texture of arcs
our attunement is the bridge… and what I have planned for 2024
I’ve been nudged by the word arch-texture, louder and louder over the past months, and now textures of arcs are everywhere, prominently weaving themselves into the fabric of my seeing as we cross over into this new year—a year I sense with clarity is for building new foundations from new ways of architecture.
Curve. Support. Span.
Arched entrance for passage.
Archaic past passed into now.
Arcus of eyes. Arcus as archery. Pull, point, cast the bow.
Bow in praise, arches of feet upon Arctic shore.
Look up to Arktos, the great bear, to Arktouros, our North Star.
Take out the vowels and auric is arc—
arch back—open the fields of your heart.
Archangels. Matriarch. Joan of Arc.
Mathematically, an arc is determined by its angle measured in slices of minutes/seconds (’/”).
An angle always begins at a point.
A single point:
Tip of finger.
Leaf of an oak.
Butterfly tongue.
Glance across a room.
That feeling in the pit of your stomach.
A bell chimes.
Turn the page.
Some say arc is theory and arch is solid physical matter.
That was then. This is now. It’s all matter.
The more we can see of the matter in our lives, the single points of small—
moment
object
feeling
wish
memory
stretch
breath,
the more space we open for the arcs to do what they do.
The arcs know what to do—
span an opening,
create passage,
invite new ways of texture (tect-teks)
for us to weave, fabricate, build
what we choose to create now,
for all of us,
human and more-than-human—
no gates on the arches,
no forms too solid to get through,
no passageway that needs a key.
We don’t build the bridge.
The blueprint is in our cells.
Our attunement is the bridge.
Where we place our attention, the frequency of how we tend and attend
this is what releases arc upon arc of bridging, of passage.
The arcs are here—
imaginal and ready.
Ready for us to attune to each single point of matter in our (extra)ordinary lives:
Sip of water. Child tries to tie a shoelace. Rice in boiling pot. Rattle of train tracks. Memory of then. Geese in a triangle through a cloud. A squirrel’s tail. A friend’s hug. One breath, all the way in, all the way out.
Mathematically, an arc is determined by its angle.
An angle always begins at a point.
A single point.
The arcs know what to do—
span an opening, create passage, invite new ways of texture.
We don’t build the bridge. The blueprint is in our cells.
Our attunement is the bridge.
@noticingmatters (on Instagram)
@noticingmatters (on Instagram)
Into 2024…
I can see clearly how the little bits of this-and-that, fragments that I’ve sensed and studied and glimpsed over the past few years, pieces that have felt slippery, ephemeral, or suspended in longing—they are here in front of me, gathered together, accessible as one visible-touchable-scupltable whole.
Precession. Toroidal. Be the effect. Facial network. We are moss. Water is sky. Be reverence. Go into the breaking. Feelings are material. It’s simpler than we think. Tell it small. You are child. We are the chants. Always already now.
All of it is here.
The timing of this is not an accident. We have what we need to build what is needed.
If you’ve been reading Noticing Matters for the past year or longer, you’ve likely witnessed my shifting, my stretch into claiming what I see and finding ways to say it. To share in ways that might be heard, to say something that matters.
This year brings a turn. I feel it as deepened, interconnected roots. I see it as commitment, responsibility, community.
Previously I’ve shared words and ideas and let them land in whatever ways they landed. Sometimes I heard from people about how a passage or glimpse or shift of frame impacted them. Sometimes people asked for an open conversation about collaborative work linked with an idea. But mostly, the arcs from what I share through my writing have been unseen to me.
I continue to trust in precession and the magical expanse of all that’s unseen. I trust in ideas as alive and words as alive and readers as beings who resonate with whatever is most alive to them. I trust in readers. I trust in you. I have always written, and will continue to write, as honestly and clearly as I can, knowing that all I can do is essay—to try.
In 2024, I will continue to show up to try my best. And… I will deepen my practice of responsibility for what I share. This year I am committed to building community and communal practice around how we create with the new architectures available to us.
If you’re interested in what is to come this year, here’s what I can see so far:
Dedicated attention to the potential of small stories. Opportunities for anyone to engage in ways to find-see-attune-listen-describe-share about the single points (of practice, memory, object, feeling, wish, moment) in their everyday lives. I am currently building the foundations for what I will call the small story project. I will be sharing its beginnings with my weekly paid subscriber group next week. I plan to have ways for anyone with interest to become involved beginning in February.
Online community practice sessions. I will be opening space for us to gather via zoom to practice specific ways to access the potential of small stories as I develop a framework that feels spacious and helpful across contexts. This will likely begin within the weekly subscriber group and grow out from there. I want to facilitate deeper connection with all readers of Noticing Matters so we feel more like a community than a newsletter list.
Continued monthly (and weekly) essays, this year with more attention to cohesion and interconnection of the layers, building in the direction of what we need (and are learning to practice) as/for the collective.
as delight, Melissa
Connect with me and our Noticing Matters community on Substack:
melissaabutler.substack.com
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