The Spell of the Sensuous

I have begun reading “The Spell of the Sensuous” by David Abram. He writes “The simple premise of this book is that we are human only in contact, and conviviality, with what is not human...Direct sensuous reality, in all its more-than-human mystery, remains the sole solid touchstone for an experiential world now inundated with electronically generated vistas and engineered pleasures; only in regular contact with the tangible ground and sky can we learn how to orient and to navigate in the multiple dimensions that now claim us.” This book is helping put words to the shapes of ideas and feelings I have had on this trip, and at various points in my life.
I wade into the stream to wash my clothes on the rocks. This is my first time attempting this, like the locals would do. All the other times have been at the well. Some of my clothes are very dirty and are on their way to being permanently dyed by the fusion of hot baking sun on the red dirt. The water is very high and fast today (since the last three days have been rainy) and threatens to dislodge my footing, but I find my rocks and settle my feet into the stream bed. I feel the water rushing past my thighs and hips but I lock-in my legs. For one hour I wash my clothes. I think of nothing else but feel the sensation of the moving water, small pebbles underfoot, slippery soap, coarse and soft fabric and the hot sun pouring down on my neck, back and arms. The sound of the stream is the soundtrack to my efforts and mayflies dance around the rocks. I smell the fragrance of the soap and the fresh coolness of rushing water. My leg muscles are engaged and tense. My arm is tiring. I've never been so immersed in doing my laundry.

Outside the kitchen, I find this millipede, and it is beautiful. I pick it up in my hand to feel how it walks. Its method of locomotion is precise, rhythmic and...perfect. The sensation of its legs on my arms and hands is that of fluid Velcro...gripping and lifting in segmented waves.

I spend a long time watching and analyzing one of the species of ants on the vines outside of the kitchen. I wonder what they are doing there and try to figure them out. Their antennae float about as they cluster around the base of each leaf, where it connects to the petiole. Where the ants are, the leaf is more translucent. There is a set of relationships between the ant, the vine, and most likely a myriad of other elements, but I cannot fathom what they are.

I decide to feed the chickens some corn kernels. In the cluster of chickens I notice one rooster who seems to be having a difficult time holding onto his kernels when he finds them. Inevitably some other chicken will charge in and peck it out of his beak, or he will drop it right in front of himself and the other chickens will scramble for it. The rooster is the biggest one, so I don’t understand how he could be so incompetent at securing food. I keep on feeding them for quite a while to figure out the relationship between the rooster, and these other chickens. Out of twenty or so attempts, he only manages to eat one kernel for himself. Aha...he’s feeding the other chickens! Obvious now that I think about it. What genetic or social relationship to him they have, that I don’t know, but there is something going on that is very paternal. I never thought chickens had these types of relationships. As small domestic food animals, I don’t think much about a chicken’s social interactions or hierarchies. It’s a bit strange to observe them in action.

And so my day goes. More and more days have become like this, occupied by the fine focusing onto the specific actions of subjects around me. The enjoyment of sensuous experiences of touch, sight, sound, smell and taste. The attempt to understand the relationships between things, and the essence of acts or behaviours. Though the veil of mystery lies between me and all other subjects (a gulf of understanding) I feel a sense of connection through observation and an attention and openness to the minutia of experience.

I feel, not so much as less interested in people, but more like they've taken on a background note as my attention gets grabbed by the non-human. My initial focus on the Lao people and Lao culture has shifted in favour of the non-human subjects and sensory experiences. Things have distilled and I feel more inward and peaceful. I commune with the forces of the waterfall, the sunset, the starry sky, the winds, the insects and the birds. Time marches forward in a rhythmic spiral.

Two strong thoughts come into clarity today, almost like mantras:
1) I align myself to no tribe or nation, my allegiance is to this Earth.
2) Who am I? I am my body.