Thinking in the ruins

I didn't do a lot of thinking actually. though, now I say that, something has been gnawing at me. I am thinking of fungal connections as memories of the past and imaginings of the future. For Henri Bergson, memory was duration folded... so imagine when the fungal connections have withdrawn, due to ploughing or fertilisers, no longer folded... the sense of being-in-the-world is attenuated when the connections are no longer richly meshed.... And it's the body that reconnects... the body that feels... back in place... back in contact... exchanging and growing... Memory as material: the body remembers pathways, weights, arcs of motion. Imagination as the equivalent of birdsong: both are extensions of form into the world.

If there is a beyond, it is only because the within has depth.

The hollow places.

At any rate.

The big old beech seems well. Very monumental.

I saw a green wood pecker (too far) and a lot of lovely goldcrests (too dark). They enchanted me, tiny things.

And as I left, the sky was a picture.