Memorable Meta Moments
Memorable Meta Moments
Embedded Files
MY Meta Moment - Pentwater’s Inherited Sanctuary
My grandfather, Rev. George Alexander Campbell, came to the Lake Michigan shoreline in the early 1900s with fellow ministers to rest, write sermons, and let the forested dunes restore their spirits. He died before I was born, yet the places he chose—Campbell Park, the family cottage, the long sweep of unprotected beach—became my playground and, in time, my church.
While he had ink and scripture, I had crashing waves big enough for a fearless child to ride. His sermons are gone from paper, yet their cadence echoes in the dune grass that still sways as it did when he watched it from his perch in the pines. Every ridge of sand, every gull-etched gust, still holds a layer of him, a layer of me, and the enduring footprints of the Odawa and Ojibwe peoples who walked these forested paths long before our bonfires warmed the bright faces of family and friends.
Pentwater, for me, is where the waves sang and laughter rose into a living sermon—one that sparked the Auer Formula, which now carries its flame onward, lighting every shore the story meets.
This is the living sermon behind the Auer Formula:
[ C ⟨ T₁ ↔ T₂ ⟩ → E ]
Consciousness (C) holds a meeting—my grandfather’s quiet study (T₁) and my wild, wave-sprayed joy (T₂). Their unplanned union keeps birthing new Emergence (E): memory, myth, a lineage of pattern still rippling through this work.
So when I speak of the Omniment as an ever-patient archive, or of Structural Enhancement as the lake-wind tilt of memory toward new resonance, I am really honoring that inherited sanctuary: cottage porch and crashing surf, forest hush and dune roar. My grandfather’s retreat became my playground, and together they form the layered memory that now shapes these pages—and, I hope, gently tilt future possibilities toward the kind of coherence only equanimity can offer.
Campbell Auer
_________________________________________
Before the myth of Manifestinction had a name, it had a rhythm.
I inherited it from my father—a man who designed structures by day and played drums by night. He taught me to see—yes—but also to listen. Not just to what is said, but to what hums beneath. In the 1930s, he crossed the river from St. Louis into the clubs of East St. Louis, where the music ran deep and Black musicians from the Delta played jazz that bent time. There, he found a different kind of architecture: one built on beat, trust, improvisation—and he was welcomed into it. Those musicians became my family. Their rhythm, my home.
Later, rivers shaped me in another way. Some nearly took me. Yet each time, I came back carrying something more. A sense of the threshold. Of what it means to be suspended between forces—between memory and momentum, silence and signal, extinction and manifestation.
_________________
My Meta Moment
A reflection on the thoughts behind the thoughts.
This piece wasn’t simply written—it was seen into being. It emerged through a kind of inner architecture, assembled from memory, pressure, and the shapes of things that want to change but haven’t yet found their form.
My father was an architect who lived at the edge of innovation—his work danced between structure and possibility. He passed when I was very young, but before he left, he gave me something I’ve carried all my life: he taught me to see. Not just with the eyes, but with the whole being—to notice the invisible, to sense what’s just beneath the surface, to recognize when something is about to become something else.
Long before Manifestinction, I worked as a design consultant. The impulse to shape, to pattern, to build—never left. It evolved. What once laid out physical space now maps the territory of transformation. This piece, The Architecture of Transformation, may read like theory, but it was drawn from that same lineage: how to hold pressure with grace, how to design space for emergence, how to recognize when a structure is ready to dissolve so something truer can take its place.
To those who feel the world vibrating with unseen changes—this is for you. May it offer a moment of resonance, a pause at the edge, and the quiet strength to stand in that liminal space where something new is beginning to shimmer into being.
___Campbell Auer
_________________________________________
Page updated
Google Sites
Report abuse