I am sitting outside. No need to hurry. What lies ahead exists just here. Whatever you have zipped up in your bags, whatever you bring, I am sure is sufficient. I am just sitting here.
I do not wish to forge ahead. As far as i can tell, we are not forging ahead into the future. It comes, like waves and tidal heaves, it comes. It is sufficient to be present to it, and should we feel playful, to catch some waves, Of course, we are the waves, we are the passing of time. So I am happy here, just sitting. Just sitting, and yet part of the passing of time, part of the wave.
I have invited you to lead to take steps, and you have taken this as hurry. We have bumped into one another already. Perhaps in the doorway. We have seen nothing yet, but ourselves. But now I am just sitting. I am looking at the horizon. It is flat, there is nothing solid, no point to draw my attention.
I engaged you today, in person. We bumped against pne another several times. You unfold the map that is your workshop, the diagrams of peaks in the past, the agricultural and industrial revolution, and the present, beyond which you see the rivers of change, of collaboration, self-determination and the rest of the 21st century. I look flatly at it, Nothing much occurs in my head, I see the representation, the diagrams of a person standing on land, stepping into water, wearing wellies, swimming or drowning. An introduction, you say, an invitation, you say, to stimulate discussion, to deteremine where we are. I know where we are, right here. I don't need a map. But I can see how it may be useful to others. And there is a blindness in me, or at least a blindness to maps, a dislike for representation, I like to keep my eyes open and viewing the world, the stream of time passing.