We are trying to encourage a more triangular approach to comprehension. We form our pyramids not solely that others might enjoy our pleasing shape, but that we can further expand our particular triangularities and integrate this newly three-sided perspective into our meditations on form.
Our pyramids wedge white knives into ivy-covered hillsides. Our pyramids march in formation and collapse face-first into a concrete tomb. Our pyramids map the ground that we lie upon; our mass expands and contracts upon the grass. We slide across floors of dirt and stone in a state that suggests both approach and retreat. We are an army that never attacks, that continually adjusts formation. Armies that never attack spend most of their free time rearranging themselves in preparation for battle, to appear trim in grim conformation. Presenting themselves to the podium, how are we different in our repeated attempts to present ourselves to the world via tha garden’s shady light? It is colder in there, in the garden’s valley, than it is in our meeting place between the concrete pylons where we stretch our limbs in preparation for stillness.
We are a state of potential energy that crumbles without exploding. My days are slow, dictated by the pyramid into strange breaks of activity and inactivity. Without being talked about, the formation of pyramids nearly every day has assumed the function of work/. Church/ temple. A struggle to kneel and remain kneeling.
How many times during the day do we kneel intentionally, purposefully, without subjecting ourselves to anything greater than the ground itself? Our pyramid genuflection are acts of self-subjection. A willingness to submit to a thing that is greater than ourselves without being as “great” as god.