where the writers are




By the clean, clear stroke of a blade,

a group of flowers in a bowl on a table in a room evokes a garden,

the whole of nature, the continuity of life —

— ¿more so than when growing wild in profusion?




Other cuttings:  

the splicing of 2 perhaps unrelated images in cinema (or tv) wherein a 3rd image appears in the mind of the viewer, and more vividly;

(a power with roots (as Jim Morrison points out) deriving in early forms of popular magic, the grimoire, the layout of tarot cards, etc);, and (as Eisenstein) points out,

the haiku, in which 2 images are joined together by a caesura, a silent beat ...

(inherent in how meaning is created in Eastasian language base in pictograms

(pictures of things, so how portray nonphysical reality, feelings, meaning, but through juxtaposition))



The cut as samurai sword stroke.  Or Manjushri's sword of nondual conscousness: the cut that makes whole 



The cut itself is invisible.  

The media must be transparent, we must forget about it, not even know it's there or else the glitch calls attention to itself (a wound).  It should be as easy as a hot knife through butter.  As they taught in film school, it takes 5 minutes to learn to make a good splice but it can take 5 years to learn to make a true cut. 


Is consciousness unbroken, or a series of a discontinuity?  (¿particles, or waves?).


Our life as a procession of cuttings, a montage of collages:


  • bodily impressions,
  • feelings,
  • objects of the senses
  • our environment
  • thoughts, etc.  


Our inner gardener cuts these flowers of a moment, makes of them bouquets and floral arrangements (ikebana), no two alike, yet the root always remains the same.



Propagation by cutttings :  the root is present everywhere