I’m with you on this journey, Dougald. On my returns to the US, I’m always reminded of the gifts of ‘small talk’ as it’s called. It’s one of the things they’re very good at. And your (and Illich’s) thoughts on ‘rests’ is the gift I’ll take with me going forward.
Thanks for your story Dougald, and the copy of ‘Ruins’, which arrived in Melbourne yesterday. This idea of ‘rests’ as in music is helpful.
As you say, you have to learn to see them, like silences. But mostly the pace of life pushes me on without those times to breathe, to notice, to glimpse patterns, like neighbouring.
I’ve been enjoying the full moon over the last few days, which has been stunning in Melbourne. Today I went back over my journal, not something I usually do. But in that rest I saw a rhythm: a poem gifted by a friend reappeared exactly a month later in a more developed guise that I’d also appropriated, taken into myself.
I didn’t know I was doing that work until I paused, attended to the rest and recognised the gift, which had arisen out of neighbourliness.
North America has fewer and fewer soulful, built places, and a long history of bad cities. I know Europe in many ways is doing its best to move towards the lifeless, but at least the scale and a long history of interlinking villages gives you something to hang your hat on. Are you familiar with Christopher Alexander's The Pattern Language books? If not, I'm sure you would find much to inspire you in them. I am slogging through his second series called The Nature of Order, which is mostly exhilarating, though sometimes tiring in its argument, but it makes a strong case for a way of thinking about and encouraging living structures in all things and I think would be a great companion for Illich in your thinking about Living Culture.
Oh Jack, The Pattern Language was one of my greatest treasures. Only just in conversation this week that title emerged in conversation, and with it the fond memories of diagrams that were art, as were the ideas. The book was lent out and is somewhere on that ephemeral journey that is book country, where they fellow their own spirit and agendas.
Now you tell me that book has a family? You've added an extra push to see if Pattern is still available, but I've been afraid to look in case, well, disappointments are distracting, and I'm trying to marshall all my spare energy to the work in the air in this community - work that has been calling me as an insistent taskmaster for decades - but I never knew there was a village I could walk into where there was a pub where people might know what I was getting at. Maybe even buy me a drink. Like you just did. Cheers. Guess the next round's on me?
How lovely that you got to visit Illich's one time office, and how appropriate that it would be a bathroom now, showing just what the consumption complex thinks of his thinking. And how interesting that when we talk about the "ruins," we are often talking about "upgraded" places: modern, shiny, soulless.
I had a somewhat similar experience when I visited my Alma Mater, Colorado State University, a few years ago. When I studied there, in the early 1980's, the basement of the Student Union was occupied by various student groups, in rooms with large windows and an open area between with tables and chairs for meeting and conversation. Along with the environmental group, which I had joined, there were groups for women, Latinos, gays and lesbians, marijuana legalization and other causes. We could see into each other's offices and get to know one another in an open, inviting atmosphere. I returned, however, to find all that gone. There were still a few student groups, but they were behind doors in windowless rooms down a hallway which looked little used. I went to visit my dormitory, but t he doors, which we used to come freely in and out of, were locked for security. Something profound had been lost. I was standing in the ruins of "progress."
The Vikings rested plenty in North East England where leftovers remained (at least in my family) the less usual, alien word for... rest. I recall the sensemaking as a child, the idea of a break from feasting, relaxing within and elongating eating experiences, the putting down or away of the food that was precious and frequently insufficient but could still be savoured and relied upon and when cooking, the oven fresh roasts, resting to perfection.
I'm not surprised that Illich was drawn to the word; how convivial for meal and man to repose alike. His sense use of 'remnant' or 'rememberance' is totally new to me though. Thanks for the travelogue from that strange academialand.
In French, the word for leftovers is “les restes”.
Glad to hear you’ve arrived safely in the US and I look forward to following your travels and encounters from the other side of the pond.
I’m with you on this journey, Dougald. On my returns to the US, I’m always reminded of the gifts of ‘small talk’ as it’s called. It’s one of the things they’re very good at. And your (and Illich’s) thoughts on ‘rests’ is the gift I’ll take with me going forward.
Thanks for your story Dougald, and the copy of ‘Ruins’, which arrived in Melbourne yesterday. This idea of ‘rests’ as in music is helpful.
As you say, you have to learn to see them, like silences. But mostly the pace of life pushes me on without those times to breathe, to notice, to glimpse patterns, like neighbouring.
I’ve been enjoying the full moon over the last few days, which has been stunning in Melbourne. Today I went back over my journal, not something I usually do. But in that rest I saw a rhythm: a poem gifted by a friend reappeared exactly a month later in a more developed guise that I’d also appropriated, taken into myself.
I didn’t know I was doing that work until I paused, attended to the rest and recognised the gift, which had arisen out of neighbourliness.
North America has fewer and fewer soulful, built places, and a long history of bad cities. I know Europe in many ways is doing its best to move towards the lifeless, but at least the scale and a long history of interlinking villages gives you something to hang your hat on. Are you familiar with Christopher Alexander's The Pattern Language books? If not, I'm sure you would find much to inspire you in them. I am slogging through his second series called The Nature of Order, which is mostly exhilarating, though sometimes tiring in its argument, but it makes a strong case for a way of thinking about and encouraging living structures in all things and I think would be a great companion for Illich in your thinking about Living Culture.
Oh Jack, The Pattern Language was one of my greatest treasures. Only just in conversation this week that title emerged in conversation, and with it the fond memories of diagrams that were art, as were the ideas. The book was lent out and is somewhere on that ephemeral journey that is book country, where they fellow their own spirit and agendas.
Now you tell me that book has a family? You've added an extra push to see if Pattern is still available, but I've been afraid to look in case, well, disappointments are distracting, and I'm trying to marshall all my spare energy to the work in the air in this community - work that has been calling me as an insistent taskmaster for decades - but I never knew there was a village I could walk into where there was a pub where people might know what I was getting at. Maybe even buy me a drink. Like you just did. Cheers. Guess the next round's on me?
How lovely that you got to visit Illich's one time office, and how appropriate that it would be a bathroom now, showing just what the consumption complex thinks of his thinking. And how interesting that when we talk about the "ruins," we are often talking about "upgraded" places: modern, shiny, soulless.
I had a somewhat similar experience when I visited my Alma Mater, Colorado State University, a few years ago. When I studied there, in the early 1980's, the basement of the Student Union was occupied by various student groups, in rooms with large windows and an open area between with tables and chairs for meeting and conversation. Along with the environmental group, which I had joined, there were groups for women, Latinos, gays and lesbians, marijuana legalization and other causes. We could see into each other's offices and get to know one another in an open, inviting atmosphere. I returned, however, to find all that gone. There were still a few student groups, but they were behind doors in windowless rooms down a hallway which looked little used. I went to visit my dormitory, but t he doors, which we used to come freely in and out of, were locked for security. Something profound had been lost. I was standing in the ruins of "progress."
So intrigued and pleased that a Swedish speaker is focusing on Illich. Looking forward to reading more of your work.
Brilliant connection to Illich.
Great seeing you in person!
The Vikings rested plenty in North East England where leftovers remained (at least in my family) the less usual, alien word for... rest. I recall the sensemaking as a child, the idea of a break from feasting, relaxing within and elongating eating experiences, the putting down or away of the food that was precious and frequently insufficient but could still be savoured and relied upon and when cooking, the oven fresh roasts, resting to perfection.
I'm not surprised that Illich was drawn to the word; how convivial for meal and man to repose alike. His sense use of 'remnant' or 'rememberance' is totally new to me though. Thanks for the travelogue from that strange academialand.
Beautiful story. Glad to hear the tour is yielding some fun and unexpected adventures.
I hadn't heard of The Challenges of Ivan Illich, but you've persuaded me to order a copy!