Charlotte, we have not spoken very much but the work you and Mark have done with Dark Mountain has been such a massive presence in my house and relationship. I thoroughly loved the workshops I was able to attend and the care and thoughtfulness put into them, much of that by Mark. I’m so sorry to hear of the bad news. Sending love to you with a deep sense of gratitude for the gifts you and Mark gave so generously. Blessings to you and all at DM.
Thank you so much Randall, that's really kind. We will all miss Mark terribly. As you say, he was intrinsic to our DM workshops, and in my whole life. So glad they bore fruit and you that you could come. Sending love to you and to Mark's favourite American desert tree, cottonwood. Charlotte
I am a very quiet follower of Dark Mountain since early days. I had access to copies of a friend who collected them. I too worked in journalism in the early 80’s. We may have shared a staircase at Nat Mags or crossed paths during London Fashion Week. I want to send my deepest deepest condolences. I am a new widow and all I can say is, treat yourself with the utmost compassion. Take all the help offered, and feel all the love coming to you. My sympathies wing through this online world to you. ❤️🌀❤️
Dear Charlotte, can you escape the earth-turning reality of being-in-time? Have you unwittingly compounded the optical illusion that moon moves above a horizon, with the cognitive illusions of word formulations, describing this consensus-reality notion? Committing the reification-fallacy sin of missing the mark of Cosmic Reality, by endorsing the labyrinthine nature of our communication biased consciousness? I recommend doing what your ancient sisters did at Temple sites like Abu Simbell & noticing the menstrual cycle nature of why African women say their spirit is of the 🌙
I'm reading this with an early morning cup of tea before I travel to a conference on AI in Education. AI technology is a new kind of labyrinth, with a beast that, when captured by a destructive master, will cause havoc. I'm already in a dance with it. Amazed by the unfolding possibilities of this new dance, but also aware of the tensions.
The essay took me back to Crete, to the morning walk around Knossos with the sounds of the peacocks, and the hot sun rising. The incredible pots and decorations in the museum in town. The snake dancing priestesses. I have one on my altar.
I spend much time tramping around industrial estates, as my husband photographs this urban landscape. I also find a beauty in these wastelands where nature will start its reclaimation once the industry is abandoned. Often they lie on the edge of town, on the borders between the city limits and the remnants of the wild beyond.
Tonight I shall be dancing,
after my immersion in artificial intelligence (which is not -yet-sentient) and in my dance will go deep to meet those Minonian snake priestesses within the labyrinth.
Charlotte, we have not spoken very much but the work you and Mark have done with Dark Mountain has been such a massive presence in my house and relationship. I thoroughly loved the workshops I was able to attend and the care and thoughtfulness put into them, much of that by Mark. I’m so sorry to hear of the bad news. Sending love to you with a deep sense of gratitude for the gifts you and Mark gave so generously. Blessings to you and all at DM.
Thank you so much Randall, that's really kind. We will all miss Mark terribly. As you say, he was intrinsic to our DM workshops, and in my whole life. So glad they bore fruit and you that you could come. Sending love to you and to Mark's favourite American desert tree, cottonwood. Charlotte
Dear Charlotte
I am a very quiet follower of Dark Mountain since early days. I had access to copies of a friend who collected them. I too worked in journalism in the early 80’s. We may have shared a staircase at Nat Mags or crossed paths during London Fashion Week. I want to send my deepest deepest condolences. I am a new widow and all I can say is, treat yourself with the utmost compassion. Take all the help offered, and feel all the love coming to you. My sympathies wing through this online world to you. ❤️🌀❤️
Dear Charlotte, can you escape the earth-turning reality of being-in-time? Have you unwittingly compounded the optical illusion that moon moves above a horizon, with the cognitive illusions of word formulations, describing this consensus-reality notion? Committing the reification-fallacy sin of missing the mark of Cosmic Reality, by endorsing the labyrinthine nature of our communication biased consciousness? I recommend doing what your ancient sisters did at Temple sites like Abu Simbell & noticing the menstrual cycle nature of why African women say their spirit is of the 🌙
I'm reading this with an early morning cup of tea before I travel to a conference on AI in Education. AI technology is a new kind of labyrinth, with a beast that, when captured by a destructive master, will cause havoc. I'm already in a dance with it. Amazed by the unfolding possibilities of this new dance, but also aware of the tensions.
The essay took me back to Crete, to the morning walk around Knossos with the sounds of the peacocks, and the hot sun rising. The incredible pots and decorations in the museum in town. The snake dancing priestesses. I have one on my altar.
I spend much time tramping around industrial estates, as my husband photographs this urban landscape. I also find a beauty in these wastelands where nature will start its reclaimation once the industry is abandoned. Often they lie on the edge of town, on the borders between the city limits and the remnants of the wild beyond.
Tonight I shall be dancing,
after my immersion in artificial intelligence (which is not -yet-sentient) and in my dance will go deep to meet those Minonian snake priestesses within the labyrinth.