An English In Kentucky


















 Wednesday May 18th 2016Tim Candler9


      I've long held the idea that we multi-cellular creatures would do well to pause in the progress of our understanding so that we might imagine our past. Specifically that moment when single cells combined, a union that proved useful, and the question is How did we do it? One answer is to contemplate the Slime Mold. A Slime Mold is a single celled Amoeba type creature that under certain circumstances will combine with other Slime Molds to form a structure that is capable of movement, is better able to find food and these structures are also how Slime Molds reproduce. There are a great many kinds of Slime Mold, the one that lurks near the Compost Piles is currently blissfully happy as each of it's tiny parts wander lonely as a little clouds feasting merrily, but soon these conditions of plenty will fall to a famine and this Slime Mold will raise the flag, it will come together, briefly conference, determine its options and proceed accordingly. Usually it wanders very slowly as a yellowish group, a few remaining communal meals and then it decides to bloom.




      If you think of our bodies, we have sight, we have hearing, we have a mind that calculates, we have a system of emotions that often determines our choices and we can feel things through touch. And there's whole area of activity, occupation, ingenuity, getting up in the morning that sometimes we celebrate through Art. Music entertains through ears. Painting, sculpture and so on entertains through the eyes, but what is it that entertains the mind through touch. Leave aside the important relationships between emotion, eyes, hearing, touch and our own blooming I think you'll find that pretty much everything we do employs touch of one kind or another and yet touch has no art. The argument I truly enjoy is that because there is no Art of Touch, we as creatures are the Art form of Touch and everything else we do is a reflection of touch. It's not an idea that falls easily on a mind that calculates, demands a definition of Touch, so I'm looking forward to a change in the weather so I might again say hello to my friend down there amongst the compost piles. 


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