January 2010 I got a cortisol injection for my Ithiopathic Adhesive Encapsulitis, which finally fixed itself. There's nothing like not being able to lift or bend to highlight how fragile a body is, how easily an accident can alter one's lifestyle.
I spent a lot of time in Second Life, an on-line game where players create virtual versions of themselves, called avatars, and interact in a virtual world. A friend from high school, Amy Beltane, had introduced me to "UUtopia," a collection of virtual land parcels owned (well, actually, leased) by Unitarians on Second Life. At the time, Amy was attending seminary school, and her wife, Sharron, would meet in Second Life in their tricked-out treehouse. (This was before Skype was common.) When I first joined, UUtopia was bordered by Anarchists on one side, and Communists on the other.
I found Second Life interesting because players in it can design virtual objects; because I found the fuzzy boundary between the physical reality of people pushing buttons on a keyboard and the virtual reality of interacting with players' avatars fascinating on psychological, philosophical and theological levels; and because I could have interesting discussions with people. OK, it was really fun to make things, and before two weeks had gone out, I was scripting programs to build things.
Once I'd been introduced, the UUtopians were incredibly nice to me and let me build stuff on their land. I built Wiccan-flavored altars in Second Life that would chat the words of ritual in response or create a circle of blue flame in response to an accurately typed ritual phrase. I built candles that would echo the intents of the candle lighter when virtually touched. I made ritual labyrinths, glowing pentagrams, and hollow hills. Sometimes I would help out and make a foundation or dome or something.
Most of the other folks I met were not builders. They were programmers, grandmothers, students, poets, and many of them seemed to live on the east coast. I think the most interesting was the person who frequently wore a fox body -- so yes, I've had religious discussions with a fox. Occasionally, I would attend UU religious services in UUtopia (the UUtopians took leading services and giving sermons in turns); but since it was Mark's night out and I had to attend to The Child, this usually didn't work out. I did manage to present one night, and that was well received.
Sadly, Amy and Sharron got divorced. Which I leaned virtually. Expressing my condolences to both of them was one of those times where the virtual and the real seemed both extra virtual and extra real. Their parcel of land went up for sale.
Eventually, the UUtopians got tired of being collateral damage from the "Griefer War" going on between their neighbors. ("Griefing" in Second Life is when players do things like cause it to rain giant penises, or create objects that duplicate wildly and use up all the hosting server's resource with junk objects, or otherwise crash the party and behave obnoxiously.) They moved to a new island that was all UUtopia. The move -- with its discussion of rent and sub-letting -- made me uncomfortably aware of how I was playing in a sandbox that other people were paying for.
However, the UUtopians (for the most part) seemed pleased to have me tinkering around and building things for them. Probably the most involved build was a "bridge" (and café), which was like a museum of history display about the development of Neo-Paganism and its subsequent incorporation as a UU Sixth Source. At one end was a large world map, about ten feet across. I got some help and figured out a logarithmic scale so that fifty feet away from the map represented the year 2020, twenty-five feet away from the map represented the year zero CE, and fifteen feet away represented the compressed centuries of hominid development. Then I placed various markers (the death of Hypatia of Alexandrea) and objects (Stonehenge) along the time-line and lined up where they would be located on the map.
The objects had "hover text" over them labeling them. Some even would dispense virtual cards with museum text on them. What became evident to me was that there was a cluster of events around 1880 CE and 1980 CE, coinciding with the English mystery lodges in England (e.g. the Order of the Golden Dawn), and the introduction of Wicca and Goddess Worship in the United States. To be sure, there were markers for events before the Common Era, but there was also a gap after about 300 CE were events thinned out. But, to my mind at least, it showed how new Neo-Paganism (at least the Wicca-flavored part I'm most familiar with) is.
As 2010 progressed, and after the Bridge was more-or-less done, I spent less and less time in Second Life. The laptop I was using at the time was an older one, and I was at the trailing end of supported hardware for the game. I really wanted to design things in it, and I'd told myself the typical maker's lie that I could make a living selling Second Life merchandise; but the reality was that it was a hobby, not a job, and I felt like a mooch creating virtual stuff on other people's virtual land. Also, it was difficult not to spend less than an hour or two playing, and Second Life began to cut into my writing. And it was something that was difficult to share with the family.
Spring 2010 This was the year we had to get The Child into a school. We had some friends who were Montessori teachers who were encouraging us to enroll in their school (four blocks away!), but getting in depended on the openings at the school, which were assigned by lottery. The previous year, without the threat of enrollment hanging over our heads, Mark and I were able to look at the various schools calmly. We decided most of the 4J schools were fine, and that the temperament and qualities of the individual teachers would have a bigger impact than a particular school.
I was really glad we'd practiced getting into a school. The Eugene 4J school system has neighborhood schools, with the option for parents to move their kids to a non-neighborhood school if their kid gets a good number in the 4J lottery. It's supposed to be equitable and flexible, but it engenders a heightened sense of an educational scarcity and encourages a cult-like following in the school a family eventually chooses. I can't tell you how many frazzled parents I saw who were about to have a breakdown over the fear that they were somehow doing something wrong and about to mistakenly doom their child to a lifetime of consequences of Not Getting Into Yale.
The Child got good numbers, and we got into the Montessori system. Over the summer there had been a fire at the Montessori school, with the result that the kindergarten was no longer at the facility four blocks away. We wont discuss the Driving Habits of Other Parents (in SUVs).
I volunteered to help out with kindergarten P.E. Wow; the coach was a miracle worker, and I took several pages of notes from him.
September 2010: My story, "The View from the Top" got published on the Analog website: It was part of an experiment the Wordos did. We nailed down the main character, the setting, and the plot elements. Then everyone went out and wrote stories; the idea was to see if we could isolate parts of a story.
After we'd critiqued them, Jerry Oltion sent a packet of the stories to Stanley Schmidt, explaining what we'd done. Stanley chose Jerry's story for inclusion in the print version of the magazine, but was gracious enough to include the other stories he would have bought if he'd received them the standard way. Although it would have been nice to have the story printed, it was an honor and a thrill to be published electronically at Analog.
November 2010: I tried participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). That lasted about five days. Despite just writing and "daring to be bad," NaNoWriMo requires about two weeks of preparation before hand if anything is going to come out of it -- and I'd have to agree with the mother who recently wrote, "Whoever planned this thing wasn't a parent with familial expectations about Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas." One of these days I suppose I'll have NaNoWriMo in June/July.
December 2010: Was pretty much all about the lunar eclipse, which happened on the Winter Solstice. The holiday card was about the eclipse, I wrote haikus about the eclipse, and I concluded an early birthday celebration with a hike up the hill to see the eclipse.
When I think about 2010, I'd have to say that this was the year of virtual hopes and fears. So much of the focus was on the realm of ideas -- and what might or could happen.
Showing posts with label second life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label second life. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
Reading Fiction in Second Life
I read some flash fiction in Second Life today.
It was a little strange. On one hand, interacting with avatars is enough like interacting with people (or at least I'm used to it) that I don't notice that they're virtual people until I'm doing something like a performance.
In this case, the crowd didn't rustle, laugh, or say "ooh." Also, my point of view was above and a little behind my avatar's head, so I couldn't make eye-contact with people. And I had to watch an instant-message area for any feedback, like "We can't hear you." (No one typed this, so I can only assume my sound levels were OK.)
I haven't figured out quite yet how to hold a manuscript and change my avatar's focus. I'd wanted to use Mary Robinette Kowal's tip about assigning characters to specific spaces in a reading hall and looking at those spots depending on which character is speaking as an aid to presentation. As it was, my avatar mostly stood still with a glowing green sound icon over his head.
Today's reading was like recording live in a studio. Only with instant feedback (at the story's end) from a virtual audience. While I missed the synergy of a live group, having a layer of technology between myself and the audience allowed me to focus on the words more and not get so spazzed-out that I read words too quickly.
I think I'll do it again, and I think I'd want to figure out some way of adding more to the presentation so that it doesn't seem so wooden from my end.
It was a little strange. On one hand, interacting with avatars is enough like interacting with people (or at least I'm used to it) that I don't notice that they're virtual people until I'm doing something like a performance.
In this case, the crowd didn't rustle, laugh, or say "ooh." Also, my point of view was above and a little behind my avatar's head, so I couldn't make eye-contact with people. And I had to watch an instant-message area for any feedback, like "We can't hear you." (No one typed this, so I can only assume my sound levels were OK.)
I haven't figured out quite yet how to hold a manuscript and change my avatar's focus. I'd wanted to use Mary Robinette Kowal's tip about assigning characters to specific spaces in a reading hall and looking at those spots depending on which character is speaking as an aid to presentation. As it was, my avatar mostly stood still with a glowing green sound icon over his head.
Today's reading was like recording live in a studio. Only with instant feedback (at the story's end) from a virtual audience. While I missed the synergy of a live group, having a layer of technology between myself and the audience allowed me to focus on the words more and not get so spazzed-out that I read words too quickly.
I think I'll do it again, and I think I'd want to figure out some way of adding more to the presentation so that it doesn't seem so wooden from my end.
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
What Boundary Do You Invoke?
In late December, I created an art display in Second Life. Unless you have a way to connect to the internet, you could not have visited it -- and in the spirit of keeping my computer clutter down, I removed it shortly after New Year's. So I will describe it for you.
There is a virtual brick library building -- neo-Grecian style -- near an electronic shore. Near one side of the library, wind chimes hang in the eternal blossoms of a cherry tree. Pentatonic notes ring randomly over rendered stone benches. A short way away is a large, perfectly circular labyrinth marked upon the grassy slope above the shore. These things remain in place; what follows was the installation.
Floating waist-high in a circuit around the labyrinth's perimeter were ten words: "What boundary do you invoke with the words 'Merry Christmas'?" To enter the twisting geometric path one had to cross the whirling words' orbit.
The installation was not a critique of the Christmas holiday. Words delimit concepts -- even as they attempt to bridge them -- and the intent of the installation was to raise awareness of relationships during the Christmas season.
"Merry Christmas" is short for "I wish you a Merry Christmas," or "May God send you a Merry Christmas." Hidden in the December salutation (and valediction) are wishes, hopes and prayers for others.
The orbiting words were a reminder that we stand in a personal intersection of faith, circumstance, hopes and wishes -- and that two words, "Merry Christmas" are chock full of hidden assumptions about ourselves, others, and our relationship as wish- and prayer-makers to the world.
So, as Twelfth Night and the Feast of Epiphany approach, I ask again: "What boundary do you invoke with the words 'Merry Christmas'?"
There is a virtual brick library building -- neo-Grecian style -- near an electronic shore. Near one side of the library, wind chimes hang in the eternal blossoms of a cherry tree. Pentatonic notes ring randomly over rendered stone benches. A short way away is a large, perfectly circular labyrinth marked upon the grassy slope above the shore. These things remain in place; what follows was the installation.
Floating waist-high in a circuit around the labyrinth's perimeter were ten words: "What boundary do you invoke with the words 'Merry Christmas'?" To enter the twisting geometric path one had to cross the whirling words' orbit.
The installation was not a critique of the Christmas holiday. Words delimit concepts -- even as they attempt to bridge them -- and the intent of the installation was to raise awareness of relationships during the Christmas season.
"Merry Christmas" is short for "I wish you a Merry Christmas," or "May God send you a Merry Christmas." Hidden in the December salutation (and valediction) are wishes, hopes and prayers for others.
The orbiting words were a reminder that we stand in a personal intersection of faith, circumstance, hopes and wishes -- and that two words, "Merry Christmas" are chock full of hidden assumptions about ourselves, others, and our relationship as wish- and prayer-makers to the world.
So, as Twelfth Night and the Feast of Epiphany approach, I ask again: "What boundary do you invoke with the words 'Merry Christmas'?"
Friday, May 28, 2010
Update on Everything
Quick update.
I'm working on a short-story -- I was hoping to have a Wordos-ready draft ready by this evening, but family matters (of a fun kind) intervened. It's a humor piece (well, at least I think it's funny).
Tons of rain lately; I'm sure it's good for the snow pack, but our strawberries are mushy and white. On the plus side, in the last half month there have been no less than four huge, double-rainbows at sunset. And double-rainbows almost automatically equal smooching at our house.
With all the clouds and rain, I haven't seen much of the moon. I was hoping Thursday that I might see the moon right under one of the Monster Rainbows, but that didn't happen.
In other news, I'm reading way too many books at once -- books on the various branches of mysticism surrounding the Kabbalah, books on the history of writing and the development of homo sapiens art, and the history of science. It's times like these I wish I could read in my sleep. All this research is sort of for the history exhibit in Second Life... except that I've been so busy with Family Art Projects, short stories, and research that I haven't had much time to play in Second Life. It's crazy, but everything starts to point back to Gilgamesh, King Hammurabi, Ishtar, Lilitu, and Babylon. Oh, and medieval and Renaissance pastiches mistaken in the 1800 and 1900's for real live ancient things.
On the topic of religion... somehow, this week, I got into a discussion of rituals of passage with Dave Raines. I mentioned that over a decade ago, one of my old friends had used the metaphor "taken by the fairies" as part of a Neo-Pagan based ritual recognizing that her daughter's medical condition had irreversibly changed her personality. Dave wondered about a Christian-based ritual... and this is what popped out:
I'm reminded of the saying, "When one door closes, another opens." Here's one suggested ritual format (keeping in mind that although I was raised Episcopal, my spiritual practice is Neo-Paganism).
Ritual Welcoming the Changing One (a ritual marking the passing of the old self and the appearance of a new self, either through Alzheimer's, menopause, injury, or other personality changing conditions)
From within the sanctuary, The minister lights a colored candle (representing the Changing One's past life) from the altar candles and says, "From God's hands we come, and to God's hands we shall return." He takes the candle from the sanctuary to the vestibule at the back of the church, where the Changing One waits, possibly holding a photograph or small token representing their past.
A curtain is set up at the gate of the sanctuary rail. The Changing One's family and friends form a corridor leading to the curtain. The minister, representing the church, leads the Changing One (still holding their candle and token) through the corridor of community to the curtain at the sanctuary rail.
The congregation sings, "To every thing there is a season..."
The Changing One is assisted through the curtain, which closes after they enter the sanctuary. The minister helps the Changing One to place their candle and token on the altar, and to light a new white candle (representing their new self or new beginnings) from the old one.
Holding the new white candle, the Changing One reappears through the curtain at the sanctuary rail. The minister offers a benediction (I'm not sure if anointing with oil is appropriate [Dave says that within his practice, anointing at this time would be similar to a prayers for healing service]), and the Changing One and is welcomed by the corridor of community back to their seat. (Perhaps logistically, their candle could be clipped to their pew or placed on a low table in the aisle for the rest of the service.)
The service transitions into regular communion.
I'm working on a short-story -- I was hoping to have a Wordos-ready draft ready by this evening, but family matters (of a fun kind) intervened. It's a humor piece (well, at least I think it's funny).
Tons of rain lately; I'm sure it's good for the snow pack, but our strawberries are mushy and white. On the plus side, in the last half month there have been no less than four huge, double-rainbows at sunset. And double-rainbows almost automatically equal smooching at our house.
With all the clouds and rain, I haven't seen much of the moon. I was hoping Thursday that I might see the moon right under one of the Monster Rainbows, but that didn't happen.
In other news, I'm reading way too many books at once -- books on the various branches of mysticism surrounding the Kabbalah, books on the history of writing and the development of homo sapiens art, and the history of science. It's times like these I wish I could read in my sleep. All this research is sort of for the history exhibit in Second Life... except that I've been so busy with Family Art Projects, short stories, and research that I haven't had much time to play in Second Life. It's crazy, but everything starts to point back to Gilgamesh, King Hammurabi, Ishtar, Lilitu, and Babylon. Oh, and medieval and Renaissance pastiches mistaken in the 1800 and 1900's for real live ancient things.
On the topic of religion... somehow, this week, I got into a discussion of rituals of passage with Dave Raines. I mentioned that over a decade ago, one of my old friends had used the metaphor "taken by the fairies" as part of a Neo-Pagan based ritual recognizing that her daughter's medical condition had irreversibly changed her personality. Dave wondered about a Christian-based ritual... and this is what popped out:
I'm reminded of the saying, "When one door closes, another opens." Here's one suggested ritual format (keeping in mind that although I was raised Episcopal, my spiritual practice is Neo-Paganism).
Ritual Welcoming the Changing One (a ritual marking the passing of the old self and the appearance of a new self, either through Alzheimer's, menopause, injury, or other personality changing conditions)
From within the sanctuary, The minister lights a colored candle (representing the Changing One's past life) from the altar candles and says, "From God's hands we come, and to God's hands we shall return." He takes the candle from the sanctuary to the vestibule at the back of the church, where the Changing One waits, possibly holding a photograph or small token representing their past.
A curtain is set up at the gate of the sanctuary rail. The Changing One's family and friends form a corridor leading to the curtain. The minister, representing the church, leads the Changing One (still holding their candle and token) through the corridor of community to the curtain at the sanctuary rail.
The congregation sings, "To every thing there is a season..."
The Changing One is assisted through the curtain, which closes after they enter the sanctuary. The minister helps the Changing One to place their candle and token on the altar, and to light a new white candle (representing their new self or new beginnings) from the old one.
Holding the new white candle, the Changing One reappears through the curtain at the sanctuary rail. The minister offers a benediction (I'm not sure if anointing with oil is appropriate [Dave says that within his practice, anointing at this time would be similar to a prayers for healing service]), and the Changing One and is welcomed by the corridor of community back to their seat. (Perhaps logistically, their candle could be clipped to their pew or placed on a low table in the aisle for the rest of the service.)
The service transitions into regular communion.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Late April Musings
Ah spring. That time of year when I obsess on purchasing a water pump and setting up a fountain. Or wind chimes. The theory being that if I do I will sonically sequester the yard and it will become an oasis of serenity. With tea.
Despite the inevitability of much more rain, I have pulled the indoor/outdoor carpet and the two wooden chairs out of the garage and installed them at Cafe John. Cafe John needs something, though; either a screen or a string of party lights or a mediaeval or classical statue or something. Je ne sais quoi... but the BBQ grill, garden hose spool, and saw-horse workbench ain't it. I want to sit down with tea and scones and feel fantastic -- in the fantasy sense -- not like I'm in the garden section of a hardware store.
Oh! And in related news, Mark made home-made strawberry "Pop-Tarts" this weekend. They were a touch on the salty side, but very good.
It's official. Second Life is bad for my writing. I've been spending way too much time on it translating a kind of history of Neo-Paganism into a museum display and logyrithmic timeline of written texts and artefacts. It's sort of like doing reseach on the holodeck, which explains the appeal. What is iteresting to me how everything clumps together around 1900 CE, 350 CE, and 400 BCE, and how modern cultural values of identity, society, deity and nature are used to interpret ancient artifacts.
Perhaps I should be a museum curator in my next life.
Anyway, the challenge for me is to say, "I only have a 20 minute span of uninterrupted time, I should write (instead of hop onto Second Life).
Despite the inevitability of much more rain, I have pulled the indoor/outdoor carpet and the two wooden chairs out of the garage and installed them at Cafe John. Cafe John needs something, though; either a screen or a string of party lights or a mediaeval or classical statue or something. Je ne sais quoi... but the BBQ grill, garden hose spool, and saw-horse workbench ain't it. I want to sit down with tea and scones and feel fantastic -- in the fantasy sense -- not like I'm in the garden section of a hardware store.
Oh! And in related news, Mark made home-made strawberry "Pop-Tarts" this weekend. They were a touch on the salty side, but very good.
It's official. Second Life is bad for my writing. I've been spending way too much time on it translating a kind of history of Neo-Paganism into a museum display and logyrithmic timeline of written texts and artefacts. It's sort of like doing reseach on the holodeck, which explains the appeal. What is iteresting to me how everything clumps together around 1900 CE, 350 CE, and 400 BCE, and how modern cultural values of identity, society, deity and nature are used to interpret ancient artifacts.
Perhaps I should be a museum curator in my next life.
Anyway, the challenge for me is to say, "I only have a 20 minute span of uninterrupted time, I should write (instead of hop onto Second Life).
Monday, February 15, 2010
Writing and Updates
Mark had a good time skiing this weekend. I stayed home and wrote. I've been writing (which is good because for most of December and January I couldn't seem to get up enough oomph to do so). I'm usually a "seat-of-the-pants" writer. Outlines are frustrating to me -- so this time I'm trying an outline. It's mostly fun, although I often get a feel for my characters by sotp writing. What the outline is good for is showing me the weak parts in the story.
I also went back and took a look at some of my non-fiction. I think what I have is a manuscript on Neo-Pagan Theology that started out as a book and ended up as a pamphlet. Okay - it probably started out as self-therapy. It was written in a sustained moment of peke, and, unfortunately, the bitter humor is more bitter than humorous. There are some good bits in there, and I have to decide if what I want to say is worth the time to clean it up for a paper-publication, or if I should winnow out blog-sized excerpts and time-release it to the blog.
On other fronts...
Second Life ... is fun. I'm trying to limit my time there. Current project is scripting markers for Aubrey Holes -- my script has a bug, changing the value of llSleep is somehow changing how the script calculates a position. It's weird, even changing the sleep value from 10 to 10.0 seems to make a difference (so I'm suspecting some kind of floating point overflow error).
On the shoulder front: I can now shampoo my head with my left hand, which is an improvement. Still have to stretch all the time, though.
I also went back and took a look at some of my non-fiction. I think what I have is a manuscript on Neo-Pagan Theology that started out as a book and ended up as a pamphlet. Okay - it probably started out as self-therapy. It was written in a sustained moment of peke, and, unfortunately, the bitter humor is more bitter than humorous. There are some good bits in there, and I have to decide if what I want to say is worth the time to clean it up for a paper-publication, or if I should winnow out blog-sized excerpts and time-release it to the blog.
On other fronts...
Second Life ... is fun. I'm trying to limit my time there. Current project is scripting markers for Aubrey Holes -- my script has a bug, changing the value of llSleep is somehow changing how the script calculates a position. It's weird, even changing the sleep value from 10 to 10.0 seems to make a difference (so I'm suspecting some kind of floating point overflow error).
On the shoulder front: I can now shampoo my head with my left hand, which is an improvement. Still have to stretch all the time, though.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Ice or Steam ?
The other day I was working on virtual Neo-Pagan ritual altars in Second Life. I was scripting some call-and-responses and the next thing I knew, I had created a recursive "Blessed Be!" (the Neo-Pagan equivalent of "Amen!") One virtual altar would say "Blessed Be!" and another would hear it and repeat it. Since there were four altars at the time, my workspace was suddenly filled with an echoing chat-chorus of "Blessed Be!"The situation reminded me of what I used to think the Christian Heaven was like: filled with all the angels singing "Hallelujah" all the time. Except this was Second Life. With chatting Neo-Pagan altars. I went into the scripting area and halted the scripts one by one, silencing the echoing blessing. Sometimes I wonder how angels might be God's programs. Sometimes I wonder what William Blake would think of the process of silencing virtual altars.
☃Okay, true confession time -- It seemed like the last few stories, I'd been writing and re-writing the beginning in a futile attempt to drive to the plot, and I'd gotten kind of tired of the morass. I was thinking, "It's a possibility I'm not selling much because I shouldn't be writing speculative fiction," and once again I'd gotten worked up about Production Production Production and not about writing. In some ways doing something else for a while is not a bad thing. But I'm feeling like getting back to the word count. To get myself back into the swing of writing, I've been thinking about the cosmology of one of my settings, what I call the Quartet World.
Part of the cosmology for this fictional world is that the universe is currently in the third of three stages: steam, water, and ice. Humankind (and the other beings on this world) will return to a union with The Four aspects of Divinity during the second age of steam. Notice that I didn't say this was a Fall from Grace. And of course, having read too much Dion Fortune, my world has a magical system based upon the Tree of Ice, with a Fruit of Steam at the top. I'll have to figure out which culture has the saying, "We are all snowmen in a world of ice."
Probably not the Merfolk, who have a completely different, watery, world view.
☃I made the candle because I seem to be needing to light candles for people lately. And when I finished, I figured that my virtual candles would make nice gifts for people (especially my gracious hostess who lets me build on her virtual plot of land). Okay, and it's difficult keep real candles lit in our house. And I'm secretly pleased that turning forty-five has not dulled my autodidactism.
Which leads back to the question: what's the difference of lighting a beeswax candle for someone at a physical altar and using a graphical user interface to append a text file of prayers and wishes onto an executable program so that the program echos the text back with an accompanying light show? (Is a flame the tongue of Entropy singing Deity's song?)
The intent for the two candles is the same, (i.e. "I light this flame for X") and I suppose one could argue that the electricity used to run the server where the virtual candle resides counts as the energy of a real flame. And short of raising bees, collecting the wax, and casting the candle, in some ways I have a deeper relationship with my virtual candle -- defining its virtual dimensions and creating the programming to make it function -- than I would with a candle bought at a craft fair. And I could argue that typing out an intention as a way to initiate the virtual flames brings an amount of mindfulness, or at least lexical focus, that is similar to a prayer whispered over a new flame.
So for me, the physical convenience and safety of virtual candles in an electronic world are the biggest difference. After all, a spell or a prayer is a symbolic action taking in a ritual frame of mind. And I'm the sort of person who burns candles for people either because the person has asked for "good thoughts" or else there's nothing else I can do but light a candle.
☃
Yesterday morning, I composed a Haiku in the bathtub. I think that gets me some kind of writer points.
Candle without heat / my virtual beacon shines / Is this steam or ice ?
☃
I go back and forth on re-programming the candle so it will regularly repeat the intention it has been given. I imagine a virtual shrine filled with candles of all colors. Every so often, one of them chats, "For X, who has cancer; and for Y, who is helping them on their journey." Or "For the victims of the Haiti earthquake." Or "For Z, who plays with matches." But then I think, if the candle remembers its intent and I forget, what kind of virtual Demiurge might I be creating?
I think I'll stick with remembering intentions, prayers and wishes on my own.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Quck News
Shoulder Update: Today the PT had me on a bicycle for arms for a short period before manipulating my shoulder. It seemed to loosen things up quite a bit.
Writing Update: I guess I'm in a marketing mode. I've managed to keep stories in the mail. And I need to work on creating new stuff.
Second Life Update: I've created a build for Neo-Pagan ritual with call-and-responses. I suppose that I should offer some of them for sale, which seems a little weird because A) I would be essentially selling religious items and B) they're virtual religious items -- so I guess that counts as being payed for computer programming. Or, I could just give them away... and build other things for sale.
Writing Update: I guess I'm in a marketing mode. I've managed to keep stories in the mail. And I need to work on creating new stuff.
Second Life Update: I've created a build for Neo-Pagan ritual with call-and-responses. I suppose that I should offer some of them for sale, which seems a little weird because A) I would be essentially selling religious items and B) they're virtual religious items -- so I guess that counts as being payed for computer programming. Or, I could just give them away... and build other things for sale.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Bad signs from Second Life
General Notes:
Good for writing: If I ever actually hook up with one, I can attend a poetry reading without having to leave my house.
Bad for writing: Second Life sucks more time than housecleaning.
Good for writing: Just like building a story, building a virtual object is a lot easier with a little bit of forethought. So building is an alternate practice for planning things.
Bad for writing: Second Life's creation process is a heck of a lot faster (and more instantly gratifying) than getting published.
Good for writing: It's Research! (Yeah, that's the ticket.) I can probably write about addiction, good and bad on-line social interaction, and I have a better idea of the size of some of the NASA hardware after visiting the NASA SL site. (And I got a free virtual space suit!)
- When I photograph things, I'm now thinking, "that would make an interesting texture to apply to the outside of a virtual cube."
- When I look at an object -- say, a building -- I start to break it down into its simple geometric forms.
- Thoughts like, "I'll bet if I made a hollow cylinder and then cut it so that only twenty-five percent of the curve showed, it would look like the top of that building's façade."
- I dreamed the other day that when I touched things, XYZ arrows popped out of them to indicate how far I'd moved them.
Good for writing: If I ever actually hook up with one, I can attend a poetry reading without having to leave my house.
Bad for writing: Second Life sucks more time than housecleaning.
Good for writing: Just like building a story, building a virtual object is a lot easier with a little bit of forethought. So building is an alternate practice for planning things.
Bad for writing: Second Life's creation process is a heck of a lot faster (and more instantly gratifying) than getting published.
Good for writing: It's Research! (Yeah, that's the ticket.) I can probably write about addiction, good and bad on-line social interaction, and I have a better idea of the size of some of the NASA hardware after visiting the NASA SL site. (And I got a free virtual space suit!)
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Schrödinger's God Box
In the mid-90's, I used to bring a latex velociraptor puppet named Vaal to meetings, concerts and (to the dismay of my family) gatherings of relatives. I'd even have Vaal read tarot cards for people at parties. I was good enough at it that people would respond to Vaal as if he were the one giving the reading (and most people seemed satisfied with the fortunes they got).
Vaal certainly wasn't a "real" tarot reader in the sense that he wasn't a living being. So does that make him a virtual avatar? To get really existential, who was the author of the fortunes: the cards, me, or Vaal?
Which leads me to Second Life, the on-line game where people create virtual versions of themselves, or avatars, and explore an on-line world filled with virtual objects created by other players.
The latest conundrum is, of course, what are the spiritual and religious ramifications of building a virtual ritual space? If one of the strengths and virtues of Neo-Paganism is the use of imagination, does visiting someone else's virtually constructed ritual space take away from the visitor's imagination? I'd argue it doesn't erode religious imagination any more than visiting a real world church with a fairly set worship order of service.
The problems with a nature-based pantheistic religious event on Second Life are
But David pointed out that "virtual religion" is as old as Christian mass on radio shows. He has issues with the Sacrament of Communion being virtual -- in his view God can use the virtual realm to spread His message, but at this point in time virtual worlds cannot provide all the necessary ingredients -- the sound of bread ripping, the community of parishioners, the smell of the wine, a physical vehicle for the Holy Spirit -- for an efficacious Communion. Yet.
I can see David's point. But at the same time, I wonder -- his comments on radio masses got me thinking. We're used to listening to recordings and broadcasts of orchestral music. Hearing a concert changes my emotional and mental state; if the effects of hearing a piece of music live or recorded are similar enough, at what point does grace require physical reality, especially if outer physical symbols are merely pointers to an inward spiritual state?
For example, in Second Life, I created a magic circle -- a boundary of floating lights enclosing the sacred space of the ritual area. The magic circle in real life is an imaginary boundary, and visualizing it is a signal to Neo-Pagan participants that they are entering a ritual state of mind. A non-Neo-Pagan saw my avatar working on the space, and navigated her avatar closer -- but she stopped her avatar at the edge of the circle. So, an imaginary circle in a virtual world communicated its symbolic meaning to her and had an effect in the real world: she navigated her avatar to the circle's edge but no farther. In her mind, she was on the edge of something, something that looked like a sanctuary.
Which brings us to the locus of the self. Am I or Am I Not my avatar? Does my "self" stop at my skin? I'm legally responsible for my words, and my words can bring me legal tender -- which means in one sense my words are as real as my hands. So is an avatar me, a puppet, or simply "intellectual property"? Remember, puppets can give pretty good tarot readings. I conclude that the question is a bad one: I am my mind and my spirit and my body and my words and my avatar.
At this point, I think navigating an avatar through a set of virtual ceremonies qualifies as a prayer or meditation. What Diety or spirit does from that point on I'm unsure, and the whole thing feels like Schrödinger's Cat meets Deus Ex Machina -- if you don't look, nobody's dead. But of course I must look.
Ultimately, what would matter most is the feeback loop between one and one's religion. In my case, Neo-Paganism instructs me to participate and commune with the divine systems of choice, consequences and randomness entwined in the cosmos -- and as soon as soon as I'm done with this essay I should go for a walk in the woods, because Deity is the wind and virtual logos and flame and tree and leaves and ocean and flicking fishes and....
Vaal certainly wasn't a "real" tarot reader in the sense that he wasn't a living being. So does that make him a virtual avatar? To get really existential, who was the author of the fortunes: the cards, me, or Vaal?
Which leads me to Second Life, the on-line game where people create virtual versions of themselves, or avatars, and explore an on-line world filled with virtual objects created by other players.
The latest conundrum is, of course, what are the spiritual and religious ramifications of building a virtual ritual space? If one of the strengths and virtues of Neo-Paganism is the use of imagination, does visiting someone else's virtually constructed ritual space take away from the visitor's imagination? I'd argue it doesn't erode religious imagination any more than visiting a real world church with a fairly set worship order of service.
The problems with a nature-based pantheistic religious event on Second Life are
- the software that creates the world simplifies everything (so it can run on my computer) and being in second life is like being in a flat cartoon with no shadows, and, um;
- it's a virtual world with virtual avatars doing virtual things and the "participants" are really in front of keyboards typing commands.
But David pointed out that "virtual religion" is as old as Christian mass on radio shows. He has issues with the Sacrament of Communion being virtual -- in his view God can use the virtual realm to spread His message, but at this point in time virtual worlds cannot provide all the necessary ingredients -- the sound of bread ripping, the community of parishioners, the smell of the wine, a physical vehicle for the Holy Spirit -- for an efficacious Communion. Yet.
I can see David's point. But at the same time, I wonder -- his comments on radio masses got me thinking. We're used to listening to recordings and broadcasts of orchestral music. Hearing a concert changes my emotional and mental state; if the effects of hearing a piece of music live or recorded are similar enough, at what point does grace require physical reality, especially if outer physical symbols are merely pointers to an inward spiritual state?
For example, in Second Life, I created a magic circle -- a boundary of floating lights enclosing the sacred space of the ritual area. The magic circle in real life is an imaginary boundary, and visualizing it is a signal to Neo-Pagan participants that they are entering a ritual state of mind. A non-Neo-Pagan saw my avatar working on the space, and navigated her avatar closer -- but she stopped her avatar at the edge of the circle. So, an imaginary circle in a virtual world communicated its symbolic meaning to her and had an effect in the real world: she navigated her avatar to the circle's edge but no farther. In her mind, she was on the edge of something, something that looked like a sanctuary.
Which brings us to the locus of the self. Am I or Am I Not my avatar? Does my "self" stop at my skin? I'm legally responsible for my words, and my words can bring me legal tender -- which means in one sense my words are as real as my hands. So is an avatar me, a puppet, or simply "intellectual property"? Remember, puppets can give pretty good tarot readings. I conclude that the question is a bad one: I am my mind and my spirit and my body and my words and my avatar.
At this point, I think navigating an avatar through a set of virtual ceremonies qualifies as a prayer or meditation. What Diety or spirit does from that point on I'm unsure, and the whole thing feels like Schrödinger's Cat meets Deus Ex Machina -- if you don't look, nobody's dead. But of course I must look.
Ultimately, what would matter most is the feeback loop between one and one's religion. In my case, Neo-Paganism instructs me to participate and commune with the divine systems of choice, consequences and randomness entwined in the cosmos -- and as soon as soon as I'm done with this essay I should go for a walk in the woods, because Deity is the wind and virtual logos and flame and tree and leaves and ocean and flicking fishes and....
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Creepy Spiritual Valley
The oddest thing about Second Life is my reaction to avatars. I remember instant messaging with Amy and some friends. Amy's avatar is similar enough to what I remember Amy looking like and unconsiousely, I was splicing her real life image onto the screen where she was virtually standing. One of Amy's friends -- who during the course of our interactions morphed from a guy, to a box, a red dragon, a teddy bear, and back to a guy (and several costume changes) -- and I were chatting and I realized that I was building a mental picture of what he looked like based on his avatar. In other words, I expect that if we ever meet (we're living on different coasts), he'd look like his humanoid character (this is in spite of his non-human appearances).
In other words, I'm unconsciously reacting to humanoid avatars as if they were real, even though I know they're virtual. This must be the Second Life version of the self / body dichotomy. Only in this case I have subjective proof of the split. And it's just a little freaky.
In other words, I'm unconsciously reacting to humanoid avatars as if they were real, even though I know they're virtual. This must be the Second Life version of the self / body dichotomy. Only in this case I have subjective proof of the split. And it's just a little freaky.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
The Perils of Second Life
For the record, this is all Ray Vukcevich's fault: he invited the Wordos to a reading. Not just any reading, a reading in Second Life, a virtual reality "world" where people painstakingly create avatars so they can be 17 Again (so *that's* what Annie Lennox was singing about).
I've had a lot of really great help learning how not to smack my avatar into virtual walls from my high school friend, Amy Beltaine. I'm still learning how not to walk off the edge of ramps and cliffs. Probably the most (to me) amusing Second Life moment was trying to find a little Pre-Raphealite flame to wear over my head, and engulfing my avatar completely in roaring flames. Then walking around like it was completely normal to be perambulating over a cliff in the middle of a conflagration.
The reading? Oh, yes. I was there, but then family duty called me away, so I only caught a few opening remarks over one of Second Life's audio channels. By then I'd managed to have a little flame hanging over my head instead of being a walking Olympic Torch. I even managed to take a seat without walking into the Christmas tree in the reading room's corner. I'm excited by the prospect of a prose/poetry reading in Second Life because it can make an event something between a podcast and a radio show.
When I got back to Second Life, the reading was over. All that was left was someone's steam-powered duck. Amy was on, so I zoomed over to her house. I met some of her very nice friends, one of them who turned into a dragon. We chatted and they gave me lots of great advice (and objects) and we got to edit birdbath and water primitives (primitives -- or prims -- are the simple polygons the Second Life world is made up of). So I missed a reading, but I got to talk with a dragon (Debbie Mumford will be so jealous) and collaborate on (essentially) a sculpture.
More later...
I've had a lot of really great help learning how not to smack my avatar into virtual walls from my high school friend, Amy Beltaine. I'm still learning how not to walk off the edge of ramps and cliffs. Probably the most (to me) amusing Second Life moment was trying to find a little Pre-Raphealite flame to wear over my head, and engulfing my avatar completely in roaring flames. Then walking around like it was completely normal to be perambulating over a cliff in the middle of a conflagration.
The reading? Oh, yes. I was there, but then family duty called me away, so I only caught a few opening remarks over one of Second Life's audio channels. By then I'd managed to have a little flame hanging over my head instead of being a walking Olympic Torch. I even managed to take a seat without walking into the Christmas tree in the reading room's corner. I'm excited by the prospect of a prose/poetry reading in Second Life because it can make an event something between a podcast and a radio show.
When I got back to Second Life, the reading was over. All that was left was someone's steam-powered duck. Amy was on, so I zoomed over to her house. I met some of her very nice friends, one of them who turned into a dragon. We chatted and they gave me lots of great advice (and objects) and we got to edit birdbath and water primitives (primitives -- or prims -- are the simple polygons the Second Life world is made up of). So I missed a reading, but I got to talk with a dragon (Debbie Mumford will be so jealous) and collaborate on (essentially) a sculpture.
More later...
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