Cartography of the Mind (Part 3 of 17)

The following are excerpts of an illuminated book sent from Liza to the group. As usual, we publish typed excerpts of these along with the original photo. The best way is to read the text, of course, is to to experience it in its illuminated form.

2. On what the satellite prepares us for

• Choosing total silence of an event over extensive documentation
• On burning our poems
• Preparation for the profound aloneness

Note: I recently listened to an interview between Krista Tippet and Pico Iyer on The Art of Stillness that resonated with me more so than anything I've encountered since my return to Detroit. I'll be referencing it frequently in the following pages.

In reference to Iyer's annual Benedictine hermitage: "The point of gathering stillness is not to enrich the sanctuary of the mountaintop, but to bring that calm into the motion, the commotion of the world."

I think we're mostly asking the wrong questions here. Whether or not we have consciousness of our world and experience and being as art without the perspective of the satellite is irrelevant. Why? For one, the art of being human demands an audience. And just as I see every moment of our waking lives as a rounded clay prayer bead, I see every molder in each of those moments as both art and artist. We are each of us teachers, some by profession and the rest by default, and as Steinbeck once wrote, "teaching might even be the greatest of the arts since the medium is the human spirit." While the process of learning through our living requires attentive exploration of our most intimate realities to be human really means to be connected, to be teachers. From my perspective, it matters not what we get out of going on technology fasts, retreats, or hermitages. It matters not if this is proper preparation for the profound aloneness. What matters, instead, is what do others get? What can we offer to others both while we're away and once we return? It's important to remember, for it's quite easy to forget: in going away, we must always return.