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There’s no view worth holding onto. Except maybe the view that one must hold onto a view. But then that contradicts itself, naturally, like everything else. A good example is a good jazz improvisation session. You can – here – see time passing and feel what is good to hold onto and what, in order to renew your spot, your allegiance to life – is good to let go. It’s like rocks, having rocks in your hand but you want to pick up that new flower, so you need to release a rock. 

I like this contradiction in us – and sometimes I hate – that we are adaptive, groove finding creatures – but that we must be contrary to survive. In a way, this is a very helpful fact to keep in mind when you do something like stare a criminal in the face. S/he could change, as have you changed. So the view you hold, if to be based in real experience, must also have this capacity.

And then there is evidence, evolving physical evidence of one’s existence. I’ve dedicated a lot of time to this recently – how my body is not my body it exists almost regardless of what I say or think. It has its own destiny and not just in terms of wellness/ illness. What does this being say to space, to voids, to alive landscapes that embrace it – and how through my work can I continue to dialogue with it? I carry this into sound – space – and in turn my sound carries structures of space (of course) in it.

Space prays. If you let it. And our existence whether inside or outside a fabricated ‘home’ has known this union for so long. Remove all chairs, desks, beds, bookcases, if you want to pick up that new flower that is spatial prayer. I don’t know. Try it. That’s what we were made for. 

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