Tuesday, November 06, 2018

Thinking about variation (1)

According to the latest neuroscience, every neuromuscular act utilizes a unique set of neural connections. I wanted to explore this idea in more depth, particularly in the context of my current reading of James Gleick's  "Chaos", and the notions of deep patterns to be found amidst the noise of everyday experience. Unfortunately, I don't own any astronomical or biological instruments. One kind of neuromuscular laboratory is "at hand" however--my own writing-- and a few digital tools that allow me to examine it at varying scales. 

This is a figure 8 on its side, or "infinity", which I attempted to render repeatedly with pencil on paper. As you can see, I had great difficulty performing even this well-practiced gesture exactly the same way over a dozen or so overlapping tries.

A Lesson in Metaphor

Proverbs: (some
fruitless activity) is BEATING A DEAD HORSE,

Deeply embedded in daily use, nearly forgotten (but not "dead")
She felt warmly towards him....
We've cooled on that idea over time...
This was the hard part....

Poems (unique and artistic)

Unconscious and nearly unconscious:

Schema derived from our earliest physical experiences:
standing (falling)
eating (voiding, evacuating)
waking, rising
gathering (foraging)
losing (gaining)

Paraphier, peraphrand
Source, Object

Not just a trick of language, but our core conceptual mechanism. 

Number & Math

Science and invention:
Cancer is an infection of the blood.....became "white blood"...or leukemia, which led to a cell-based, then a genetic understanding of cancer.

Earth as the center of the universe...became...sun is the center... became a universe expanding in all directions.

Humours (hydraulic model) replaced by the "germ" based notion of disease, a more functional and specific (machine) model,

Law and Government


‘The difficulty lies, not in the new ideas, but escaping the old ones, which ramify, for those brought up as most of us have been, into every corner of our minds.’ -John Maynard Keynes

Wednesday, May 04, 2016

Notes on Phenomenological Description (PD)

How can I pull together what I sense are certain related ideas and enthusiasms: philosophical phenomenology, embodied cognition (and metaphor), urban design, facilitation and just...making stuff?

Start here:

Basically, phenomenology studies the structure of various types of experience ranging from perception, thought, memory, imagination, emotion, desire, and volition to bodily awareness, embodied action, and social activity, including linguistic activity. The structure of these forms of experience typically involves what Husserl called “intentionality”, that is, the directedness of experience toward things in the world, the property of consciousness that it is a consciousness of or about something. According to classical Husserlian phenomenology, our experience is directed toward — represents or “intends” — things only through particular concepts, thoughts, ideas, images, etc. These make up the meaning or content of a given experience, and are distinct from the things they present or mean.

Husserl and Merleau-Ponty spoke of pure description of lived experience. (...while...) Heidegger and his followers spoke of hermeneutics, the art of interpretation in context, especially social and linguistic context. 

How does this jibe with the kind of phenomenology Bachelard uses to explore "house"....or relate to "embodied cognition" as Lakoff and Johnson might use it, or Matthew Crawford's grounded experience of the skilled worker attending to her materials? And how can it realte to the work of Christopher Alexander's efforts to do a more humane kind of architecture?

Getting back to things themselves seems to be the trick. One blogger <http://itotd.com/articles/237/phenomenology/> explains the phenomenological description (PD) process this way:

The first step is to consider the memory of a very recent experience—phenomenology is not normally done in real time—and subject it to a process known variously as epoché, bracketing, or phenomenological reduction. Much like the Cartesian method of doubt, epoché is a temporary suspension of any external beliefs, placing one’s focus solely on the “raw” experience itself. The goal is to ignore empirical data—along with intuitions and judgments—and simply describe your experience in detail.

In other words, PD is trying to get down to what you "see" and "feel" not just what you "think is there".  It's what the facilitator, working with those reviewing student work, try to get folk to do by enforcing the protocol that asks "what do you see here?"

In all encounters, in conversation, there is great value to be had by dropping my frames and presumptions, and just taking it all in. Indeed, the other person is "in me" and growing in me, but the more I can take them at face value, the more i will see and hear, the closer I come to understanding.

Embodied cognition tells us that much of our daily experience is derived from pre-existing frames and "objects" constructed out of earlier experience. We do so because processing all that data moment to moment is too taxing for the tiny, conscious tips of our minds.  

Phenomenological description is a very taxing activity. It requires setting aside our quick mental toolset (forms, templates, precedents, filters, etc.) and applying our more primitive receptors. It's felt as slow, and effortful, at least at first. It is done (see above) in post-time, yet it must draw on content received in real-time, at the encounter itself.  

So, when do we do PD--in real time or later? This is helpful:

Conscious experience is the starting point of phenomenology, but experience shades off into less overtly conscious phenomena. (as when bodily experience is employed via metaphor). 

As Husserl and others stressed, we are only vaguely aware of things in the margin or periphery of attention, and we are only implicitly aware of the wider horizon of things in the world around us. Moreover, as Heidegger stressed, in practical activities like walking along, or hammering a nail, or speaking our native tongue, we are not explicitly conscious of our habitual patterns of action. Furthermore, as psychoanalysts have stressed, much of our intentional mental activity is not conscious at all, but may become conscious in the process of therapy or interrogation, as we come to realize how we feel or think about something. We should allow, then, that the domain of phenomenology — our own experience — spreads out from conscious experience into semi-conscious and even unconscious mental activity, along with relevant background conditions implicitly invoked in our experience.

Phenomenology began with Plato, and the parable of the cave. He characterized daily experience of the world as illusory, and that the "real" world of forms, like the shadow-theater of the cave, lies beyond our unstudied experience. Now, of course we know he was right, but he was wrong. Right, that we live in a shadow-theater (the body, or more strictly the way the body manages its existence in a world it need not know directly in order to eat, excrete and reproduce), yet wrong in the notion of "forms" as the ground of reality. That reality, as quantum vs. Newtonian reality suggests, is still beyond us. 

So, how do we tie phenomenology to embodied cognition, per Lakoff and Johnson and Gibbs, et al? Through Merleau-Ponty.

Merleau-Ponty looked to experimental psychology, analyzing the reported experience of amputees who felt sensations in a phantom limb. (He)... focused on the “body image”, our experience of our own body and its significance in our activities. Extending Husserl's account of the lived body (as opposed to the physical body), Merleau-Ponty resisted the traditional Cartesian separation of mind and body. For the body image is neither in the mental realm nor in the mechanical-physical realm. Rather, my body is, as it were, me in my engaged action with things I perceive including other people.

And Aleaxander? His work, especially in A Pattern Language (APL), reflects a similar kind of return to more direct description of experience. His was expressed in a reaction to modernist, geometric abstraction and buildings-as-expressionist sculptures. 

His APL was not an invention of new architectural forms but their discovery within something already out there: vernacular architecture.  

CA may have begun with a gut revulsion to modernism. He then became an acute observer of vernacular forms he found more pleasing, and abstracted out those certain building forms ("patterns" taken from medieval pattern books used by artisans), expressed not in feet, or degrees, or by "historical styles" but by relations between human shelter, settlement, and social activity. After he wrote APL, he tries to more fully abstract these out in The Phenomenon of Life.  

In this sense, he began with a phenomenological description, not seeing buildings as pure design, but as a reflection of something emergent, shaped by countless experiences of human, situated activity.

Here is where I am right now: we cannot ever get beyond an embodied knowledge of ourselves or others or the outside world, period (except for math! JK). We can, however, learn a great deal more from our immediate experience IF we can subdue our fast-mind templating of a provisional reality in the interests of getting to the manifold impressions that same body provides for us from moment to moment, but which we typically ignore. 

Less processing, more raw data FIRST. 

Things are not just in-themselves, but are a product of our intentionality towards them and those first-person reports we tune into.

Thus, in a group setting, reviewing a work-product, we withhold judgement when we respond to "....what do you see?". We listen to what we have just said, as though for the first time.

Thus, in recalling a conversation with a friend just the other day, we ask ourselves "what were you feeling, but did not act on in that moment?" We feel again what we had felt, as though for the first time.

Thus, we can look at a text (or recorded speech) and ask "what's the metaphor here? What are its yields and its limits? We refer to our mental maps, as though for the first time.

And in the shop, I learn from my direct encounter with materials. 
A lot of my ideas don't work here. I bend things until they break. I ruin the finish on a new piece. I make joints that fall apart the next day. 
I stay with it. 
New things come up off the workbench. Surprises, happy accidents occur. 
I sand the block until it gleams, I knock the new joint with a hammer and hear it ring. 
My fingers, eyes and ears bring new reports. 
What I can imagine and what I can do seem to come closer.
My skills grow slowly. 
Delight comes with mastery, with closer attunement to the nature of things. 

The "real world", the world of things in themselves, will remain, as ever, just over the horizon. We shall never see them, but we may understand them better by seeing them again, as though for the first time.

Monday, November 30, 2015

Station (standing Desk) 3 Years Out

Three years out, I'm finding that I actually stand and work for 90% of the tasks I do here  at my "station" (I stand as I write this, for example). In terms of how I spend the TIME ON TASK may be a different story. I've never done a systematic study of how I use the station, but I do have some general observations:

I use a diversity of postures, three to be exact

I can stand, sit at a stool, or sit (or recline!) on the couch right behind me. I have a lectern I made to bring my laptop up to 48" when I'm standing and using the computer. When I get tired, I pull the stool over and rest the laptop directly on the table, which is at 43". I seldom sit for long at the stool though. My back gets stiff after 15 minutes or so, and I return to standing or do something else . I sometimes rest one foot on a low stool under the station, just to relieve my back muscles a bit. 

I'm a short-order worker.
Most of my tasks range from a few seconds to a few minutes, and even then, I'm relatively fidgety. (My wife has better sitzfleisch than I, and can sit in front of her laptop for hours.)  I seldom stand for more than a few minutes without stepping back to stretch, or walking around the house (a "motor break", or sitting briefly before coming back to the station. I do extended tasks like drawing or Photoshop or keyboarding at the 48" level. When I'm really engaged, I can work more or less continuously at the station for hours. I stand or pace when on conference calls. The station is perfect for other things like wrapping gifts, watercoloring, sorting the mail, or for small repair jobs.

Sitting and reclining are fine too.
I find I do want to SIT on the sofa to read anything longer than a few lines or a page at most. I generally sit for more casual phone calls, book-reading, and the newspaper. On days when I am at home in the PM, I love my naps, and I come back here to read when I find myself wide awake at 3:00 AM.

I cannot imagine going back to work in an office, certainly not a seated one. 
Research shows that standing keeps one's metabolism high and is better for cardio fitness than sitting. I believe that. I find I'm more alert and focused (even with my "motor breaks") at the station than at a desk or table, and with 24 square feet of work space, plus all the little pigeonholes and shelves above the desk, I have access to a lot of tools. 

Monday, June 29, 2015

Obama's Pinckney Eulogy, line by line.

President Obama delivered the following eulogy at the funeral of the Rev.            
Clementa Pinckney at the College of Charleston’s campus this week. I’ve laid it out here with some comments on what must be one of the very best speeches he has ever given, which of course puts it in the company of best ever. His thinking is laid out clearly, and it is both original and compelling. He takes an unspeakably tragic situation and transforms it into a political argument, a call to action. His use of alliteration, repetition, and metaphor bring it to a Linconian level. 

What does not come across here is the masterful delivery, and the singing of course, which surprised everyone. 

OBAMA: Giving all praise and honor to God.
culture coded?...char. of AA churches?
(APPLAUSE) The Bible calls us to hope, to persevere and have faith in things not seen. They were still living by faith when they died, the scripture tells us.

They did not receive the things promised. They only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth.
Repetition, seen/unseen, “strangers here”
We are here today to remember a man of God who lived by faith, a man who believed in things not seen, a man who believed there were better days ahead off in the distance, a man of service, who persevered knowing full-well he would not receive all those things he was promised, because he believed his efforts would deliver a better life for those who followed, to Jennifer, his beloved wife, Eliana and Malana, his beautiful, wonderful daughters, to the Mother Emanuel family and the people of Charleston, the people of South Carolina.

I cannot claim to have had the good fortune to know Reverend Pinckney well, but I did have the pleasure of knowing him and meeting him here in South Carolina back when we were both a little bit younger…


… back when I didn’t have visible gray hair.


The first thing I noticed was his graciousness, his smile, his reassuring baritone, his deceptive sense of humor, all qualities that helped him wear so effortlessly a heavy burden of expectation.
Contraposed; “effortlessly, burden”
Friends of his remarked this week that when Clementa Pinckney entered a room, it was like the future arrived, that even from a young age, folks knew he was special, anointed. He was the progeny of a long line of the faithful, a family of preachers who spread God’s words, a family of protesters who so changed to expand voting rights and desegregate the South.

Clem heard their instruction, and he did not forsake their teaching. He was in the pulpit by 13, pastor by 18, public servant by 23. He did not exhibit any of the cockiness of youth nor youth’s insecurities. Instead, he set an example worthy of his position, wise beyond his years in his speech, in his conduct, in his love, faith and purity.
As a senator, he represented a sprawling swathe of low country, a place that has long been one of the most neglected in America, a place still racked by poverty and inadequate schools, a place where children can still go hungry and the sick can go without treatment — a place that needed somebody like Clem.
 beautiful, graceful prose.
(APPLAUSE) His position in the minority party meant the odds of winning more resources for his constituents were often long. His calls for greater equity were too-often unheeded. The votes he cast were sometimes lonely.

But he never gave up. He stayed true to his convictions. He would not grow discouraged. After a full day at the Capitol, he’d climb into his car and head to the church to draw sustenance from his family, from his ministry, from the community that loved and needed him. There, he would fortify his faith and imagine what might be.

Reverend Pinckney embodied a politics that was neither mean nor small. He conducted himself quietly and kindly and diligently. He encouraged progress not by pushing his ideas alone but by seeking out your ideas, partnering with you to make things happen. He was full of empathy and fellow feeling, able to walk in somebody else’s shoes and see through their eyes.

No wonder one of his Senate colleagues remembered Senator Pinckney as “the most gentle of the 46 of us, the best of the 46 of us.”

Clem was often asked why he chose to be a pastor and a public servant. But the person who asked probably didn’t know the history of AME Church.


As our brothers and sisters in the AME Church, we don’t make those distinctions. “Our calling,” Clem once said, “is not just within the walls of the congregation but the life and community in which our congregation resides.”


He embodied the idea that our Christian faith demands deeds and not just words, that the sweet hour of prayer actually lasts the whole week long, that to put our faith in action is more than just individual salvation, it’s about our collective salvation, that to feed the hungry, clothe the naked and house the homeless is not just a call for isolated charity but the imperative of a just society.
Reflects deep understanding of the church’s ideology
What a good man. Sometimes I think that’s the best thing to hope for when you’re eulogized, after all the words and recitations and resumes are read, to just say somebody was a good man.
Strikingly simple sentence, follow by a deep relection.

You don’t have to be of high (station) to be a good man.

Preacher by 13, pastor by 18, public servant by 23.
What a life Clementa Pinckney lived.
What an example he set.
What a model for his faith.
Three parallel phrases, followed by three parallel sentences.
And then to lose him at 41, slain in his sanctuary with eight wonderful members of his flock, each at different stages in life but bound together by a common commitment to God — Cynthia Hurd, Susie Jackson, Ethel Lance, DePayne Middleton Doctor, Tywanza Sanders, Daniel L. Simmons, Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, Myra Thompson.

Good people. Decent people. God-fearing people.
Threnody, again

People so full of life and so full of kindness, people who ran the race, who persevered, people of great faith.
..and again.
To the families of the fallen, the nation shares in your grief. Our pain cuts that much deeper because it happened in a church.
The church is and always has been the center of African American life…


… a place to call our own in a too-often hostile world, a sanctuary from so many hardships.

Over the course of centuries, black churches served as hush harbors, where slaves could worship in safety, praise houses, where their free descendants could gather and shout “Hallelujah…”
Metaphors: churches are harbors, houses, rest stops, bunkers.

… rest stops for the weary along the Underground Railroad, bunkers for the foot soldiers of the civil-rights movement.

They have been and continue to community centers, where we organize for jobs and justice, places of scholarship and network, places where children are loved and fed and kept out of harms way and told that they are beautiful and smart and taught that they matter.


That’s what happens in church. That’s what the black church means — our beating heart, the place where our dignity as a people in inviolate.
Church as a beating heart
There’s no better example of this tradition than Mother Emanuel, a church…


… a church built by blacks seeking liberty, burned to the ground because its founders sought to end slavery only to rise up again, a phoenix from these ashes. (APPLAUSE)

When there were laws banning all-black church gatherers, services happened here anyway in defiance of unjust laws. When there was a righteous movement to dismantle Jim Crow, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. preached from its pulpit, and marches began from its steps.

A sacred place, this church, not just for blacks, not just for Christians but for every American who cares about the steady expansion…
Starting small….

… of human rights and human dignity in this country, a foundation stone for liberty and justice for all.
… going big.
That’s what the church meant.


We do not know whether the killer of Reverend Pinckney and eight others knew all of this history, but he surely sensed the meaning of his violent act. It was an act that drew on a long history of bombs and arson and shots fired at churches, not random but as a means of control, a way to terrorize and oppress…
Now turns toward the particulars of the murder and the murderer and defines him as part of a larger effort…

… an act that he imagined would incite fear and recrimination, violence and suspicion, an act that he presumed would deepen divisions that trace back to our nation’s original sin.

Oh, but God works in mysterious ways.
A surprising turn, delivered almost with irony, with pleasure. As this point, I choked up, and I don’t even believe in a crafty, personal God.

God has different ideas.
And he reinforces the point.

He didn’t know he was being used by God.
….an astonishing and novel insight. It lifts and reframes the whole event.

Blinded by hatred, the alleged killer would not see the grace surrounding Reverend Pinckney and that Bible study group, the light of love that shown as they opened the church doors and invited a stranger to join in their prayer circle.
Subtly, the murderer is  the “one who cannot see”…
The alleged killer could have never anticipated the way the families of the fallen would respond when they saw him in court in the midst of unspeakable grief, with words of forgiveness. He couldn’t imagine that.


The alleged killer could not imagine how the city of Charleston under the good and wise leadership of Mayor Riley, how the state of South Carolina, how the United States of America would respond not merely with revulsion at his evil acts, but with (inaudible) generosity. And more importantly, with a thoughtful introspection and self-examination that we so rarely see in public life. Blinded by hatred, he failed to comprehend what Reverend Pinckney so well understood — the power of God’s grace.

Grace….he sets us up for another transition in thought
This whole week, I’ve been reflecting on this idea of grace.
Another coda borrowed from the AME tradition? Is this how pastors generally set up their weekly sermon topic?

The grace of the families who lost loved ones; the grace that Reverend Pinckney would preach about in his sermons; the grace described in one of my favorite hymnals, the one we all know — Amazing Grace.

How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.


I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind but now I see.


According to the Christian tradition, grace is not earned. Grace is not merited. It’s not something we deserve. Rather, grace is the free and benevolent favor of God.
Explains to the wider non Christian audience

As manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings. Grace — as a nation out of this terrible tragedy, God has visited grace upon us for he has allowed us to see where we’ve been blind.
And now it is us, the wider audience, the nation, who have been blind and now can see

He’s given us the chance where we’ve been lost to find out best selves. We may not have earned this grace with our rancor and complacency and short-sightedness and fear of each other, but we got it all the same. He gave it to us anyway. He’s once more given us grace.
Reminding us of our own lack of virtue in this matter
But it is up to us now to make the most of it, to receive it with gratitude and to prove ourselves worthy of this gift.
And lays out the terms of the transaction, the requirement of making sense of this tragedy.
For too long, we were blind to the pain that the Confederate Flag stirred into many of our citizens.


It’s true a flag did not cause these murders. But as people from all walks of life, Republicans and Democrats, now acknowledge, including Governor Haley, whose recent eloquence on the subject is worthy of praise…


… as we all have to acknowledge, the flag has always represented more than just ancestral pride.
Re-frame that flag

For many, black and white, that flag was a reminder of systemic oppression…


… and racial subjugation.


We see that now.
Now, we see
Removing the flag from this state’s capital would not be an act of political correctness. It would not an insult to the valor of Confederate soldiers. It would simply be acknowledgement that the cause for which they fought, the cause of slavery, was wrong.


The imposition of Jim Crow after the Civil War, the resistance to civil rights for all people was wrong.


It would be one step in an honest accounting of America’s history, a modest but meaningful balm for so many unhealed wounds.

It would be an expression of the amazing changes that have transformed this state and this country for the better because of the work of so many people of goodwill, people of all races, striving to form a more perfect union.

By taking down that flag, we express adds grace God’s grace.


But I don’t think God wants us to stop there.
Another turn, an elevation in purpose, an increased demand

For too long, we’ve been blind to be way past injustices continue to shape the present.


Perhaps we see that now. Perhaps this tragedy causes us to ask some tough questions about how we can permit so many of our children to languish in poverty…


… or attend dilapidated schools or grow up without prospects for a job or for a career.

Perhaps it causes us to examine what we’re doing to cause some of our children to hate.


Perhaps it softens hearts towards those lost young men, tens and tens of thousands caught up in the criminal-justice system and lead us to make sure that that system’s not infected with bias.


… that we embrace changes in how we train and equip our police so that the bonds of trust between law enforcement…


… and the communities they serve make us all safer and more secure.


Maybe we now realize the way a racial bias can infect us even when we don’t realize it so that we’re guarding against not just racial slurs but we’re also guarding against the subtle impulse to call Johnny back for a job interview but not Jamal…


… so that we search our hearts when we consider laws to make it harder for some of our fellow citizens to vote…


… by recognizing our common humanity, by treating every child as important, regardless of the color of their skin…


… or the station into which they were born and to do what’s necessary to make opportunity real for every American. By doing that, we express God’s grace.


For too long…


For too long, we’ve been blind to the unique mayhem that gun violence inflicts upon this nation.


Sporadically, our eyes are open when eight of our brothers and sisters are cut down in a church basement, 12 in a movie theater, 26 in an elementary school. But I hope we also see the 30 precious lives cut short by gun violence in this country every single day…


… the countless more whose lives are forever changed, the survivors crippled, the children traumatized and fearful every day as they walk to school, the husband who will never feel his wife’s warm touch, the entire communities whose grief overflows every time they have to watch what happened to them happening to some other place.

The vast majority of Americans, the majority of gun owners want to do something about this. We see that now.


And I’m convinced that by acknowledging the pain and loss of others, even as we respect the traditions, ways of life that make up this beloved country, by making the moral choice to change, we express God’s grace.
He’s concluding the larger argument.

We don’t earn grace. We’re all sinners. We don’t deserve it.
Recapping it in short declarative sentences

But God gives it to us anyway.


And we choose how to receive it. It’s our decision how to honor it.

None of us can or should expect a transformation in race relations overnight. Every time something like this happens, somebody says, “We have to have a conversation about race.” We talk a lot about race.

There’s no shortcut. We don’t need more talk.


None of us should believe that a handful of gun safety measures will prevent every tragedy.

It will not. People of good will will continue to debate the merits of various policies as our democracy requires — the big, raucous place, America is. And there are good people on both sides of these debates.

Whatever solutions we find will necessarily be incomplete. But it would be a betrayal of everything Reverend Pinckney stood for, I believe, if we allow ourselves to slip into a comfortable silence again


Once the eulogies have been delivered, once the TV cameras move on, to go back to business as usual. That’s what we so often do to avoid uncomfortable truths about the prejudice that still infects our society.


To settle for symbolic gestures without following up with the hard work of more lasting change, that’s how we lose our way again. It would be a refutation of the forgiveness expressed by those families if we merely slipped into old habits whereby those who disagree with us are not merely wrong, but bad; where we shout instead of listen; where we barricade ourselves behind preconceived notions or well-practiced cynicism.

Reverend Pinckney once said, “Across the south, we have a deep appreciation of history. We haven’t always had a deep appreciation of each other’s history.”


What is true in the south is true for America. Clem understood that justice grows out of recognition of ourselves in each other; that my liberty depends on you being free, too.
Tying the small to the large, the present to history, these 9 to us all

That — that history can’t be a sword to justify injustice or a shield against progress. It must be a manual for how to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past, how to break the cycle, a roadway toward a better world. He knew that the path of grace involves an open mind. But more importantly, an open heart.

That’s what I felt this week — an open heart. That more than any particular policy or analysis is what’s called upon right now, I think. It’s what a friend of mine, the writer Marilyn Robinson, calls “that reservoir of goodness beyond and of another kind, that we are able to do each other in the ordinary cause of things.”

That reservoir of goodness. If we can find that grace, anything is possible.


If we can tap that grace, everything can change. Amazing grace, amazing grace.
Here’s point: receive this grace, use it in this very way.
Amazing grace…
The audience is astonished again, the eulogizer has become the preacher, the leader of song


… how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind, but now, I see.


Clementa Pinckney found that grace…
Uses the familiar lyric to set up this coda

… Cynthia Hurd found that grace…


… Susie Jackson found that grace…


… Ethel Lance found that grace…


… DePayne Middleton Doctor found that grace…


… Tywanza Sanders found that grace…


… Daniel L. Simmons, Sr. found that grace…

(APPLAUSE) … Sharonda Coleman-Singleton found that grace…


… Myra Thompson found that grace…


… through the example of their lives. They’ve now passed it onto us. May we find ourselves worthy of that precious and extraordinary gift as long as our lives endure.

May grace now lead them home. May God continue to shed His Grace on the United States of America.