyyyy dead. A bit bloodied on its hips – but not really mangled or bitten or whatever. Train incident? My wonderings were unsatisfied – kept walking. A bit further on: a perfectly formed fetus of some kind – 3, maybe 5 inches long. Shiny, grey, more pig-looking than rabbit. Or squirrel. Abdomen ripped open, perhaps snacked on but not entirely ‘gutted’ (heh). Lots of birds along the way – pigeons, a few mystery characters, one corvid. My energy level picked up some 20 minutes into my walk – sitting here now I am a bit sleepy again. The slightest suggestion of a shortage in sustenance signals my senses – maybe it’s food time soon. I’ll walk back. My butt is pleasantly cold from sitting on the track.