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 Years, Bartholomäus 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?
