This is a ritual of rhythm.

Use it to reset, to recalibrate your relationship to time. Time does not flow in a consistent, constant stream. It speeds and slackens. It follows our attention, our perception. This ritual is an anchor. For the length of its duration time’s flow will be fixed to the pattern of the ritual.

Before beginning the ritual proper you must be quiet and still. Take some time to sit with the ritual’s pulse before continuing. Draw all your attention towards the pulse. Let your internal rhythms fall in sync with it.

This ritual, once started, cannot be easily stopped or paused. It will run through to conclusion of its own accord. So don’t start until you are ready. Take your time.

To start the ritual you must choose 4 letters. These letters will determine the 4 words from which the ritual is constructed. How you choose those 4 letters should be determined by your intention for the ritual. You may spell out a 4 letter word that has meaning for you; you may close your eyes and select 4 letters at random; you may create a 4 letter acronym describing the focus of your attention; etc.

The ritual will begin once you have entered the fourth letter.

Download 111 bpm

Controls: letters to choose your words

The Rules:

• The file at this link will be deleted 1 month from now (06/07/19).

• All downloads are zipfiles containing a Windows executable.

• All source code and assets are included, licensed under the GPL (code) and CC-BYSA (assets).

• As long as you abide by those licenses, you can do whatever you want with the download.

Further Reading

The framing for this one was partly inspired by Avery Alder’s incredible Variations on your Body, a collection of 4 pervasive games built around ritual (pdf, hard copy). An excerpt:

“the feeling is getting clearer. You dream about flying either all of the time or never at all. You hate depending on your legs for movement. You don’t trust like you used to. You crave beauty like you’ll die without it. You’re ready to fly.

You’re a sparrow, brave and terrified.”

A wonderful audio piece by Hannah Nicklin about Lincolnshire, the environment, Brexit, and moving country.

Holly Herndon: Frontier (I want an interactive version of this, that I can play like an instrument)

Bomb Magazine has a fascinating article about José Maceda, a composer whose work I was (shamefully) completely unaware of. Ugnayan in particular is an incredible thing; every single radio station in Manila (37 in total) broadcasting a separate track from this one composition at the same time(!). And all with the backing of the Philippine dictator Ferdinand Marcos. I don’t really know how to unpack all of that.

I loved this piece by Emilie Reed on the ruderal; the way plants (culture, games) can spring up in inhospitable environments and gradually force open cracks, new spaces. Plus: it made me homesick for Glasgow (not hard to do at the moment, tbh).

Do Not Look Back, My Lion is a powerful, bitter rumination on relationships and parenting in a time of war.

I feel like I never hear people talking about Silver Mt Zion, but I’ve been listening to them again lately. The way they transitioned away from GY!BE’s doomed orchestral soundscapes into a kind of desperate, ragged choir is a thing to behold. This song has always had a powerful hold on me.

“Even when silvery fish after fish
comes back belly up, and the country plummets
into a crepitating crater of hatred, isn’t there still
something singing? The truth is: I don’t know.”

Ada Limón; The Leash

I’ve found myself singing more lately.

For the longest time I hated my voice, but lately, not so much. Maybe I had to grow into it. Maybe I just hadn’t found the right songs.

For me, singing is something visceral and fierce. You’re using your lungs/chest/throat/mouth/tongue/lips to expel air and shape it into sound. There’s no other instrument so tightly connected to your body. It’s why singing out loud has a physical effect on you, why it can leave you light-headed and buzzing.

But you have to sing loud. You have to commit. The magic doesn’t work if you don’t commit to it.

See you next month.