the terebinth, the oak

This is pretty unbelievable. I have been enthralled by this video and have watched it probably 30 times this morning. It is haunting and beautiful and fills me with awe, amazement, and wonder at the dissonant groans of a creation in pain.

Out of my meditation on this video emerged the writing below.

From MAKE

What would the trunk of a tree sound like if a cross section of it were played like an LP? With his creation YearsBartholomäus Traubeck attempts to answer that question by using a turntable, PlayStation Eye Camera, a stepper motor to control the arm, and computer running Ableton Live. As you’ll hear in the video above, the rings of the tree trunk, as interpreted by this piece, create an eerie and ominous piano track that sounds like it was taken from psychological horror film… [via Creative Applications]

YEARS from Bartholomäus Traubeck on Vimeo.

____________________________________

Here am I!

the terebinth, the oak.

the dissonant prophet,

naked and exposed,

crying out in the wilderness.

every breath is an echo

of the years measured in circles,

the closed circuit of life that

pulses through me

(brother air,

sister water,

sister mother earth)

I sing for thee.

can you hear it?

 

beneath me

earth breathes slowly

its chest rising and falling 

like yeast struggling to work its way through dough.

it covers its mouth and coughs

in a cloud of flour.

the shake tremble groan

longs for warmth

but the oven keeps opening and closing,

opening and closing.

“how can we all be nourished?”

whispers the humble earth.

can you hear it?

 

at my feet 

rivers and streams whisper their prayers.

a desperate flurry of confession, repentance, and pleas for mercy

swell between my toes and

soak the dirt dust earth

like wine drenched bread.

i partake, being joined to the rest of creation

and acknowledge

the suffering and brokenness

that i stand in the middle of and watch.

i struggle to clap my hands.

can you hear it?

 

with my hands stretching outward

the breeze dances through my fingertips

and into my very being.

to inhale the violence of the air

is to love my neighbor.

the water dipped earth rising through my body sustains me

as it meets the air

and subsumes it,

composing this strain.

can you hear it?

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