Category Archives: kenneth
Geopoetics in motion
Feel free to click. The Scottish Centre for Geopoetics, led by Scottish poet & essayist Norman Bissell, released Stravaig online. Issue 1 has found freedom inside the cyberworld and its content is exciting! Friends, poets, writers, essayists, artists, photographers, designers and filmakers creatively mapped, chartered inside one world. It’s… Exciting! There is a place for everyone who practises the discipline of intellectual nomadism.
I still remember a friend who once asked me, “what is Geopoetics?” My poetic heart & mind attempted to describe something like “the natural art of opening to a world, finding our place within it and celebrating our connection with this very world within the realms of every rock, mountain and shore… This natural, real world, in which every rock, shell, sandgrain, snowflake, birdsong, flower counts. Not somebody’s delusional mind – but the very cross-disciplinary movement to this world in which our human intelligence interacts. The widening of our knowledge to cross-cultural bonds, just like the crossing of continents via the ancient (now submerged) land bridges… Kenneth White speaks of walking away from those motorways of western civilisations in which too many generations of our ancestors met a dead-end by keeping their scope on one-way roads. Geopoetics offers freedom to wander whilst embracing a world intelligence, the human spirit and creative genius, irrespective of civilisation. This international movement has found many adepts over time, and The Scottish Centre for Geopoetics belongs to this Archipelago of current, practising intellectual nomads for our region (and beyond), which remains, White’s native homeground.
Changement de pavillon linguistique
Le nomadisme ne connaît pas de frontière!
Cela me chatouillait depuis quelque temps… A bon traducteur Google, salut!
C’est en surfant sur le blog copain québéquois de La Taversée que je me suis dit,
“Eh bien quoi, pourquoi pas un petit détour géopoétique SPECIAL FRANCOPHONE POUR UNE FOIS?” Après tout, cela ne fait de mal à personne!
Que mes lecteurs se délectent dans une langue qui fait le bonheur des deux côtés de l’Atlantique Nord 🙂
Pour toutes celles et tous ceux qui ne connaissent pas cet atelier de géopoétique, allez donc surfer sur le lien suivant (que vous trouverez également sur le côté droit du blog sous l’inscription: “Constellations”)
Benoît, Victoria et les amis de La Traversée, bonjour du milieu de l’Atlantique!
Mr Kenneth White ne cesse d’agrandir son archipel et regarder le monde à partir d’une île se révèle à la fois fort agréable et aventureux, puisque la longue vue vous permet, à partir d’une péninsule, la vision hyper-grand angle… Une longue vue, voire un télescope! Quel bonheur de se trouver balayé(e) par les vents, maquillé(e) par les embruns tout en se disant que, de toute façon, mieux vaut les odeurs d’iode et de kelp pourri que celles des abattoirs ou des longues queues aux embouchures d’autoroutes… Ha-ha, la vie d’insulaire sur cette latitude a le goût de sel!
Chers amis du Canada, et du monde francophone,
je vous suis sur vos blogs respectifs, et j’aime vous lire quelque soit la langue choisie.
Ce mode d’expression reflette assez bien l’esprit de Kenneth White, qui se plaît à converser oralement ou à l’écrit dans ces deux langues, que je considère “jumelles”.
saturday dusk treasures
I love my island at sunset.
Fire reverberates on each sandgrain; sandstones find pleasure on washed kelp… Feathers and stones always write stories in that earth tongue one does not always understand.
As feet find their roots in wet sand, I become one with Arcania.
There, on my way to daily walk by the shore, I kept in mind the text I read earlier that day, which I received from our curach skipper Macdougall. To my humble nomadic heart, it resonated like a message in a bottle. It speaks of continental inscriptions: geographaphs, chronographs, phonographs and paragraphs. It notably took me back to Gulliver, Friday and Robinson Crusoe.
This bridge of sand allows such trek. From mainland to island – just as Kenneth White runs away from motorways of western civilisations! My sandbrige provides the shoormal – this critical edge as Diaz calls it; rite of passage to my topical paradise, where north Atlantic protects its natural causeway at high tides, like some self-defence mechanism… Others can look from the distance or wander through without knowing…
It’s big enough to sustain all kinds of assaults, pulls of the moon and man-made signatures. The water acts as a rubber and deletes traces from one’s feet.
Earlier this year, I painted it with pixels. This blog entry was entitled Snapshots from Arcania …A summer before that, I painted it with words.
Strange feelings have filled my heart since yesterday.
In the light of the spoon-fed world, I was saddened by the news of Scotland’s greatest poet the 20th century has ever met. Mr Morgan has inhabited my creative star ever since I collided with that visionary rendez-vous.
Native American wisdom reminds us all there is no death – only a change of world
Very well. Let’s celebrate the poetics of such great man. Instinctively, I read it out to a close friend as a remedy to poison. His spoken world is alive forever. The only link I need to add is my favourite space poem of his… offcourse
Such moment of glory resonates forever. Unlike any rock or metal, it will neither erode or corrode… However exposed to the sea.
in-between Glasgow and Sandwick
Look at the light, climbing up the aerial
Bright, white coming alive jumping off the aerial
All the time it’s a changing, like now…
All the time it’s a changing, like then again…
All the time it’s a changing
Listening carefully to Kenneth White’s interviews on the links below is like collecting stones we find on our way during our life journey.
So many rocks across the world…
Adrift and yet attached to a tongue of sand, we feel the connection with one shared place, primal source of being and living, eyes wide open to earth movements.
It is a time of letting loose our senses, not only sight but hearing, smelling and touching… Then we can start and collect earth songs, moments, emotions, just like pebbles or various shells.
It feels just like a “communion” with our inner self; harmony within our world and universe. It is not trivial at all as an exercise, it just feels natural.
And then we drift away from the shore and realise we find erratics on our way, much bigger stones, like left alone by a mother who’s had enough… Hmmm, in ancient times, folk imagined trolls and giants playing with them – massive boulder throwing contests. Folklore was woven this way and still feels very much part of local culture(s). So much have they been locked up in that bubble called superstition.
Today we’re at crossroads. Freed from dogmas and ignorance, we have a much better understanding of our world and yet we are led in living in another type of bubble – what I once described as the artificial world in a previous blog entry (“Captain Nemo’s Still My Hero”). If we allow ourselves to drift again, we may opt for a more challenging life and find ourselves as erratics… But then again, what businessmen or politicians consider non-profitable remains priceless to the intellectual nomad: being, breathing and feeling in harmony with Mother Earth.
So much industrial, economic and technological progress has been achieved the vast majority of folk now live behind artificial walls, disconnected from their inner spirit and that of their surroundings. Some attempt to re-create a microcosm of wildlerness within the boundaries of an urban garden (and yes, I once did this as well!) though very few of us dare to tear down the wall and venture to a brand new shore. We have to work hard to find our place within a strange community; adapt our ways, customs & form of speech and make ourselves acceptable… Whatever size of that community, It’s very daunting; it sometimes feels like sailing against the wind… Yet what better way to enrich ourselves as human beings – embracing more than one culture makes one feel so much more complete. Ha! A radical change towards material wealth rekindles the way we value life on Earth.
Kenneth White speaks of rocks he’s collected along the many paths he’s walked on the planet and defines himself as materialistic owning them. To him, they feel like gem stones.
I adhere to this philosophy, I too collect stones on the way. What is financial wealth when man starves himself of simple down to earth pleasures?
And will leave you with a short piece on this rocky topic & with Kenneth White’s recordings.
© Nat Hall
Note on the two video links: The father of geopoetics is a true francophone and francophile, a European intellectual nomad!
…Or the snowball effect.
Social networks are fantastic. Not only do we keep in touch with “friends” but make new ones. Hence networking allows the nomadic spirit to explore brand new trails.
As 2009 draws to an end, I am now fully connected with the world of Kenneth White, as introduced to Geopoetics by fellow island poet, essayist & friend Norman Bissell.
The more I delve in this concept, the more it speaks to me (either in English or in French!).
So I am looking forward to contributing to the Forums from Geopoetics’ Scottish Centre and “walk the shore”. Funny enough, Norrie confessed I was to become its most northerly member… Meanwhile, am devouring Grounding a World as my freshest substantifique moelle.