A Secant Query

Between New and Suns

Wherein the quality of light is dynamic...

Between New and Suns

There Are New Suns

A given sun feel unknowably vast. Philosophical. Poetic. It also feel immediate. Day. Dawn.

Nothing new under the sun, but there are new suns.
— epigram for Trickster, Octavia Butler

The sun of discovery. The sun of uncovering. The dark star of debt. The dark star of crime. The sun of moral good. The sun of wonder. The sun of ripeness. Sun of screentime. The sun of need.

All suns have a starbirth timestamp, modulo every other star; All these stars arrived in context. (All stars are relational.)

No star is an island. Every light is its own light. A signature resolves, in translational loss. Develops patina, has a taste, bounds.

Evolution Is Forgetting

A lot of what happens never gets written down. Writing is the star of what got written down. To write is to play with bringing words into the world. Take some flour and corn starch.

Mix these. Put half in one bowl. Half in the other. You can combine these two bowls. No new star. You can also put half of one bowl into the other bowl. You now have a bowl-and-a-half. And half-a bowl. As this is the year of uncovering words for what hurts, we might give this relationship a word: pluplophgu (or, in 1kglish🌐: one-to-two).

We might agree on what this word means. And now we have a new sun. You can say pluplophgu and I can say it soulds as though you are making the noise of a flour cornstarch mix falling halfway out of one bowl, into another bowl. You can say one-to-two (1:2), and I can say it's like you are talking about ratios - are the ratios about how much flour-to-cornstarch, or are the ratios about how much mix in each bowl.

Where I say the latter, you might feel I am following along. Where I say the former, you might feel any numb-er of things:

Love and malice differ in context; shift the context, love becomes malice. Reversing the context, malice becomes love. Where a neighbor adopts belief "x is all you need", I now live next to someone who believes the have "solved for x". In one context this belief slaps. In another context, this belief kills. Both contexts may have positive connotation. And, context holding for some time, the belief may sink down - further and further - until the belief constitutes a core belief:

I believe there are new suns.

Just Add Water

I have with me a grain flour and a root starch. I combine the two, thoroughly. And divide the two between two bowls. I then pour half of one into the other. At this moment (where I have poured half of one into the other), my future self sits next to me, to ask after my measurements. Luckily, everything has been in halves, so any number and its half will do. The beautiful thing about not being a cell is molecular precision is no longer a factor.

Which is a quite lovely thought.

Let me begin anew. I have just formed, am yawning. I have my one bowl, and my other bowl. In the one bowl, I have all the contents. I pour half into another bowl. And I pour half from this other bowl back into the one bowl. I have uncovered a new amount. A recursive-half! That's not the word at all!

A quarter-half! That's... closer to the word. But that is a very confusing word. It is not common to say "quarter half". It is uncommon. It is rare. English is first-and-foremost concerned with efficiencies; And a quarter-half would take some tender loving care. It would require explaination. Neighbors would have to be informed. And would be confused. It would expose neighbors to something they don't know. Which could scare the neighbor. They could enter a panic attack.

They could die.

Let me begin anew. I have my quarter-bowl and my three-quarters bowl. Of these two halves I will take the quarter half, and -

(get it some water.)[#just-add-water] I might take some leaves from outside - anything green and juice these leaves into the quarter half. I might roll this into an orb, and set it aside, in its bowl. I might call this my green orb. Into the three-quarters half, I might take anything that isn't green and juice that into the three-quarters half.

I have some tumeric, so I might do that. Now I kneed into the half that isn't a green orb the tumeric. And I have this yellow orb. It is in the bowl the green orb is not in.

I happen to have these bowls on a potter's wheel. The larger, yellow orb is in the center of the wheel. The smaller green orb is in the outskits. As I stim on ghe wheel, it can appear as though the green orb is tracing a ring around the yellow orb. I might call this ring an eye. But why would I do that when orb-it is right there. Or, bitter, I might call it two orbs of grain and root in bowls on a potter's wheel.

new suns

🌐 - Haiku (a poetry form) is like the ten-hundred most-common words (a poetry form); A helper for writing in the latter poetry form exists here: https://xkcd.com/simplewriter/

🧑‍⚕️ - https://thisismylast.bearblog.dev/the-need-to-be-needed/

🧑‍🎄 - https://dissonanttimes.org/disabled-love-time-is-an-access-need/

🧟 - "How are you?"

🧛 - "Immortal."

🕵️ - "Are you sure?*"

🧑‍🌾 - "Yes."

🧑‍💻 - https://www.policyalternatives.ca/news-research/beneath-the-cloud-the-land/

🧑‍🏫 - https://macleans.ca/education/my-classroom-will-be-ai-free-this-fall/

👮 - "How about now?"