Like the last post, the title of this one came to me out of the blue. In a sense, I feel like I’m being reminded, not made aware of new information. Nonetheless, perhaps eventually, I’ll understand where this is all leading…
The Arc of the Peripherals (phrase originating from that which we see out of the corner of our eyes) is about bridges, bridging, being a bridge – a conduit from an external source to an internal source or a channel between the spiritual and the physical, from concept to concreteness. It’s about bridging the gap, filling in the blank, formation of the in-between, the finding of the connection between all things. Space, or more specifically the space between all things, has throughout history been considered vacant or devoid of any energetic life-force material, or, at the very least, dismissed as inconsequential. On one hand, I can understand this concept as we have the tendency to focus on what we deem as the solidity in single, separate objects with no connection but existing only in close proximity of space. On the other hand, I have always been able to see the space between and it is very much alive. Just a few nights ago, in fact, I was watching the interplay of what I call ‘light particles’ dance in this swirling mesh reminiscent of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. We see our physical reality as only real or connected if we can physically feel it as being solid. And, yet, interconnection, or validity of existence, is not dependent upon solidity.
As far back as the Ancient Greeks, scientists and philosophers have been trying to understand the space in-between, more specifically what they called “ether.” It wasn’t until the mid-1980’s that E.W. Silvertooth replicated, albeit with more modern and precise instruments, an 1887 experiment conducted by Albert Michelson and Edward Morley, that proved there was something to that space. [The Divine Matrix, Gregg Braden]
Essentially, it’s energy. More specifically, the crescendo of energy. In music, crescendo is a point in the piece that increases in either loudness or force. (As someone who played in the orchestra growing up, this was always the most exciting part.) We are the symposiarch’s (thank you, dictionary.com Word of the Day,) the conductors of the crescendo (and decrescendo) of the energy force in our life.
When it comes to bridges, a structural engineer (or bridge designer):
Basically, they research all materials, weights, and environmental structures or formations to ensure that all factors will flow with compatibility and ease. This starts with assessing the landscape, constructing a solid foundation, and creating a symposium of elements between all man-made, earth-based, and, even, spiritual components (or the space in-between.)
In music, the bridge is what the strings rest upon. This helps with the vibration or resonance of each note. In 1976, Floyd D. Rose invented the Floyd Rose Locking Tremolo. This device took the standard bridge to a whole new level in many ways but significantly more so with keeping the guitar in tune during higher pitch transitions [Floyd Rose, Wikipedia.]
If we can use this concept as applied to our own lives, can the space between be more relevant as well as more in tune with who we truly are? Knowing that each cell surrounding and within is inherent in the structure and foundation of our very lives can be a fairly powerful concept. By establishing a firm foundation of only things we love and that bring us joy can create a life structure worthy of lasting a lifetime. If we build on a shaky foundation surrounded by things we loathe or that do not represent the beauty that’s within us, that structure will only crumble repeatedly. The space between will be charged with negativity and will corrode to the point that our downfall is inevitable and a new model on, hopefully, a more solid foundation must be erected. When the bridge is well built and in resonance with all surrounding it, the vibration we emote will be a positive, firm note that can be felt by all who encounter us.
Is the space between holding firm with the structures you have created and the environment you have surrounded yourself with? Sometimes, it is the small-scale model that gives us the ideas of what can be. Start with the little things (like the bridge of a guitar), and when that’s solid, go big (as in the Golden Gate Bridge.)