Monday, June 24, 2002

The Crone Chants a Full Moon Om.
The full moon commands the deep night sky. I take my ritual outside, stand with arms outstretched to the bright promise of the moon. I wear the shirt on which I painted the magic mandala. I chant. Aum. Aum. Aum -- the sacred sound of OM. I watch the thin strands of clouds move into the form of the syllable. There is no wind. There is no sound other than the hum of the universe.

Sons are borne. Sons are born. Sons are borne. This full moon is for my son, too far away to see the sky as I see it. Across the continent, tonight I send magic through the ether. Tomorrow, I send magic through the mail. The Crone chants Om. Om. Om. See the mandala moon. Chant Om. Intend. Become.
Blogdom as the Village Water Pump
From an print newspaper article by Jay Bookman, who writes for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution:

In his 1964-classic "Understanding Media," Marshall McLuhan related the story of several post war villages in India where UNESCO, the United National relief agency, had installed pipes to deliver running water to each home. After a few months, village elders went to UNESCO officials and asked that the pipes be ripped out.

The villagers had realized that nobody congregated any longer at the village well, where they used to wait in line to fill their water jugs. The well had been the communal center of village life, the place where gossip was exchanged and village values reinforced. It was the place where the village met to create a sense of identity.

I suppose that when "The Well" was created, the idea was to bring that village well into cyberspace. What has really accomplished that miracle, however, is blogging. We meet here to exchange gossip, reinforce "geek" values, argue politics, and share opinions on everything from gender issues to software preferences. And, just like at the old village water pump, we each establish our very specific voice, recognizable after a while by all of the others who gather with us. Then instead of a couple of us going back to my hut to balance some herbal refreshment on our laps while we hash over more personal trials and tribulations, we e-mail or instant message, with our cups of coffee or tea balanced (just as precariously) on our CPUs.

Just as the village values were reinforced at the village water pump, the values of a non-discriminatory, free-speaking global village are constantly being reinforced at the flowing pump of our collective blogs. We are becoming a village with our own identity.