Card Sessions: Mind Went Forth

Paradigms and Paradigm Shifts
Our accessing and tapping into archetypal power either directly, or indirectly, collectively via humans seen as stars, is what we use to re-paradigm, in service to human evolution.

Modes of Thought; Modes of Existence; Paths made by Joint Sauntering

Having managed to slog yourself through these Whitehead installments, you realize there’s one singular task facing you, consisting of two parts:

- your own taking thought in response to these Modes of Thought, your own reflection, turned (responsive, mindful, effective) action

- your own perception of Modes of Existence, aka your own attention turned situational awareness

These two together, held closely in your mind adjacent to each other, over time, catalyzing your own unique way to connect, bridge and weave, between

how people think

and

how nature works.

The importance and invaluable nature of your unique contribution cannot be overstated.

In short, and in essence, until you’ve found Your Thing, you will continue to go through crises of action and crisis of consciousness, with some regularity.

This I often refer to as the Universe engaging in a Pronoid Coinspiracy (the pattern to the Paranoid Conspiracy anti-pattern), with serendipities along your way, with a purpose and meaning for you to bring, perhaps including seeing yourself on a path made by walking, a path already illumined by the evolutionary journey of your soul. With your 4E, 5E Cognition and your embodied mind, an increasingly response-able instrument.

There Was a Mind Went Forth

THERE was a Mind went forth every day;
And the first thing Minded upon, that Mattered, Mind became;
And that microcosm concrescence became part of Mind for the day, or a certain part of the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.

The early lilacs became part of this Mind,
And grass, and white and red morning-glories, and white and red clover, and the song of the phoebe-bird,

Flamingos finding small insects, crustaceans, and algae.

And the Third-month lambs, and the sow’s pink-faint litter, and the mare’s foal, and the cow’s calf,

And the noisy brood of the barn-yard, or by the mire of the pond-side,

And the fish suspending themselves so curiously below there — and the beautiful curious liquid,

An old bridge sustaining stories for our common future.

And the water-plants with their graceful flat heads — all that Matter, became part of Mind, .

The field-sprouts of Fourth-month and Fifth-month became part of Mind;

Winter-grain sprouts, and those of the light-yellow corn, and the esculent roots of the garden,

Understanding, cultivating knowledge conducive to preferable outcomes.

And the apple-trees cover’d with blossoms, and the fruit afterward, and wood-berries, and the commonest weeds by the road;

And the old and new fellow saunterers staggering home from the out-house of the platform, whence they’d lately clicked,

And the blog-mistress that swayed on our way to learning,
And the friendly algorithms that augmented — and the quarrelsome memes
And the pithy quotes and pretty pictures — and the barefoot in the head Oligarch boy and girl,

A requisite variety of paths between today and preferable outcomes.

And all the changes of city and country, wherever in our world wild web, Mind wisely wield and wend.

Mind-ing our parents in loving memory held; Mind-ing ourselves and our children, seven generations to come

The evolutionary journey that moved Mind, and Gaia that embraced
Mind in her dreams, and birthed Human Form,

A portal to a game named 8bn.

They gave this Mind more of themselves than that,
They embraced Mind afterward every day — they became part of Mind, taking thought, embracing journey.

The tribes, the others, the institutions, the market booths and the hustlers, the town criers, the networks,

The streets themselves, and the façades of houses, and goods in the windows,

Shinji Tsuchimochi: 100 views of Tokyo

Vehicles, teams, the heavy-plank’d wharves — the huge crossing at the ferries,

The village on the highland, seen from afar at sunset — the river between,

Shadows, aureola and mist, the light falling on roofs and gables of white or brown, three miles off,

The schooner near by, sleepily dropping down the tide — the little boat slack-tow’d astern,

Small boats that pass, sharing a world and a word or three.

The hurrying tumbling waves, quick-broken crests, slapping,
The strata of color’d clouds, the long bar of maroon-tint, away solitary by itself — the spread of purity it lies motionless in,

The horizon’s edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh and shore mud; and anything else Matter

These became part of our inviting and cultivating and homesteading Mind, a Mind went forth every day, and is now moving and will always go forth every day.
@johnkellden riffing on Walt Whitman

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