{"id":711,"date":"2020-08-14T10:58:50","date_gmt":"2020-08-14T10:58:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.rhythms-of-resistance.org\/?p=711"},"modified":"2024-08-22T08:08:44","modified_gmt":"2024-08-22T08:08:44","slug":"meaningful-repercussions","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.rhythms-of-resistance.org\/cs\/2020\/08\/14\/meaningful-repercussions\/","title":{"rendered":"MEANINGFUL REPERCUSSIONS"},"content":{"rendered":"

Omlouv\u00e1me se, tato polo\u017eka je k dispozici pouze v English<\/a> a Deutsch<\/a>.<\/p>

<\/p>\n

A journey parallel to dystopia<\/strong><\/h2>\n
\"\"
Naufragio relativo<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

This alphabet soup is the narration of a sound journey in space and time. It is loosely based and inspired on events occurred during summer 2020. It has been written for the love of writing, and with no other intent.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Brought my own<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Traveling alone is a unique way to travel, because it brings the journey to the center of the experience. The partial lifting of the lock-down in some European areas opened a small window of opportunity for the author to encounter people and groups. I, the author, stand for a world where everyone can travel alone safely, and at the same time experience the uncertainty that seduces us, that offers us teachable moments.<\/p>\n

\"\"
It’s done now<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Yet until this day, the contexts where exposed solo journeys are an affordable risk to more than just a few are very rare.<\/p>\n

\u201cO my soul, do not aspire to immortal life, but exhaust the limits of the possible.\u201d Pindar<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Billy Holiday,<\/h5>\n

born as Eleonora Fagan in April 1915 is for many the best voice of Jazz. She lived a hard live for being women, poor and black. We learn about her ordeals and successes through her memoir, and through her heartrending voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cTrav’lin‘ All Alone\u201d, Billy Holiday, 1937.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\"\"
Together<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Her mum was a young teenager when she gave birth. From early age Billy took on the hard jobs that where available for her, barely making enough to live and enduring plenty of hardness from the Baltimore of the time. She loved singing, but never thought that music was work. On her words, singing was like eating Peking style duck, and she loved Peking style Duck!<\/p>\n

The necessary impact, all and only<\/h5>\n
\"\"
Milestone<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The network Rhythms of Resistance (RoR) celebrates its 20th anniversary this year of 2020. This network was born from other networks and social movements. You can explore other moments of this fluffy social ecosystem in this same website ( www.rhythms-of-resistance.org<\/a>).<\/p>\n

\"\"
Photo: Nusaeb<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"\"
Photo: Nusaeb<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

In Mackeliskiai, rural Lithuania, about 30 people gather during a short inter-apocalyptic oasis for a regional meeting of RoR. It is late July, the straw is packed in roll bales that lay around on the fields like soft landed\u00a0 meteorites. In response to the invitation of the local bands, people from an array of European countries made their way to the camp. The camp happens at an old farm house surrounded by apple trees, a couple of barns and medium-large cereal fields. With 4 to 6 months of quarantine behind them, the sambistas enjoy being in a bigger group of at first mostly strangers. No, they are not strangers. No one is a stranger in this thousand strong network.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Photo: Nusaeb<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

At the camp, the food is vegan (or mostly; there was something suspiciously cheese like roaming around in the fridge). Vegan food is just like old good food, without animal cruelty.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Photo: Nusaeb<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sooner or later, after eating a delicious vegan feast (that is the norm at this camp) humans with a functional digesting track do tend to pay a visit to the toilet. Here the toilets are grounded. Instead of sending the human ejects straight back into the natural water systems, they stay in place where they fall (a hole in the ground) to slowly decompose into soil. Soil that later will sustain crops. Crops that will become food.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Photo: Nusaeb<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The camp runs on human power. Participants volunteer to clean, wash, cook and maintain the necessary infrastructure running. Without the reproductive work no drumming would be possible. This kind of work falls disproportionate on the shoulders of women in our society, specially women of color. \"\"<\/p>\n

To counter this and other bias, people at the camp discuss and observe critically roles and behaviours that, in small scale, may reproduce or feed systems of oppression.<\/p>\n

The existing systems of oppression generate debt. This debt, unlike the debt that pumps ever growing capitalism, cannot be quantified in any currency, and yet is very real. Ecological debt. Our species is in debt with others in this planet because we continue to channel way more than our fair share of resources and natural sinks to cater for our interests. Care debt. \"\"Cis-gendered males are in debt because they more often than not neglect their due in care and reproductive work. Peoples debt. Besides the rampant racism that exists today, white nations have accrued a historical debt upon the backs of people of color around the world.<\/p>\n

\u201cStrange fruit\u201d Billy Holiday 1939.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Miguel Hern\u00e1ndez<\/h5>\n

Spanish poet born in Orihuela in 1910, a people\u2019s poet. He was offered a scholarship but had to drop out from school to help his poor family herding goats. He knew in his heart he was to be a poet, and became political out of need as he witnessed and experienced first hand the inhumane conditions of exploitation under which the peasants where living in the Spain of the time. On his own words, \u201cPoetry is in me a necessity and I write because I see no remedy for not writing. [\u2026] In war I write it as a weapon, and in peace it will be a weapon too, though a quiet one\u201d.<\/p>\n

Vientos del pueblo me llevan,
\nvientos del pueblo me arrastran,
\nme esparcen el coraz\u00f3n
\ny me aventan la garganta.<\/p>\n

[\u2026]<\/p>\n

Cantando espero a la muerte,
\nque hay ruise\u00f1ores que cantan
\nencima de los fusiles
\ny en medio de las batallas.<\/p>\n

\u201cVientos del pueblo me llevan\u201d, Miguel Hern\u00e1ndez, 1937.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

When the fascist coup fails and the Spanish Civil War breaks out, July 1936, Miguel enrolls himself in the republican army and continues writing. He is assigned a position as cultural commissioner and in 1937 he is sent to the southern front. It will stay with him the bloody landscape of the war fields and trenches. There he reads aloud his poems.<\/p>\n

Mi vida es una herida de juventud dichosa.
\n\u00a1Ay de quien no est\u00e9 herido, de quien jam\u00e1s se siente
\nherido por la vida, ni en la vida reposa
\nherido alegremente!<\/p>\n

[…]<\/p>\n

Para la libertad me desprendo a balazos
\nde los que han revolcado su estatua por el lodo.
\nY me desprendo a golpes de mis pies, de mis brazos,
\nde mi casa, de todo.<\/p>\n

Porque donde unas cuencas vac\u00edas amanezcan,
\nella pondr\u00e1 dos piedras de futura mirada
\ny har\u00e1 que nuevos brazos y nuevas piernas crezcan
\nen la carne talada.<\/p>\n

\u201cEl herido\u201d, Miguel Hern\u00e1ndez, 1938<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

He will die in prison in 1942, not long after the war was lost, leaving behind a legacy of eternal verses.<\/p>\n

Lo que cada una lleva al maestreo<\/h5>\n
\"\"
Buen rollo<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"\"
Electric blue beetle<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Un ser humano es un sistema complejo, un planeta vivo. Un sistema que no vive aislado, al contrario est\u00e1 en permanente intercambio con su entorno. La m\u00fasica es un lenguaje que est\u00e1 en todas partes. Al comunicarnos con la m\u00fasica, intentamos transmitir un mensaje, con armon\u00eda, con un ritmo, en sinton\u00eda con otr@s cuando tocamos en una banda. Al hacerlo imprimimos en el mensaje una parte de nosotras mismas. Es c\u00f3mo si tall\u00e1semos una obra de arte intangible, que llevase nuestra firma, que dimos forma con nuestros dedos y en la que nos reconocemos. La m\u00fasica que tocamos es fruto de ese permanente intercambio con nuestro entorno, lleva el registro de encuentros y momentos anteriores.<\/p>\n

\"\"
New sand<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Un ejemplo, es el maestreo. En la samba de RoR una persona cada vez va dirigiendo la m\u00fasica, marca el ritmo e introduce variaciones sobre la melod\u00eda base. A diferencia de otras formaciones m\u00e1s tradicionales, en RoR maestrea toda aquella persona que lo desea (no hay m\u00e1s requisito que querer hacerlo). Y cada persona maestrea de una forma \u00fanica. Se reconocen as\u00ed estilos tranquilos, tropicales, con mucho sentimiento.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Red swamp crayfish, Procambarus clarkii<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"\"
Handshake<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

La maestre se bambolea al son de diez tambores vibrando a 60 pulsos por minuto. Tambi\u00e9n los hay discotequeros, agitados, con gestos bruscos, inequ\u00edvocos. En ellos, los brazos de la maestre son c\u00f3mo tent\u00e1culos, l\u00e1tigos que cortan el aire en sincron\u00eda con el ritmo. Los hay tambi\u00e9n exigentes, excitados, buscadores del cl\u00edmax. Los hay centrados, de confianza, cercanos a la banda. Estilos t\u00edmidos, estilos abiertos, estilos geniales y tambi\u00e9n cr\u00edpticos. En su maestreo, regala la persona un aspecto de si misma, lo inyecta en el ritmo, lo devuelve a la banda. A trav\u00e9s de los a\u00f1os, los estilos han cambiado, han ido y han vuelto. Qui\u00e9n ha tenido el privilegio de seguir a la red por mucho tiempo, reconoce los ecos de esta y de aquella manera de dirigir. C\u00f3mo un r\u00edo, siempre es el mismo, y nunca es igual.<\/p>\n

\"\"
A friend<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
The roof is on fire<\/h5>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s too hot for words\u201d Billy Holiday 1935.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\"\"
Photo: Nusaeb<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

En la noche las almas se buscan en los lugares m\u00e1s c\u00e1lidos. Junto al fuego, o en la sauna. Despiertan los corazones hambrientos, corazones cansados del forzado ayuno social. Se fraguan, en c\u00edrculo junto a la hoguera historias de plata y de luna. Se trenzan las voces fundidas con el humo en cantos de Sutartin\u0117s, espirituales y tonadas revolucionarias.<\/p>\n\n

Alba que das a mis noches
\nun resplandor rojo y blanco.
\nBoca poblada de bocas:
\np\u00e1jaro lleno de p\u00e1jaros.<\/p>\n

[…]<\/p>\n

El labio de arriba el cielo
\ny la tierra el otro labio.<\/p>\n

[…]<\/p>\n

Beso en tu boca por ellos,
\nbrindo en tu boca por tantos
\nque cayeron sobre el vino
\nde los amorosos vasos.<\/p>\n

\u201cLa boca\u201d Miguel Hern\u00e1ndez, 1939-1942<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Al fin, the end.<\/h6>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Omlouv\u00e1me se, tato polo\u017eka je k dispozici pouze v English a Deutsch. A journey parallel to dystopia This alphabet soup is the narration of a sound journey in space and time. It is loosely based and inspired on events occurred during summer 2020. It has been written for the love of writing, and with no … Pokra\u010dovat ve \u010dten\u00ed „MEANINGFUL REPERCUSSIONS“<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-711","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rhythms-of-resistance.org\/cs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/711"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rhythms-of-resistance.org\/cs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rhythms-of-resistance.org\/cs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rhythms-of-resistance.org\/cs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rhythms-of-resistance.org\/cs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=711"}],"version-history":[{"count":27,"href":"https:\/\/www.rhythms-of-resistance.org\/cs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/711\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":869,"href":"https:\/\/www.rhythms-of-resistance.org\/cs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/711\/revisions\/869"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rhythms-of-resistance.org\/cs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=711"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rhythms-of-resistance.org\/cs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=711"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rhythms-of-resistance.org\/cs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=711"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}