Shadow Tracing
By Kyle Holub
White Sands, NM
October 29, 2018
Trace shadow, Wait, Repeat.
Showing posts with label kyle holub. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kyle holub. Show all posts
November 30, 2018
November 21, 2018
Poem
Poem
By Kyle Holub
Gila Wilderness, NM
October 23, 2018
I am known to the Knowers
as one who hear the songs
of healing compassion.
One who listens but cannot sing them.
Not yet a Knower myself.
My intentions are good, but
not yet pure.
My words can help, but
not yet heal.
I have not yet come to know
the extent of suffering.
But one day, one life.
Maybe soon.
A sycamore branch points to
that which cannot be spoken,
a river flows into it,
a boulder falls on top of it,
because of it.
To interpret this quiet
is to die the most worthy of deaths.
To re-member the dismembered.
To become whole again.
I am human being wrong.
I am spirit being ignored.
Hush now, and listen being.
By Kyle Holub
Gila Wilderness, NM
October 23, 2018
I am known to the Knowers
as one who hear the songs
of healing compassion.
One who listens but cannot sing them.
Not yet a Knower myself.
My intentions are good, but
not yet pure.
My words can help, but
not yet heal.
I have not yet come to know
the extent of suffering.
But one day, one life.
Maybe soon.
A sycamore branch points to
that which cannot be spoken,
a river flows into it,
a boulder falls on top of it,
because of it.
To interpret this quiet
is to die the most worthy of deaths.
To re-member the dismembered.
To become whole again.
I am human being wrong.
I am spirit being ignored.
Hush now, and listen being.
November 15, 2018
Observations at the Border
Observations at the Border
By Kyle Holub
Nogales, AZ
October 16, 2018
A child’s shoe on this side.
An elementary school on that side, they have a tall fence.
A man drinking coffee. I wave because I’m 30ft away. There’s a fence between us.
A house on this side has razor wire on the top of its tall fence.
A border patrol truck at the top of the hill.
The locks have a flag motif and are made by American Lock.
The border faces outwards. The fence is meant to be more difficult to climb from that side. The border patrol truck faces that direction, the floodlights point that way.
One of the floodlight generators had a hatch that was unlocked.
Paco pointed out later that some of my actions at the border could have been interpreted as suspicious. I was rummaging through my backpack that I had leaned on the border fence. I knelt down to take pictures of ants crossing the border. I rolled a cigarette.
I hadn’t considered that anything I did would attract the attention of border patrol.
I knew that if I did arouse suspicions, I was a short conversation away from clearing up the situation. This is a position of privilege.
By Kyle Holub
Nogales, AZ
October 16, 2018
A child’s shoe on this side.
An elementary school on that side, they have a tall fence.
A man drinking coffee. I wave because I’m 30ft away. There’s a fence between us.
A house on this side has razor wire on the top of its tall fence.
A border patrol truck at the top of the hill.
The locks have a flag motif and are made by American Lock.
The border faces outwards. The fence is meant to be more difficult to climb from that side. The border patrol truck faces that direction, the floodlights point that way.
One of the floodlight generators had a hatch that was unlocked.
Paco pointed out later that some of my actions at the border could have been interpreted as suspicious. I was rummaging through my backpack that I had leaned on the border fence. I knelt down to take pictures of ants crossing the border. I rolled a cigarette.
I hadn’t considered that anything I did would attract the attention of border patrol.
I knew that if I did arouse suspicions, I was a short conversation away from clearing up the situation. This is a position of privilege.
October 27, 2018
Rope
Rope
By Kyle Holub
Muley Point
October 7, 2018
I spent a large part of my time at Muley Point making rope. I looked for dead yuccas and learned to select the leaves that would have the long, strong, yellow fibers that are good for rope.
There is a feeling, when making rope, that is difficult to transcribe. It has to be experienced. When twisting a strand, at a certain point, you can feel the rope forming itself. You can feel when it wants to become rope. It moves to its place behind the other strand, almost without effort.
The impracticality of this endeavour was never far from my mind during this process. Who needs a handmade rope anymore? The rope I made was not as strong as a store bought one. It certainly isn’t art as most would know it.
I think the value lies in the process. To gather leaves in a responsible way, to process them into long fibers with your hands, to wash and dry and twist these plants into a helpful object, is to open a channel of communication with a wild being. The rope is a connection to a plant and a plant is a connection to a place.
It is important to re-establish these connections. It is through the development of these types of connections that we can overcome divisions between self and other.
There is a feeling, when making rope, that is difficult to transcribe. It has to be experienced. When twisting a strand, at a certain point, you can feel the rope forming itself. You can feel when it wants to become rope. It moves to its place behind the other strand, almost without effort.
The impracticality of this endeavour was never far from my mind during this process. Who needs a handmade rope anymore? The rope I made was not as strong as a store bought one. It certainly isn’t art as most would know it.
I think the value lies in the process. To gather leaves in a responsible way, to process them into long fibers with your hands, to wash and dry and twist these plants into a helpful object, is to open a channel of communication with a wild being. The rope is a connection to a plant and a plant is a connection to a place.
It is important to re-establish these connections. It is through the development of these types of connections that we can overcome divisions between self and other.
October 25, 2018
Spider Naps
Spider Naps
By Kyle Holub
Four Corners
September 27, 2018
Blaise and I met this Desert Tarantula while reflecting on our time during the Fracking is Fracking Reality tour.
We followed it for a little while. It would nestle up to the bottoms of grasses and sage to get some shade,
and would take a little nap. After a minute or two, it would wake up and stretch its front 4 legs and continue
on its way. It repeated this cycle a number of times and seemed completely undisturbed by our presence.
It curled up in my shadow and fell asleep for a few minutes.
We followed it for a little while. It would nestle up to the bottoms of grasses and sage to get some shade,
and would take a little nap. After a minute or two, it would wake up and stretch its front 4 legs and continue
on its way. It repeated this cycle a number of times and seemed completely undisturbed by our presence.
It curled up in my shadow and fell asleep for a few minutes.
In strange contrast to the peaceful sleepy spider, another scene developed just down the hill from us.
A worker had come to service the gas well close to our campground.
He was checking gauges or something in a small shed and he left his door open to listen to the radio.
I could barely make out Rush Limbaugh’s voice. He was talking about Brett Kavanaugh.
In a similar spewing fashion, the worker walked over to a pipe, buried his face in his elbow,
and released some of its contents in a loud hiss that lasted a minute or so.
The spider didn’t seem to react.
A worker had come to service the gas well close to our campground.
He was checking gauges or something in a small shed and he left his door open to listen to the radio.
I could barely make out Rush Limbaugh’s voice. He was talking about Brett Kavanaugh.
In a similar spewing fashion, the worker walked over to a pipe, buried his face in his elbow,
and released some of its contents in a loud hiss that lasted a minute or so.
The spider didn’t seem to react.
October 7, 2018
Spruce and Aspen
Spruce and Aspen
By Kyle Holub
Headwaters
September 21, 2018
Spruce lies on the ground as seed
with Aspen root nearby.
They made an agreement
with all the forest beings and Time as witness.
“We will have a great race, to surface,
to altitude, to seed, to death.”
The race began as Aspen surfaced first.
It spread roots, and Fungus helped it along.
Spruce found a crevice that Rock provided
and Rock funneled water to its roots.
Years passed as Spruce and
Aspen grew together.
Conditions favored Aspen some years
and favored Spruce other years.
As the size of their bodies increased,
so did their proximity.
Their roots met first and intertwined.
They strengthened each other
and shared the resources they had been provided.
Their branches reached out to embrace
each other, and they valued the game they created.
It provided much entertainment to the forest beings.
They celebrated each other’s successes,
empathized in times of hardship.
They became symbiotic siblings of separate species.
They shared a similar view of the valley and
river below, quietly discussing the goings on
of their friends and relatives.
When Squirrel built her next in the higher
branches of Spruce, she would climb both Aspen
and Spruce to get to her home.
Their bond grew, and they would lean on each other
when wind was strong.
Spruce became diseased with beetles under its skin,
and tried to hide it from Aspen
to spare her the sadness, but Aspen knew.
because she felt it too.
Aspen gave resources and strength to Spruce
but Spruce grew weaker each year.
Spruce cried sap and felt pain,
and Aspen hugged him tighter.
Spruce died, and Time laughed
because the wonderful game had ended.
Aspen lost the game and her competitor.
He still stood next to her, and she would
still lean on him when wind was strong,
but no longer could they discuss the goings on.
Aspen still lives, but now Spruce has fallen.
She looks to the valley and river
and remembers the game they played.
She asks Time how long she will have
to live without her friend,
but Time was too busy and never answered.
By Kyle Holub
Headwaters
September 21, 2018
Spruce lies on the ground as seed
with Aspen root nearby.
They made an agreement
with all the forest beings and Time as witness.
“We will have a great race, to surface,
to altitude, to seed, to death.”
The race began as Aspen surfaced first.
It spread roots, and Fungus helped it along.
Spruce found a crevice that Rock provided
and Rock funneled water to its roots.
Years passed as Spruce and
Aspen grew together.
Conditions favored Aspen some years
and favored Spruce other years.
As the size of their bodies increased,
so did their proximity.
Their roots met first and intertwined.
They strengthened each other
and shared the resources they had been provided.
Their branches reached out to embrace
each other, and they valued the game they created.
It provided much entertainment to the forest beings.
They celebrated each other’s successes,
empathized in times of hardship.
They became symbiotic siblings of separate species.
They shared a similar view of the valley and
river below, quietly discussing the goings on
of their friends and relatives.
When Squirrel built her next in the higher
branches of Spruce, she would climb both Aspen
and Spruce to get to her home.
Their bond grew, and they would lean on each other
when wind was strong.
Spruce became diseased with beetles under its skin,
and tried to hide it from Aspen
to spare her the sadness, but Aspen knew.
because she felt it too.
Aspen gave resources and strength to Spruce
but Spruce grew weaker each year.
Spruce cried sap and felt pain,
and Aspen hugged him tighter.
Spruce died, and Time laughed
because the wonderful game had ended.
Aspen lost the game and her competitor.
He still stood next to her, and she would
still lean on him when wind was strong,
but no longer could they discuss the goings on.
Aspen still lives, but now Spruce has fallen.
She looks to the valley and river
and remembers the game they played.
She asks Time how long she will have
to live without her friend,
but Time was too busy and never answered.
October 5, 2018
At Wild Rivers
At Wild Rivers
By Kyle Holub
Wild Rivers
September 21, 2018
At Wild Rivers in Rio Grande del Norte National Monument, we were lucky enough to be invited to participate in NeoRio 2018: Roots ~ Raices.
Blaise taught me how to sew.
I met a ton of great people.
I ate some green chili that was really hot and I didn’t cry.
I saw 3 snakes in 1 day.
By Kyle Holub
Wild Rivers
September 21, 2018
At Wild Rivers in Rio Grande del Norte National Monument, we were lucky enough to be invited to participate in NeoRio 2018: Roots ~ Raices.
Blaise taught me how to sew.
I met a ton of great people.
I ate some green chili that was really hot and I didn’t cry.
I saw 3 snakes in 1 day.
September 28, 2018
(Rio) Grand Mother Cloud
(Rio) Grand Mother Cloud
By Kyle Holub
Headwaters
September 21, 2018
You can surely see us
from high above these mountain peaks.
We watched you for some time.
I saw you building, summoning, grouping
Water into your body,
Watched you swell, your edges engulfing
and shrinking the spaces of blue.
How can you be so big and so weightless?
We watched you reach
higher, further, gathering, gripping, gaining
until you gave birth some miles away.
Gave birth to the networks of
living waterways in these mountains.
Thank you, Grand Mother Cloud
for giving us life
for giving us the Rio Grande
for forgiving us our ignorance
for forgiving us our arrogance.
The Rio Grande and all the somebodies
dependent on her for life
give thanks to you by being.
Thank you, Grand Mother Cloud!
By Kyle Holub
Headwaters
September 21, 2018
You can surely see us
from high above these mountain peaks.
We watched you for some time.
I saw you building, summoning, grouping
Water into your body,
Watched you swell, your edges engulfing
and shrinking the spaces of blue.
How can you be so big and so weightless?
We watched you reach
higher, further, gathering, gripping, gaining
until you gave birth some miles away.
Gave birth to the networks of
living waterways in these mountains.
Thank you, Grand Mother Cloud
for giving us life
for giving us the Rio Grande
for forgiving us our ignorance
for forgiving us our arrogance.
The Rio Grande and all the somebodies
dependent on her for life
give thanks to you by being.
Thank you, Grand Mother Cloud!
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