[TRANSMISSION FROM YEAR 2140 INCOMING](https://www.imaginalfutures.com/islands/transmissionfromyear2140incoming), Jason Hine: > The "there" you hope to arrive at, the destination you hope to get to, is alive and constantly changing. So make friends with this aliveness in everything. You will arrive as changeling children. You can only cross with with the more-than-human world. Only as communities and solidarity networks. Only with each other…. > > Many of us already had what we are searching for, we were born with this power, and yet somehow our bodies, emotions and concepts hadn't quite hit the ground, or become rooted in our community or become rooted in our bellies or feet. In a sense what we needed was not more striving, more personal or economic growth but a blessing or a welcoming. A welcoming by ancestors. Yes, you are seen. You are known…. > > Many of us came to understand that to succeed at a calling on earth it is necessary to make a sacrifice, to undertake a down-going or joyful dismemberment, to sacrifice the "self", to become something "other", something which communities, solidarity networks, bioregional intelligences and mythbeings can speak and act through…. > > Come across the river. Courageous acts will be needed. They have already happened. They are happening now. You are ready. You may not make it. Please act for future generations. We guarantee you nothing except your death. We remove your hopes and replace them with tender relationships. ___ [A Wilderness of Thought](https://orionmagazine.org/article/a-wilderness-of-thought/), 2013, via [[sympathizer]]: >This ability of children to easily enter into the life of something other than themselves… > >_The wind lives >in a secret garden >far away from me >It comes and I sleep >Sleep and the wind and I >drift to air._ > >it is the _play_ of our imagining that allows us to inhabit aspects of the world seemingly distant from ourselves… a wilderness of thought that encompasses a multitude of growing worlds, each connected and dependent on the other > >_The things in my stone want to speak. But they try by the way they build their things, the way they act, the way they react to each other, by their movement, by their joy._ > >How many times have I gone into classrooms that are equipped with the best and latest of technologies and quietly taken from my small wooden box a robin’s feather, a broken twig, a spiraled seashell, a leaf just fallen from a tree, and held each of them up, each a singular species of being, asking how might we feel if we were that twig, that leaf, that feather or shell? And how many times have I been showered with responses that are always urgent and playful, seeking to find the life of a seemingly inert object through the child’s own inward imagining? > >_My meadow is beautiful. >It has doves, >Morning Dew >And my laughter._ ___ [[Forgive your parents]]