Flow Patterns—On the road North America. Where better to ponder the nature
of flowing movement than sitting next to a stream. And it is not just what we see, but also
what we hear. I've always felt that, just as the earthy smell of freshly turned farm
soil contains somehow the whole of smell, so too the noisy roar of whitewater rushing
contains the whole of sound. Perhaps this is why many find such smells & sounds
to be profoundly healing, because they take us back to some ground, to something
basic, to something before the beginning of time:

A Meditation on Movement . . .

Life-like mechanical simulations of outward patterns of movement
do not mean that we have necessarily understood or discovered the inner
workings of the generation of organic form. The computer programmed
to make a rubato while performing Bach does not do so because it is
actually listening, or because of the rubato's perceived meaning within
the movement of the piece as a whole. Nor have the stunningly beautiful
computer displays of fern-like fractals necessarily captured the essence
of the fern's inner formative movements.

What the program programs is the intellect manifest in past performances;
what it necessarily leaves out is listening itself—or intelligence—which
is not of the past, but always now, of the present moment.

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