We are immersed in the atmosphere that rings the planet (as shown in this image from Nasa). In this continuous curve, the sky is always above every location. This status of sphere and sky can tell us something about space and some of what it means to inhabit the ups and downs of space.
I am very interested in a common depiction of a relationship between earth (ground) and sky in drawings of children. There is often a fascinating space in which there is nothing between them, No direct tether between the earth and its atmosphere. In the drawing from Doodle Boat by a 10-year-old boy from Panama, I'm fascinated by the short arc of a sky, like a blue ribbon, a prize —I guess I do consider the atmosphere a form of prize, a gift. And the arc is right, a piece of atmospheric ring is captured, an independent ring that is a part of the community rather than something that embraces the whole surface of the earth. I did draw trees that linked both sky and earth, but admittedly, these were very strange trees, much taller than any terrestrial trees now growing. Of course living trees and prehistoric trees both routinely touch sky and earth with branches and roots. There is no gap between the atmospheric skirt and the earth (land and water) that the hem of atmospheric skirt touches. Indeed; branches may be understood as a root system feeding from atmosphere just as a root system takes food from dirt. The bifurcating system of branches resembles the bifurcating bronchial subsystem of the human respiratory system (as shown in the image from Bailey Bio), and performs a related function, delivering oxygen into the atmosphere whereas our breathing delivers CO2. A bifurcating pattern repeats in a leaf's signature veins (as shown here in a hydrangea leaf from Webster's online dictionary, illustrating an anastomosis: a network of streams that both branch out and reconnect, such as blood vessels or leaf veins, a feather, such as the one pictured here found by a patio grill. In the palm of the hand that picked up the feather is a forking pattern that reveals details about my life when the forking leads to the enterprise of fortune tellers and/or to various forms of traditional medicine. Though I may have felt something electrical stimulating never in my hand when holding hands with lovers, the lines did not glow; I lack some of the bioluminescence of fireflies and deep sea fishes, but the feeling did seem to bifurcate or radiate; to move in forks of passion.
With a feather, we fly into an opportunity to reframe an understanding of birds and dinosaurs, yielding when constructed with researchers' more informed understanding, a more domesticated T-rex, one that was feathered, a nesting ancestor of chickens who protected the eggs. Perhaps it's time for a remake of Jurassic Park, one in which T-rex might cluck. Watch an excerpt below, and below that excerpt, you can watch another excerpt (from Dinosaurs: Return to Life? a Science Channel [where I saw it] documentary) in which researchers successfully activate in a chicken embryo deeply embedded genetic memory of a distant past as a dinosaur. At particular stages in embryonic development, genetic information that would produce a dinosaur tail and dinosaur teeth are switched off, allowing the chicken to develop without dinosaur attributes that evolution has suppressed, but has not erased so that the chicken remains connected to dinosaur ancestry. Perhaps there is even more evolutionary marking than anyone can demonstrate at this moment, or that, in some configuration of ethics, should not be explored, especially regarding possible genetic memory in human embryos.
(Click here to watch the entire documentary)
This link takes you to Veoh where you may watch the entire documentary
—by the way, iPhone, iPod, iPad users; it's a link to a flash video
I wave my hands and bat about the air, so it's not as if I play no sports at all. I open a path in air, parting a sea of it, as I walk, disturbing molecules, ripping the air that closes around me —I like think of the temporary displacement as a form of fizzing in a little local frenzy of temporary disturbance. Is this a useful frame of an interaction with air beyond breathing? Is it practical? Useless or impractical for others framing what I've framed, it remains, for now, a personalization of what happened between me and some molecules that were mine to displace in the displacement. Something may happen to cause me to reconfigure what I've said, no matter how pleasing the poetry of it (to me). I can picture this displacement as fizz all around me, even under my feet as each foot lifts in a walk through displacement. I would think that fizz might offer an interesting model for a reframing of halo, one more dynamic, one that could approximate externally a configuration of what happens internally when an idea buzzes electrically in the mind, as if made of a swarm of the tiniest fireflies. This is a partial accuracy of how something was experienced, not of how something was observed, though metaphor may be used to help enhance the accuracy of observation, to help someone see what is being described or explained in a more particular way, closer to what the metaphor attempts to depict, the design of the metaphor meant to frame information in a way that excludes other configurations while the metaphor is being navigated. Sometimes facts and numbers alone do not create a picture that might be filed in the mind in a more complex manner, reframing a concept as a landscape or environment to inhabit and/or experience sensually. Metaphor [re]frames through what may be understood as attempts to clarify what is being experienced, extending aspects of something already understood to include, transforming both itself and what is being embraced, something momentarily outside of either understanding or, in its apparent newness, a way to reference it other than by linking it to similarities which can provide some confidence to continue.
I hope to find at least a smidgen of likeness on some scale for some duration of time everywhere —here a fork, there a fork, everywhere a forking frame. Smidgen after smidgen with their invitation to connect their dots into ever lengthening tines (the image of dots of stars connected into perceptual [only] configurations of astrological fortune and misfortune, big and little dippers emptying and filling with dreams and wishes, patterns we find again and again, hoping for a stability seldom pinned on more variable and more reachable clouds; these dots of stars are from physics.csbsju.edu)=)