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Fundraising a success for the next book!

A big thank you to everyone who contributed to the Indiegogo campaign for my new book, If Only You Knew What Your Body Knows.  The campaign reached its target (hooray!) and I am planning to clear the decks in mid-July (right after The International Institute of Integral Human Sciences Conference in Montreal) and just start writing.  This is a dream come true for me, and I can’t wait to start putting it down on paper.  I’ll keep you posted on my progress.

1 thought on “Fundraising a success for the next book!”

  1. Richard & Kathleen Rose

    To Philip Shepherd—My friend George gave me the Sun article because he thought that you and I were thinking along the same lines. Here’s what I wrote him. Maybe some time we might link efforts. –Richard Rose rlrose45@hotmail.com

    July 3, 2013
    Dear George,
    Thanks for the article in The Sun. I had heard about the enteric plexus but did not know Philip Shepherd & have ordered his book. Most of my writing is about paying attention to signals from the worlds within and around us, whether they come from CO2 meters on Hawaii’s Mauna Loa or from a credit card bill. All such annunciations tell us that we are both human beings and human doings, that we do well to want what we have and to have no more than we can care for, and that to find what is just enough is the daily art we all can practice. Every day we have an appointment with what is but more often than not, as Shepherd eloquently says, we miss it by by not “listening to the world through the body.”
    Here’s a copy of the second volume of my book, Frameshifts (see http://www.frameshifts.com. ) of stories and poems. (If you ever want a copy of the first volume, please let me know.) The central character in the second volume is an apparently deranged biochemist named Avery Crawley who makes dire weather predictions and sets up a community called The Salvage to pay attention to what is (pp. 20-21 and 15-17). He does this because his research led to the discovery of a virus-like entity capable of amplifying the warning-signals of the living world (pp.213-218). He felt these signals not simply cerebrally but viscerally (“Here! In my chest.” p. 70).
    Many of our mythic stories, he says, were warnings about human stewardship ( p. 25 and pp.42-43) and he founds a professional community to re-think stewardship. One of them is the narrator, a college teacher named Hank Randall, introduced at the end of the first volume. As Shepherd notes, it is difficult to make the silence needed to attend to the messages from within and around us, but Hank finds silence after the death of his wife (77-79) and joins the community after listening to the explanations of Crawley (87-95) and others (113-117). Hank goes on to become a roving scholar for the community. He travels the country and periodically reports his findings (106-108). Meanwhile, internal divisions arise within the Salvage community. Crawley is interned and interrogated by his rivals, who want to use his viral transmitter for their own purposes (323-329). A new generation of leaders, however, sets a different course (208-209 and 365-376).
    Many seek a middle way to a more humane and sustainable society. People like James Hansen and Barry Commoner have used science. Bill McKibben uses social media. The Rob Hopkins’ Transition.com movement uses community work and permaculture. Fr. John Philip Newell’s Salve Terra uses his Anglican tradition and Stephen Dinan’s Shift Network and Darrin Drda’s Global Truths seem to use a new-age amalgam of psychology and spirituality.
    Some of course (like my character Jencks) are looking only to their own bottom line. (“There’s always profit in doom,” says the opportunist Jencks, ever ready to gain from others’ misfortunes. p.324).
    What I use is narrative—poems, music, and prose, as in the benefit performance of The Fisher of the James I’ve been doing around Richmond. Narrative can shift the frame of reference to the other and makes it possible for us to do the improbable: to change.
    Best wishes,
    Richard L. Rose
    Perhaps when, for a moment,
    we fully experienced the reality of a time transform
    different from our own—a personal disaster, an accident—
    a critical point was reached.
    A personal disaster always strikes
    at the center of a universe. . . (p.356)

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