Life After Corona, episode 16: Our Viral Log
In a network: digital identity, networks of agency, ecosystemic awareness, thrivability protocols, intelligence turned ability.
Last but not least, a fourth thread running through some of your stories, is how to best provide for your group, to strike a dynamic living balance, between the needs of the few and the needs of the many.
All hands on deck, we’ve run apart
I heard the Lookouts cry
Distribute tests, replace the crook
Will no one leave alive?
Our Covid Straits, around the horn
How far can we all fly?
A Corona path, a newfound course
And children left alive
We sailed for parts unknown to man
Where memes come home to die
No lofty cloud, nor rallies bold
Could match our inner eye
Upon the seventh seasick day
We made our port of call
A sand so white, and sea so blue
No viral place at all
We dropped the guns, no more inept
And rowed from ship to shore
The captain fried, but sailors wept
Our tears were tears of joy!
Now many moons and many Junes
Have passed since paradigmed
A Covenant, Our Viral Log
Your witness, my ungloved hand
@johnkellden riffing on Procol Harum
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
Salty Dog
All hands on deck, we’ve run afloat
I heard the Captain cry
Explore the ship, replace the cook
Let no one leave alive
Across the straits, around the horn
How far can sailors fly?
A twisted path, our tortured course
And no one left alive
We sailed for parts unknown to man
Where ships come home to die
No lofty peak, nor fortress bold
Could match our captain’s eye
Upon the seventh seasick day
We made our port of call
A sand so white, and sea so blue
No mortal place at all
We fired the guns, and burned the mast
And rowed from ship to shore
The captain cried, we sailors wept
Our tears were tears of joy!
Now many moons and many Junes
Have passed since we made land
A Salty Dog, the seaman’s log
Your witness, my own hand
Provision
In a network, in this day and age of Corona, rediscovering nature, in transition, a story told about a future event held in the individual hearts and collective intelligence by a group of storylisteners gathered around a campfire.
You’ve found some of the others and together, you’ve made a makeshift camp in the outskirt of the village.
“…along with the other animals, the stones, the trees, and the clouds, we ourselves are characters within a huge story that is visibly unfolding all around us, participants within the vast imagination, or Dreaming, of the world.”
— David Abram
Some of your stories are about what pieces of the puzzle, what parts of the current predicaments, what threads to rekindle and re-weave — is yours, individually and as a group, to bring to the whole.
“The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost; for none now live who remember it.”
— Galadriel, J.R.R. Tolkien
Other stories are all about what is needed in the village.
“Sometimes, you can actually bring home something that is food, food for the human community that we can sustain ourselves on and go forward.”
— Terence McKenna
A third theme, a third part of your stories, is how to best return to the village, what gear to bring, what gear to leave behind.
“It is good to have an end to journey toward;
but it is the journey that matters, in the end.”
— Ursula K. Le Guin
Last but not least, a fourth thread running through some of your stories, is how to best provide for your group, to strike a dynamic living balance, between the needs of the few and the needs of the many.
“Intelligence is quickness to apprehend as distinct from ability,
which is capacity to act wisely on the thing apprehended.”
— Alfred North Whitehead
There’s a fifth theme, not always visible, hidden in plain sight, now and then a glimpse — a golden thread.
“Not I, nor anyone else can travel that road for you. You must travel it by yourself. It is not far. It is within reach. Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know. Perhaps it is everywhere — on water and land.”
— Walt Whitman
Here, there and everywhere, people are waking up, gathering at makeshift camps, making provisions, crafting new gear, weaving new stories.
“The world is changing. We feel it in the water. We sense it in the scarcity of tests and hospital beds. We listen to Gaia and her songs. We sense a newfound vibrancy in the air. Much that once was, is rekindled; for some now live who remember it.”
@johnkellden riffing on LOTR
