Saturday, January 27, 2007


Last night, a bead on a page, a bead that becomes liquid and grows, strings across like the web of an invisible spider. The strings connect with each other to become letter, which become words, which become sentences, ideas, what you may be reading now…

Last night, a bead, many beads inside a box become a percussion instrument, a shaker. The rhythm of the shaker connects with music, which combines to become new music, which connects with the movement in your body, in our bodies, in what we are dancing now…

Last night, a bead of an idea, a bead that becomes liquid and grows, strings between your head and your heart. The strings of web connect with those of another to become plan, which connects with others to become endeavor, which becomes new architecture, a new innovation rising before us…

Tonight a bead casts its liquid strand from my being to the web of the world…can you catch it?

( ) () ( ) () ( ) () ( ) () () ( ) () ( ) ( ) ( ) ( )( ) () ( ) () ( ) () ( () ( )

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.
– William Shakespeare

We don't accomplish anything in this world alone ... and whatever happens is the result of the whole tapestry of one's life and all the weavings of individual threads from one to another that creates something.
– Sandra Day O’Connor

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