I visited my family's shore house over spring break and decidedly took a night walk along the mile-long lane. The lane is sandy and heavily wooded on either side, so the only light was reflected from the moon; even so it was too dark to make out much. It was during this walk, without shoes, that I decided that i'd be just as well off with my eyes shut than I was with them open... in otherwords, i challenged myself to walk the better part of a mile, relying soley on my alternate senses (It was somewhat of a dumb idea, but if blind people can do it, so can I.). I got several good paces into my mission and realized that the tough grass bewteen the tire lines in the lane would serve as my buffer zone. I figured out which way the breeze was blowing and used that, as well as listening to echoes as a way to tell general direction. At many points i wanted to open my eyes but I decided that if I managed to survive without major injury, I'd have something to be proud of. Long story short, I stepped on way too many sharp things and tripped on countless sticks, but in the end made it to the gate and paved road.
In a way, I connected this experience with nature literacy and liminality because I put myself in a cituation where i was heavily dependent upon what information I could gather from my surroundings. Also, I sripped myself of my strongest sense in order to better connect with the "whole" rather that the "fragments" of what limited night vision and a quicker paced walk allow.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Lauren Crocker - Practice of the Wild
Snyder speaks of the aboriginal Pintubi tribe’s reverence for the wild in his essay, Good, Wild, Sacred, while noting the walking tales shared by an elder, Mr. Tjungurray (82). The stories passed down to younger tribesmen associate place with legend, which aids in tribal reverence for, as well as connection to the land. The stories highlighted sacred locations which were fantastic in shape or feeling; therefore they were anointed as ‘“dreaming spots” for certain totem ancestors’. I became especially interested in Totemism upon reading about the aboriginal means by which ancestors remain connected to the living. The “dreamtime” described by Snyder refers to the animism associated with a location and fluidity of time which allows for connection with a “mythical past”, or in Dögen’s words, “Time/Being” (Snyder, 84-85).
Dreamtime is the curtain call in theater. Everyone is there; dead, alive, future... unity through symbolic presence.
It is interesting to invision time as having no bearing on the subconscious because reflection is the act of revisiting a nonmaterial subject which may have once been experienced. On the same note, i also wander what dreaming is. How is it that we as humans imagine events which have never directly been a part of? Can dreamtime still be considered a connection if we are consciously building a scenario using what we know in order to create?
Another topic which caught my attention in Synders essay was the use of stories to engrain a map in young Pintubi tribesmen. In a way i relate this to my life in that i recall looking out of the car window as a young child on the way to and from my home and making mental notes of the landscape so that i could know the way back. Now, as an adult, and even as a teenager, I am able to fall asleep in the car and wake up knowing exactly where i am by the feeling of the car and the sound of the tires on the road, or the curves and turns. I link this to the idea of indentifying a cosmos, just as Cabeza de Vaca defined his surroundings when captured by the shaman, or Adam when instructed by God to name the creatures of the earth.
Dreamtime is the curtain call in theater. Everyone is there; dead, alive, future... unity through symbolic presence.
It is interesting to invision time as having no bearing on the subconscious because reflection is the act of revisiting a nonmaterial subject which may have once been experienced. On the same note, i also wander what dreaming is. How is it that we as humans imagine events which have never directly been a part of? Can dreamtime still be considered a connection if we are consciously building a scenario using what we know in order to create?
Another topic which caught my attention in Synders essay was the use of stories to engrain a map in young Pintubi tribesmen. In a way i relate this to my life in that i recall looking out of the car window as a young child on the way to and from my home and making mental notes of the landscape so that i could know the way back. Now, as an adult, and even as a teenager, I am able to fall asleep in the car and wake up knowing exactly where i am by the feeling of the car and the sound of the tires on the road, or the curves and turns. I link this to the idea of indentifying a cosmos, just as Cabeza de Vaca defined his surroundings when captured by the shaman, or Adam when instructed by God to name the creatures of the earth.
Lauren Crocker - Lion's Bridge
It is simple to ask a person to look upon a landscape, yet, to “see” is an entirely different process. The trained eye observes the clandestine qualities of wilderness in ways dissimilar to the common viewer. In this way, I found it difficult to switch of my biological reasoning: numerous concepts and theories which were pumped into my head since seventh-grade life-science. While observing the areas surrounding the Noland Trail and Lion’s Bridge my focus teeter-tottered between seeking minute detail and experiencing the feeling of the place. I caught myself staring intently at bits of bright-colored moss or may apples spiraling up from the ground like unopened umbrellas. Annie Dillard writes in her essay, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, that she “…just can’t see the artificial obvious that those in the know construct” (18). For me it is the same, as well as the opposite. According to Professor Stewart Edward White, the difference is natural and artificial obviousness. I want to see both sides, but the conscious effort limits that ability.
It is difficult to apply what can easily be said about seeing and recognizing the spirituality of a place; even the woods along the Lion’s Bridge voice lessons for those willing to cast aside self-awareness and connect. Artificial obvious and natural obvious can be balanced, so that neither aspect of seeing or experiencing may be leaned upon to heavily. I prefer to be conscious of both the scientific and spiritual aspects of nature in order to get the most from it, yet keep the experiences separate as to prevent a narrowing of subconscious scope.
It is difficult to apply what can easily be said about seeing and recognizing the spirituality of a place; even the woods along the Lion’s Bridge voice lessons for those willing to cast aside self-awareness and connect. Artificial obvious and natural obvious can be balanced, so that neither aspect of seeing or experiencing may be leaned upon to heavily. I prefer to be conscious of both the scientific and spiritual aspects of nature in order to get the most from it, yet keep the experiences separate as to prevent a narrowing of subconscious scope.
Lauren Crocker - Practice of the Wild
I found that Good, Wild, Sacred provided a general understanding of human interaction with nature, and how that relationship often decays with modernized human perspective. Nature is Order (93) and therefore nature trains man. It is limited human understanding that pushes us to control “pests” and pull weeds and mow down perfect patchwork fields for planting. The reason for this is that we do not see natural order, merely because it pales in the grand scheme of human control. It is said, “That which appears to be chaotic in nature is only a more complex kind of order” (93). Biological science reveals daily the inner workings of the wild, however, man lacks in application. Nature can best be described as riddled with order and precision, yet the concept of natural order is seldom acknowledged in the casual setting. This requires training, “a training that helps us realize our own true nature and nature” (92). To accept nature for its predisposition is to connect. To connect is to feel understanding and enlightenment, or perhaps, sense a higher power or force. Through this unity stems association with the sacred and understanding of spiritual value, rather than “goodness” alone.
Modern culture often seeks to develop that which is already productive in order to gain control of natural chaos. By understanding how the wild may change us and individuals, we can better use nature. By applying what nature may teach, we can better identify and protect that which is sacred, rather than endanger what is naturally complex for personal gain. Truly comprehending nature is finding the connection between self preservation and that of the wild
Modern culture often seeks to develop that which is already productive in order to gain control of natural chaos. By understanding how the wild may change us and individuals, we can better use nature. By applying what nature may teach, we can better identify and protect that which is sacred, rather than endanger what is naturally complex for personal gain. Truly comprehending nature is finding the connection between self preservation and that of the wild
Amanda DeSalme, buttercups...
This afternoon on my way to the Ferguson center, I encountered a patch of buttercups. They were all smiling up at me with their shiny yellow petals. There is something simplistic about their lifestyle that lifts my spirits and reminds me not to care/worry too much. They also reminded me of my childhood, when I would run around my yard and pick a handful of buttercups to put in a cup of water on the table of our kitchen. A common theme in my blogs seems to be recalling of childhood memories. Perhaps that is telling us something. The best way to view the world is through a child's eyes. We should view it with wonder and awe, we should marvel at simple beauty. We should appreciate the awesomeness around us. I tend to be extremely optimistic, and so have not written much about the "horrors" of nature. Yes, there are some awful things to witness (or read about) in nature. There is the horror of a tornado or a tsunami or some other awful slap in the face of our civilization. But even this disastrous, destructive force of nature fills me with wonder and a great realization of a higher power. Some unknown omnipotent being has capabilities beyond our intelligence to create and control this world around us. That is some awesome and terrifying power. But back to the buttercups...they were so lovely and happy and they brightened my day, so I felt compelled to write as much. :)
Noland Trail, Noah Ryan
I have recently been trying to change my relationship with the world from an I-It to an I-You. When walking on the Noland Trail, I realized that it is easy to see the human influence on the place, and it is easy, also, to see my own personal impact, small as it may be. What I want to understand is the places influence on me.
The first thing the the place does is fill the senses with itself. Dillard discusses how writing makes one a writer. If one spends time in a place, and fills their sense with the place, the way it sounds and smells and so on, then their mind is in some way formed as something filled with and created by the place.
In relation to something we talked about in class a long time ago, the place also inhabits us. The thoughts it inspires and the feelings we get from it are the place entering us and becoming part of us. One such thought that was inspired by my walk on the Noland Trail was that while humans have had a great deal of influence on the landscape, the most influential beings by far are the trees. They determine the animals and plants that can live in the area, and they inspired our species to make little trails between them. They keep the river from being an eroding influence, and them provide food and shelter to thousands of beings.
I am trying here to leave behind the tradition that would deny the trees any agency in this matter. I have been able to encounter a tree before, but never for more than a second. My self consciousness of my situation and the power of my cultural indoctrination make it very difficult to see a plant as a You. Dillard has some good things to say about losing the ego to be able to interact with the animals she is always interrogating, which makes me think of the change in the I-You relationship that the I will experience. In other words, it seems that to have an I-You relationship with the beings around her, Dillard forgets her I, or maybe changes it into something less self-conscious and limited.
The first thing the the place does is fill the senses with itself. Dillard discusses how writing makes one a writer. If one spends time in a place, and fills their sense with the place, the way it sounds and smells and so on, then their mind is in some way formed as something filled with and created by the place.
In relation to something we talked about in class a long time ago, the place also inhabits us. The thoughts it inspires and the feelings we get from it are the place entering us and becoming part of us. One such thought that was inspired by my walk on the Noland Trail was that while humans have had a great deal of influence on the landscape, the most influential beings by far are the trees. They determine the animals and plants that can live in the area, and they inspired our species to make little trails between them. They keep the river from being an eroding influence, and them provide food and shelter to thousands of beings.
I am trying here to leave behind the tradition that would deny the trees any agency in this matter. I have been able to encounter a tree before, but never for more than a second. My self consciousness of my situation and the power of my cultural indoctrination make it very difficult to see a plant as a You. Dillard has some good things to say about losing the ego to be able to interact with the animals she is always interrogating, which makes me think of the change in the I-You relationship that the I will experience. In other words, it seems that to have an I-You relationship with the beings around her, Dillard forgets her I, or maybe changes it into something less self-conscious and limited.
Eric Stoll - The Practice of the Wild #1
Gary Snyder mentions an instance in which the American Indian Movement attempted to block the expansion of mining into lands in the Black Hills that were not only located within U.S. Forest Service land, but were also considered to be sacred by the traditional Lakota inhabitants. This example Snyder uses leads me to ask what I feel is a valid question: what gives a place the distinction of being sacred? Snyder suggests that the Native Americans have sacred lands as a result of their cultural tradition of connecting religion to the landscape. Snyder believes this connection between native religion and the landscape to be “virtually incomprehensible to Euro-Americans.” (Snyder, 87). I disagree with Snyder’s explanation of what constitutes a sacred landscape and furthermore his generally low opinion of the non-native population, which according to his writings, has little ability to develop a spiritual connection with the land. My argument is that the definition of a “sacred landscape” is not solely determined by the religious traditions of the native population, but it is also developed by the personal experiences of the individual. A childhood experience may lead me to consider an ordinary field or patch of woods to have great significance. While my individual experiences may lead me to consider a landscape to be sacred on a personal level, the lack of religious tradition surrounding it may rule it out of such a distinction in Snyder’s opinion. While I may feel Snyder’s concept of a sacred landscape may be too one dimensional for my liking, I certainly will not discredit the Native American’s tradition of connectedness between religion and nature. I do find it unfortunate; however, that a location in which I consider to be sacred due to personal reasons is more likely to be bulldozed and turned into a strip mall, than a Indian burial site is likely to be mined.
Keenan Lofton- Topic of Choice 1
In class we have watched a lot of movies and slideshows about peoples experiences on the Appalachian Trail. The one that got my attention the most was the one with the guy who carried the camera a long with him and interviewed himself. I’m drawing a blank on the name of the movie but it got me thinking when Dr. Redick mention about if he was actually connecting with wilderness if he is talking to the camera at the same time. When thinking about this at first, I thought, of course the guy was interacting with nature, I mean he is hiking. But then after some class discussion I realized that this was taking away the guys experience of nature. For him to be totally in touch with nature he would have to have no distractions, especially that of a manmade object. Then I got to wondering if having a camera on the trail and interviewing hikers disturbed their experience. I came to the conclusion that as long as the person doesn’t interrupt the hikers hike, then it shouldn’t hinder their experience.
Eric Stoll - A Continuous Harmony # 2
In the chapter of A Continuous Harmony titled "A homage to Dr. Williams", Wendell Berry makes a statement that sticks out to me. In this statement, Berry is referring to the poet William Carlos Williams, who he claims that he "knew, more than white Americans have ever known, that a man has not meaningfully arrived in his place in body until he has arrived in spirit as well." I found this statement to be significant to me as it is something I can easily relate to. I feel as if I have always had a tumultuous relationship with Virginia, the place I have grown up in and continue to live in. For years I have always promised myself that I would leave the state at the first opportunity, eventually settling in a place that better suits me, whether it by somewhere like New York or over on the west coast. Berry's opinion towards William Carlos Williams forces me to contemplate my own viewpoints on the place I live. I have seemingly determined that the grass is greener on the other side and that I would be much happier somewhere else, yet I feel that if I am not happy with who, not where I am, I wont be able to find true happiness anywhere. In the end, I want to achieve what Berry states that Williams' poetry did to him, which was to "satisfy me of the possibility of life wherever I have lived."
Eric Stoll - A Continuous Harmony #1
A passage from Wendell Berry's A Continuous Harmony that sparked my interest can be found on page 5 in the chapter titled "A Secular Pilgrimage." In this chapter, Berry discuses as to what he perceives to be the greatest failure in human religion. Berry believes that religion, most notably Christianity, promotes a negative relationship between man and nature. Berry states that in response to the question on how man should live in the world, Christianity has "usually tended to give a non-answer" by asserting that "he should live for the next world." I agree with
Berry's assessment on Christianity here. I was born into a Christian family, and while we were not regular church goers, I was always surrounded by elements of Christian ideology, especially as a part of my experience while attending Catholic school for 13 years. My exposure to these ideologies, I feel, is responsible for my gradual dissatisfaction with the Christian faith that has grown over the years. While I still consider part of myself to be "spiritual" in common sense of the word, I believe in a higher power and a greater purpose behind life, my belief in the ideologies behind Christianity have dwindled. Berry's viewpoint on Christianity's relationship with nature for the most part parallels my issues with Christian ideology. I feel that too much emphasis is placed upon the afterlife rather than the quality of life we have now.
Berry's assessment on Christianity here. I was born into a Christian family, and while we were not regular church goers, I was always surrounded by elements of Christian ideology, especially as a part of my experience while attending Catholic school for 13 years. My exposure to these ideologies, I feel, is responsible for my gradual dissatisfaction with the Christian faith that has grown over the years. While I still consider part of myself to be "spiritual" in common sense of the word, I believe in a higher power and a greater purpose behind life, my belief in the ideologies behind Christianity have dwindled. Berry's viewpoint on Christianity's relationship with nature for the most part parallels my issues with Christian ideology. I feel that too much emphasis is placed upon the afterlife rather than the quality of life we have now.
Eric Stoll - Lion's Gate Bridge
I realized that the majority of my fellow students have decided to use their experience at the Lion's gate bridge as a topic for this blog. In the spirit of conformity, I have decided to follow suit and address my opinion on this location. The thing that caught my attention at the Lion's Gate was not the natural landscape that surrounded me. Instead it was the people that I encountered while walking along the Noland Trail that led me contemplate about man's relationship with nature. The majority of individuals who I ran into on the trail appeared not to be there in order to experience nature or expand their relationship with wilderness. The people I encountered typically were runners, complete with their ipod headphones in their ears and a completely oblivious look on their faces. I didn't want to be too judgmental, but I couldn't help wonder if these people viewed the park as a true piece of nature, or as just another place for their own benefit. I suppose the value of a location is in the eye of the beholder, but I felt as if the lion's bridge was not true piece of nature, but instead a man made facility given a facade to make it appear as if it were a natural setting.
Keenan Lofton- Continuous Harmony 2
In reading a Continuous Harmony by Wendell Berry, I had a good experience with the paragraph on page 36. It was about walking in the dark, and when doing so all your senses become so much better. This brought up some memories of the times when I was younger and walking in the dark by myself and experiencing the increased level of my senses. It seemed like I was able to hear every noise in my neighborhood, whether it be a stick falling or an animal rustling in the bushes. Whatever it was, I was able to sense so many things. I guess that being in the dark and being scared (since I was young), allowed me to understand all that was going on around me.
Keenan Lofton- Continuous Harmony 1
In a class discussion a week or so ago we talked about myth and the authentic. This location of this discussion was on page 27 in A Continuous Harmony by Wendell Berry. “To imagine is to realize, to sense the authentic.” This was a quote that we concentrated on in class when we talked about what was authentic. In this discussion what really surprised me was Redick’s story about the Greek salads. It was interesting that no “authentic” Greek salad contains lettuce. During this lecture I was thinking to myself that one of my favorite foods to eat is Chinese food. I really have no idea what authentic Chinese food tastes like. It makes me want to go to china or another Asian country one day and experience their culture and eat what the food really tastes like instead of what us Americans want it to taste like.
Eric Stoll - The Tetons
This past spring break I traveled to Grand Teton National Park in Wyoming. This trip deviated from the typical college spring break experience, which usually consists of students escaping from the pressures of college life on a sunny beach and partaking in a wide variety of activities, whether they are legal or not. Therefore I was not very surprised at the responses I received when I told people where I had gone on my spring break. The responses most commonly given was: "what is there to do in Wyoming?" I answered this question with one word: nothing. The "nothingness" that comprises Wyoming is what makes it unique and so attractive. I feel that people often travel to places to experience the attractions located there, not the place itself. The Tetons have these attractions in the form of ski resorts and high end shopping in the nearby town of Jackson, but it was these places that I prefered to stay away from. Instead, I opted to simply enjoy the mountains, the clean air and the wide open spaces around me. My vacation to the Tetons was not a typical one, as it did not focus upon the attractions of the location, but instead centered around finding inspiration from the natural landscape.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Kiara Girkins Annie Dillard Response 1
"Few sights are so absurd as that of an inchworm leading its dimwit life. Inchworms are the caterpillar larvae of several moths or butterflies. The cabbage looper, for example, is an inchworm. I often see an inchworm: it is a skinny bright green thing, pale and thin as a vein, an inch long, and apparently totally unfit for life in this world. It wears out its days in constant panic," Annie Dillard, from "Three" pg. 552.
When I read this passage at first, I really didn't think too much about it, I simply smiled at the thought of a little inchworm making its way across the leaf of one of the trees in my backyard. However, when I thought back over the passage, I realized that if it is the fact that it "lives out its days in constant panic" which makes it unfit for this world, then we all may have a bit of a problem. I mean, think about it. When was the last time you went more than a day without stressing about something? We all do it, it's a fast paced world out there and it can be a major pain to try to keep up with. We work none stop, killing ourselves simply to make it to the next stage of our lives until we finally make it to the end and realize all we did was panic about things that really don't matter in the end because they cannot change the end result. So I guess what Annie Dillard is saying, is that because death is a part of this world, if we are in constant panic over death and getting a million things done before death, then we are not ready for this world, much like the little inchworm.
When I read this passage at first, I really didn't think too much about it, I simply smiled at the thought of a little inchworm making its way across the leaf of one of the trees in my backyard. However, when I thought back over the passage, I realized that if it is the fact that it "lives out its days in constant panic" which makes it unfit for this world, then we all may have a bit of a problem. I mean, think about it. When was the last time you went more than a day without stressing about something? We all do it, it's a fast paced world out there and it can be a major pain to try to keep up with. We work none stop, killing ourselves simply to make it to the next stage of our lives until we finally make it to the end and realize all we did was panic about things that really don't matter in the end because they cannot change the end result. So I guess what Annie Dillard is saying, is that because death is a part of this world, if we are in constant panic over death and getting a million things done before death, then we are not ready for this world, much like the little inchworm.
Kiara Girkins- C.S. Lewis
March 19, 2008
In nature, if you want to truly experience it, you cannot just look at it, you must use all of your senses to experience it. C.S. Lewis says that to have a love of nature, you cannot discriminate against any of its parts. He explains this by refering to a painter who merely sees a scene; he does not feel it or listen to it. Lewis says you must "Look. Listen," and feel the moods of the place. If you allow yourself to use all of your senses to experience and love nature, then you will be moved by its moods of time and season, and you will recognize the spirit of a place. Your understanding of nature in its various forms will enable you to more greatly appreciate and connect with it. It's similar to the saying, "you can't judge a book by its cover." You can't just see something to know it, you must listen to it and interact with it to know and love the spirit of it. When you concern yourself with an act of discrimination by not realizing every part of a place, you cannot truly love it because you do not know it. Annd when you critiqu it by experiencing it with a biased mindset, you are preventing yourself from understanding it because you are trying to experience it in a way that is does not exist. You cannot define nature, let nature define itself for you.
In nature, if you want to truly experience it, you cannot just look at it, you must use all of your senses to experience it. C.S. Lewis says that to have a love of nature, you cannot discriminate against any of its parts. He explains this by refering to a painter who merely sees a scene; he does not feel it or listen to it. Lewis says you must "Look. Listen," and feel the moods of the place. If you allow yourself to use all of your senses to experience and love nature, then you will be moved by its moods of time and season, and you will recognize the spirit of a place. Your understanding of nature in its various forms will enable you to more greatly appreciate and connect with it. It's similar to the saying, "you can't judge a book by its cover." You can't just see something to know it, you must listen to it and interact with it to know and love the spirit of it. When you concern yourself with an act of discrimination by not realizing every part of a place, you cannot truly love it because you do not know it. Annd when you critiqu it by experiencing it with a biased mindset, you are preventing yourself from understanding it because you are trying to experience it in a way that is does not exist. You cannot define nature, let nature define itself for you.
Kiara Girkins- How Europeans Won Out
May 1, 2008
Many opponents of the idea that the conflicting habitus of the Native Americans and the European Settlers was the direct cause of the decline of wilderness as a sacred place would argue that wilderness never became less of a sacred place to Native Americans, but rather European thought simply became the majority. Although this argument may certainly have some validity, it does not account for the full ideals of the Native Americans. They believe that all land is sacred, and though they had a number of specific locations in which they performed certain rituals or considered to be completely forbidden, nature in general was not to be owned or destroyed. Europeans, as explained earlier, saw land as something to be possessed and was expendable. Europeans had extracted themselves from the give and take relationship of the circle of life, and put themselves on top of a theoretical hierarchy. So, what such an argument fails to consider, is that while Native Americans never stopped seeing wilderness as sacred, the quantity of such land leftover after European settlement was greatly decreased. And the very definition of habitus is the way one lives within a particular habitat, so as the two differing habitus of the Native Americans and the Europeans fought for priority within a single habitat, the conflict between the two led to the downfall of wilderness as a sacred place when the Europeans habitus won out.
Many opponents of the idea that the conflicting habitus of the Native Americans and the European Settlers was the direct cause of the decline of wilderness as a sacred place would argue that wilderness never became less of a sacred place to Native Americans, but rather European thought simply became the majority. Although this argument may certainly have some validity, it does not account for the full ideals of the Native Americans. They believe that all land is sacred, and though they had a number of specific locations in which they performed certain rituals or considered to be completely forbidden, nature in general was not to be owned or destroyed. Europeans, as explained earlier, saw land as something to be possessed and was expendable. Europeans had extracted themselves from the give and take relationship of the circle of life, and put themselves on top of a theoretical hierarchy. So, what such an argument fails to consider, is that while Native Americans never stopped seeing wilderness as sacred, the quantity of such land leftover after European settlement was greatly decreased. And the very definition of habitus is the way one lives within a particular habitat, so as the two differing habitus of the Native Americans and the Europeans fought for priority within a single habitat, the conflict between the two led to the downfall of wilderness as a sacred place when the Europeans habitus won out.
Kiara Girkins Defining Habitus
Kiara Girkins- Response to Anthony King’s “Thinking with Bourdieu against Bourdieu”
April 14, 2008
Habitus is a complex concept, but in its simplest usage could be understood as a set of acquired patterns of thought, behavior, and taste, (Habitus). Aristotle first explored the idea of habitus in relation to philosophy believing that habitus is a philosophical notion as it relates to thought and state of mind, (Habitus). By this Aristotle meant that habitus is based upon the way one perceives their surroundings and believes they should interact with it. Marcel Mauss later defined habitus as “body techniques,” which are the aspects of culture that are anchored in the body or daily practices of individuals, groups, societies and nations, (Habitus). Habitus explores the totality of learned habits, bodily skills, styles, tastes and other “non-discursive” knowledge, (Habitus). Such “body techniques” may differ between cultures, even if they live within the same habitat. Pierre Bourdieu is one of the latest thinkers to re-construct the idea of habitus. Bourdieu set out to include a person’s beliefs and dispositions in the definition of habitus. In other words, factors such as religion and morals are greatly influential when constructing one’s habitus. These dispositions include the ideas of perception, thought and action as they are developed by external factors, including family and education. Sociologist, Anthony King of the University of Exeter, says in reference to Bourdieu’s theory that,“The habitus which consists of corporal dispositions and cognitive templates overcomes subject-object dualism by inscribing subjective, bodily actions with objective social force so that the most apparently subjective individual acts take on social meaning,” (King, pg. 417). Such insight into habitus provides reasoning behind why differing cultures can live so differently on the same land.
Anthony King (200). “Thinking with Bourdieu against Bourdieu: A 'Practical' Critique of the Habitus,” Sociological Theory, Vol. 18, No. 3, (November 2000), pg. 417-433. Published by the American Sociological Association.
"Habitus" Retrieved from the World Wide Web: http://www.wikipedia.habitus.com.
April 14, 2008
Habitus is a complex concept, but in its simplest usage could be understood as a set of acquired patterns of thought, behavior, and taste, (Habitus). Aristotle first explored the idea of habitus in relation to philosophy believing that habitus is a philosophical notion as it relates to thought and state of mind, (Habitus). By this Aristotle meant that habitus is based upon the way one perceives their surroundings and believes they should interact with it. Marcel Mauss later defined habitus as “body techniques,” which are the aspects of culture that are anchored in the body or daily practices of individuals, groups, societies and nations, (Habitus). Habitus explores the totality of learned habits, bodily skills, styles, tastes and other “non-discursive” knowledge, (Habitus). Such “body techniques” may differ between cultures, even if they live within the same habitat. Pierre Bourdieu is one of the latest thinkers to re-construct the idea of habitus. Bourdieu set out to include a person’s beliefs and dispositions in the definition of habitus. In other words, factors such as religion and morals are greatly influential when constructing one’s habitus. These dispositions include the ideas of perception, thought and action as they are developed by external factors, including family and education. Sociologist, Anthony King of the University of Exeter, says in reference to Bourdieu’s theory that,“The habitus which consists of corporal dispositions and cognitive templates overcomes subject-object dualism by inscribing subjective, bodily actions with objective social force so that the most apparently subjective individual acts take on social meaning,” (King, pg. 417). Such insight into habitus provides reasoning behind why differing cultures can live so differently on the same land.
Anthony King (200). “Thinking with Bourdieu against Bourdieu: A 'Practical' Critique of the Habitus,” Sociological Theory, Vol. 18, No. 3, (November 2000), pg. 417-433. Published by the American Sociological Association.
"Habitus" Retrieved from the World Wide Web: http://www.wikipedia.habitus.com.
Kiara Girkins Response to Stephen M. Schnell
Kiara Girkins- Response to Stephen M. Schnell
April 28, 2008
The Native American culture is greatly tied to land and nature, and their religious beliefs often showcase such connections. Native Americans view land as a living entity, not something that can be permanently owned by any living creature, (Gulliford). Geologist Steven M. Schnell explores this idea by quoting fellow Geologist Yi-Fu Tuan saying,
“Landscape is personal and tribal history made visible; the native’s identity- his place in the total scheme of things- is not in doubt, because the myths that support it are as real as the rocks and waterholes that he can see and touch. He finds recorded in this land the ancient story of the lives and deeds of the immortal beings from whom he himself is descended, and whom he reveres. The whole countryside is his family tree,” (Schnell, pg. 156).
Wilderness to Native Americans was, and still is, a large part of everyday life. Learning to live off the land was essential, and being able to coexist peacefully with the wilderness was crucial to survival. It is because of this very reason that we can understand why Native Americans found their sacred places to be within the wilderness, which for them was the very thing that sustained life. Every scrap of what they took from the earth was utilized with very minimal waste. Fish provided not only food, but their small bones were perfect for making sewing needles. Bones and rocks we used to make tools, and the skin of animals was turned into shelter or clothing. Native Americans were highly skilled at working the land.
Many of the spiritual rituals were directly tied to the land as well. Native Americans worshiped the “spirits” of their surroundings. The various entities of the wilderness provided for spiritual enlightenment, which then led to the development of various wilderness locations as sacred places. The idea that earth is the mother, and people are its children is found in the religious ideologies of numerous tribes throughout what is now the United States. Pasha Spa in the Black Hills of South Dakota was considered sacred by the Lakota tribe as their creation myth revolves around the cave, believing that humans, buffalo and other creatures first stepped out onto earth from this cave. The cave makes a unique “whistling” noise as it sucks air in and out due to air pressure. The cave was the first ever to be named a national park, (Shick). In addition, they constructed the Big Horn Medicine wheel between 1200 and 1500 A.D., which was utilized for medicinal and teaching purposes. Fortunately, the medicine wheel and the geysers are now protected by national law; however, many Native American sacred places were not so lucky. When the European settlers arrived in the Americas, they took over the land once utilized and worshiped by the Native Americans. Their conflicting beliefs over the ability to own land or not led to many battles fought in order to defend their particular habitus, and therefore, way of life. Many of the Native Americans’ sacred places were destroyed in the process. An example of such being the sacred lands of the Haskell Indians in South Lawrence, Kansas that have been overtaken by the State Government and turn into what is now known as the “South Lawrence Trafficway.” This initiative has single handedly destroyed these ancient sacred lands, including ancient burial grounds, a medicine wheel and sweat lodge, (Martin). Another problem lies in the fact that a large portion of the locations of Native American sacred places are kept secret within the tribes, which has prevented many to be protected by National law, (Gulliford). In Gary Snyder’s Practice of the Wild, he speaks of such strict preservation of tradition saying,
“To well-meaning sympathetic white people this response is almost comprehensible. In the world of [Native American] people, never over-populated, rich in acorn, deer, salmon, and flicker feathers, to cleave to such purity, to be perfectionists about matters of family or clan, were affordable luxuries…a matter of keeping their dignity, their pride, and their own ways,” (Snyder, pg. 4).
Such pride over traditions and sacredness may be incomprehensible to some, but to many, Native Americans’ secrecy is the only way to truly preserve such places. Many of the secrets of their various tribes largely help to define who they are, and as such, secrecy is the only measure that can be taken to guarantee to some degree, however small, the preservation of their habitus. Several other famous Native American sacred places include the Devil's Tower National Monument, Mount Shasta in California, Mount Graham in Arizona, and the Sweet Grass Hills in Montana
Stephen M Schnell (2000). “The Kiowa Homeland in Okalahoma,” Geographical Review, Vol. 90, No. 2, (April 2000), pg. 155-176. Published by The American Geographical Society.
April 28, 2008
The Native American culture is greatly tied to land and nature, and their religious beliefs often showcase such connections. Native Americans view land as a living entity, not something that can be permanently owned by any living creature, (Gulliford). Geologist Steven M. Schnell explores this idea by quoting fellow Geologist Yi-Fu Tuan saying,
“Landscape is personal and tribal history made visible; the native’s identity- his place in the total scheme of things- is not in doubt, because the myths that support it are as real as the rocks and waterholes that he can see and touch. He finds recorded in this land the ancient story of the lives and deeds of the immortal beings from whom he himself is descended, and whom he reveres. The whole countryside is his family tree,” (Schnell, pg. 156).
Wilderness to Native Americans was, and still is, a large part of everyday life. Learning to live off the land was essential, and being able to coexist peacefully with the wilderness was crucial to survival. It is because of this very reason that we can understand why Native Americans found their sacred places to be within the wilderness, which for them was the very thing that sustained life. Every scrap of what they took from the earth was utilized with very minimal waste. Fish provided not only food, but their small bones were perfect for making sewing needles. Bones and rocks we used to make tools, and the skin of animals was turned into shelter or clothing. Native Americans were highly skilled at working the land.
Many of the spiritual rituals were directly tied to the land as well. Native Americans worshiped the “spirits” of their surroundings. The various entities of the wilderness provided for spiritual enlightenment, which then led to the development of various wilderness locations as sacred places. The idea that earth is the mother, and people are its children is found in the religious ideologies of numerous tribes throughout what is now the United States. Pasha Spa in the Black Hills of South Dakota was considered sacred by the Lakota tribe as their creation myth revolves around the cave, believing that humans, buffalo and other creatures first stepped out onto earth from this cave. The cave makes a unique “whistling” noise as it sucks air in and out due to air pressure. The cave was the first ever to be named a national park, (Shick). In addition, they constructed the Big Horn Medicine wheel between 1200 and 1500 A.D., which was utilized for medicinal and teaching purposes. Fortunately, the medicine wheel and the geysers are now protected by national law; however, many Native American sacred places were not so lucky. When the European settlers arrived in the Americas, they took over the land once utilized and worshiped by the Native Americans. Their conflicting beliefs over the ability to own land or not led to many battles fought in order to defend their particular habitus, and therefore, way of life. Many of the Native Americans’ sacred places were destroyed in the process. An example of such being the sacred lands of the Haskell Indians in South Lawrence, Kansas that have been overtaken by the State Government and turn into what is now known as the “South Lawrence Trafficway.” This initiative has single handedly destroyed these ancient sacred lands, including ancient burial grounds, a medicine wheel and sweat lodge, (Martin). Another problem lies in the fact that a large portion of the locations of Native American sacred places are kept secret within the tribes, which has prevented many to be protected by National law, (Gulliford). In Gary Snyder’s Practice of the Wild, he speaks of such strict preservation of tradition saying,
“To well-meaning sympathetic white people this response is almost comprehensible. In the world of [Native American] people, never over-populated, rich in acorn, deer, salmon, and flicker feathers, to cleave to such purity, to be perfectionists about matters of family or clan, were affordable luxuries…a matter of keeping their dignity, their pride, and their own ways,” (Snyder, pg. 4).
Such pride over traditions and sacredness may be incomprehensible to some, but to many, Native Americans’ secrecy is the only way to truly preserve such places. Many of the secrets of their various tribes largely help to define who they are, and as such, secrecy is the only measure that can be taken to guarantee to some degree, however small, the preservation of their habitus. Several other famous Native American sacred places include the Devil's Tower National Monument, Mount Shasta in California, Mount Graham in Arizona, and the Sweet Grass Hills in Montana
Stephen M Schnell (2000). “The Kiowa Homeland in Okalahoma,” Geographical Review, Vol. 90, No. 2, (April 2000), pg. 155-176. Published by The American Geographical Society.
Kiara Girkins European Settlers
Kiara Girkins- European Settlers
February 28, 2008
European Settlers came to the Americas in pursuit of religious freedom, they did not, however, come with the notion to preserve the natives’ religious practices. For European settlers, sacred places were not tied to nature or wilderness; they were rooted in their everyday atmospheres, such as churches, homes and even specific rooms in ones own home. For many of the settlers, wilderness was viewed merely as an obstacle, not a divine gift tied to a higher power. The unknown was not useful to them; the wilderness had to be tamed. The European settlers mindset largely hindered their ability to sympathize with the Native Americans as they only saw America as untamed territory. Finding rhyme and reason for the extraordinary was important as they were not religiously invested in the wilderness. This idea can be seen in George Caleb Bingham’s famous painting, Daniel Boone Escorting Settlers Through the Cumberland Gap, according to Anne F. Hyde as the painting depicts a skewed view of what America looked like before European settlers arrived. Hyde says that the picture illustrated a land that was completely wild and uninhibited and unexplored saying,
“This concept of a blank wilderness, long challenged by scholars but powerfully supported by popular culture and national ideology, allows for a telling of western history that centers on the American nation as discoverer and developer,” (Hyde).
The truth, however, remains that this so called “blank wilderness” did not exist, but rather was land preserved in a way that was unfamiliar to Europeans, but was the foundation of the Native American culture. Unfortunately the former mindset has continued on, passing from generation to generation.
Anne F Hyde (2005). The Disadvantages of Hindsight: A Re-Reading of the Early American West. Magazine of History, 19(6), 7-11. Retrieved February 26, 2008, from Research Library database. (Document ID: 990500581).
February 28, 2008
European Settlers came to the Americas in pursuit of religious freedom, they did not, however, come with the notion to preserve the natives’ religious practices. For European settlers, sacred places were not tied to nature or wilderness; they were rooted in their everyday atmospheres, such as churches, homes and even specific rooms in ones own home. For many of the settlers, wilderness was viewed merely as an obstacle, not a divine gift tied to a higher power. The unknown was not useful to them; the wilderness had to be tamed. The European settlers mindset largely hindered their ability to sympathize with the Native Americans as they only saw America as untamed territory. Finding rhyme and reason for the extraordinary was important as they were not religiously invested in the wilderness. This idea can be seen in George Caleb Bingham’s famous painting, Daniel Boone Escorting Settlers Through the Cumberland Gap, according to Anne F. Hyde as the painting depicts a skewed view of what America looked like before European settlers arrived. Hyde says that the picture illustrated a land that was completely wild and uninhibited and unexplored saying,
“This concept of a blank wilderness, long challenged by scholars but powerfully supported by popular culture and national ideology, allows for a telling of western history that centers on the American nation as discoverer and developer,” (Hyde).
The truth, however, remains that this so called “blank wilderness” did not exist, but rather was land preserved in a way that was unfamiliar to Europeans, but was the foundation of the Native American culture. Unfortunately the former mindset has continued on, passing from generation to generation.
Anne F Hyde (2005). The Disadvantages of Hindsight: A Re-Reading of the Early American West. Magazine of History, 19(6), 7-11. Retrieved February 26, 2008, from Research Library database. (Document ID: 990500581).
Kiara Girkins Vatican City
February 4, 2008
Since the beginning of time it has been human instinct to find spiritual enlightenment in regards to life and why and how we are here. Naturally, humans began seeking out sanctuaries where they could worship and act out religious traditions. These sacred places provide us with a location in which we can be more closely connected with our spiritual divinities. The Vatican City has become one such sacred place and the Axis Mundi for Catholicism. It has served the Christian world as a holy city for centuries, encouraging many to make a pilgrimage to its streets believing it to be a place where they can be closest to God.
The Vatican City has for centuries been a sacred destination. Even before the arrival of Christianity the area now known as Vatican City was thought to be sacred, and was the place of worship of the Phrygian Goddess Cybele and her consort Attis during Roman times. (Vatican City). In the early first century, Agrippina the Elder took over the former holy lands as a site for her gardens. The land continued to switch hands until the great fire of Rome in 64 A.D. when it became the site of martyrdom for a large population of Christians. It is thought that St. Peter was crucified upside down in the center of what is now known as St. Peter’s square. Catholic apologists and noted Italian archeologists have argued that the site of the Constantinian basilica built in 326 A.D., now know as St. Peter’s Basilica, was built on top of the burial grounds of St. Peter himself. The Vatican City quickly became the center of Catholic teaching, and on February 11, 1929, with the Lateran treaty, the city gained its independence from Italy, becoming the smallest independent state in the world. (Vatican City). The Vatican City’s St. Peter’s Basilica and the Sistine Chapel are homes to works of art by the famous Botticelli, Bernini and Michelangelo. Its library and museums host numerous historical artifacts dating back to the first century. In 1984, the Vatican City was added to the list of World Heritage Sites by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). (Vatican City). As the home of the Pope, and many of the top leaders of the Catholic Church, and as site of such significant Christian history, it has become one of the most recognized sacred places in the world.
The Latin term, Axis Mundi, means the axis of the world, and is often used to describe a sacred place. It is the mythical point of connection between heaven and earth. (Axis Mundi). For Catholicism, the Vatican City has become that point. As a whole nation dedicated purely to the practice of Catholicism, it serves as one of the most sacred places for Catholic believers. All decisions concerning the Catholic Church are made from within its gates, providing it religious control over the entire world’s Catholic followers. Historically, the Romans controlled a large majority of Europe and considered themselves to be the center of the world. As Constantine began to take over and spread Christianity throughout Europe, Rome became the center for the Christian church, and has continued to stay as such. This centralism has enabled the Vatican City to serve as the Axis Mundi for the Catholic Church.
With the Vatican City being of such significance to the Catholic Church, and of such historical importance, it is comes as no surprise that more than twenty-five million people visit each year. (Vatican City). Such a pilgrimage can be seen as essential in one’s spiritual growth as a Catholic because of the city’s importance to the church, as well as its historical importance to Christian heritage. The territory of the Vatican City is part of the Mons Vaticanus, and of the adjacent former Vatican Fields which house St. Peter’s Basilica, the Apostolic Palace and the Sistine Chapel. These venues serve as an important connection between historic and modern day Christianity, making them all the more appealing to travel to. While it is not mandatory for Catholic followers to make a pilgrimage to the Vatican City, it is highly desirable for its followers because of its historical significance. In Annie Dillard’s, “The Writing Life,” from her book Three, she says in reference to surroundings one should write it, “Appealing workplaces are to be avoided. One wants a room with no view, so imagination can meet memory in the dark.” (Dillard, pg. 564). The reason for this is because a writer must draw on past experiences and memories to write a great book. However, when one wants to learn more, and experience new things, they must travel out and seek them. It is this idea that encourages so many to make such pilgrimages.
In Gary Snyder’s Practice of the Wild, he refers to the supernatural as being events, “described often enough to make them continue to be intriguing and, for some, credible.” (Snyder, pg. 9). This idea of the “supernatural” and its reoccurring presence in a sacred place encourages believers to seek them out so that they may experience these events as well. It is this communication with transcendent beings within sacred places that is of deepest significance to the spiritual well-being of individuals. While Catholics believe that they may communicate with God in any place at any time, the idea of doing so in the presence of such holy lands is far more exciting, and therefore desirable. To be able to attend a service at St. Peter’s Basilica in the presence of such important church officials, and to pray on the grounds in which some of Christ’s disciples walked, truly enhances the connection one feels to God, and as such, makes one believe that their communication with God is enhanced.
The Vatican City has become one of the most significant and recognized sacred places in the world, and has served as an essential part of the Catholic Church. It is a sanctuary for those seeking refuge from a Godless culture, and a reminder of the history of Christianity. The center of the Catholic Church, it is the home to some of the most fundamental and influential religious leaders in the world today. Its historical connection serves as reason for its exploration, and its significance to the Catholic religion provides a feeling of heightened communication with God.
Since the beginning of time it has been human instinct to find spiritual enlightenment in regards to life and why and how we are here. Naturally, humans began seeking out sanctuaries where they could worship and act out religious traditions. These sacred places provide us with a location in which we can be more closely connected with our spiritual divinities. The Vatican City has become one such sacred place and the Axis Mundi for Catholicism. It has served the Christian world as a holy city for centuries, encouraging many to make a pilgrimage to its streets believing it to be a place where they can be closest to God.
The Vatican City has for centuries been a sacred destination. Even before the arrival of Christianity the area now known as Vatican City was thought to be sacred, and was the place of worship of the Phrygian Goddess Cybele and her consort Attis during Roman times. (Vatican City). In the early first century, Agrippina the Elder took over the former holy lands as a site for her gardens. The land continued to switch hands until the great fire of Rome in 64 A.D. when it became the site of martyrdom for a large population of Christians. It is thought that St. Peter was crucified upside down in the center of what is now known as St. Peter’s square. Catholic apologists and noted Italian archeologists have argued that the site of the Constantinian basilica built in 326 A.D., now know as St. Peter’s Basilica, was built on top of the burial grounds of St. Peter himself. The Vatican City quickly became the center of Catholic teaching, and on February 11, 1929, with the Lateran treaty, the city gained its independence from Italy, becoming the smallest independent state in the world. (Vatican City). The Vatican City’s St. Peter’s Basilica and the Sistine Chapel are homes to works of art by the famous Botticelli, Bernini and Michelangelo. Its library and museums host numerous historical artifacts dating back to the first century. In 1984, the Vatican City was added to the list of World Heritage Sites by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). (Vatican City). As the home of the Pope, and many of the top leaders of the Catholic Church, and as site of such significant Christian history, it has become one of the most recognized sacred places in the world.
The Latin term, Axis Mundi, means the axis of the world, and is often used to describe a sacred place. It is the mythical point of connection between heaven and earth. (Axis Mundi). For Catholicism, the Vatican City has become that point. As a whole nation dedicated purely to the practice of Catholicism, it serves as one of the most sacred places for Catholic believers. All decisions concerning the Catholic Church are made from within its gates, providing it religious control over the entire world’s Catholic followers. Historically, the Romans controlled a large majority of Europe and considered themselves to be the center of the world. As Constantine began to take over and spread Christianity throughout Europe, Rome became the center for the Christian church, and has continued to stay as such. This centralism has enabled the Vatican City to serve as the Axis Mundi for the Catholic Church.
With the Vatican City being of such significance to the Catholic Church, and of such historical importance, it is comes as no surprise that more than twenty-five million people visit each year. (Vatican City). Such a pilgrimage can be seen as essential in one’s spiritual growth as a Catholic because of the city’s importance to the church, as well as its historical importance to Christian heritage. The territory of the Vatican City is part of the Mons Vaticanus, and of the adjacent former Vatican Fields which house St. Peter’s Basilica, the Apostolic Palace and the Sistine Chapel. These venues serve as an important connection between historic and modern day Christianity, making them all the more appealing to travel to. While it is not mandatory for Catholic followers to make a pilgrimage to the Vatican City, it is highly desirable for its followers because of its historical significance. In Annie Dillard’s, “The Writing Life,” from her book Three, she says in reference to surroundings one should write it, “Appealing workplaces are to be avoided. One wants a room with no view, so imagination can meet memory in the dark.” (Dillard, pg. 564). The reason for this is because a writer must draw on past experiences and memories to write a great book. However, when one wants to learn more, and experience new things, they must travel out and seek them. It is this idea that encourages so many to make such pilgrimages.
In Gary Snyder’s Practice of the Wild, he refers to the supernatural as being events, “described often enough to make them continue to be intriguing and, for some, credible.” (Snyder, pg. 9). This idea of the “supernatural” and its reoccurring presence in a sacred place encourages believers to seek them out so that they may experience these events as well. It is this communication with transcendent beings within sacred places that is of deepest significance to the spiritual well-being of individuals. While Catholics believe that they may communicate with God in any place at any time, the idea of doing so in the presence of such holy lands is far more exciting, and therefore desirable. To be able to attend a service at St. Peter’s Basilica in the presence of such important church officials, and to pray on the grounds in which some of Christ’s disciples walked, truly enhances the connection one feels to God, and as such, makes one believe that their communication with God is enhanced.
The Vatican City has become one of the most significant and recognized sacred places in the world, and has served as an essential part of the Catholic Church. It is a sanctuary for those seeking refuge from a Godless culture, and a reminder of the history of Christianity. The center of the Catholic Church, it is the home to some of the most fundamental and influential religious leaders in the world today. Its historical connection serves as reason for its exploration, and its significance to the Catholic religion provides a feeling of heightened communication with God.
Kiara Girkins Lions Bridge
When you are analyzing your surroundings, most people look for the minute details of every individual entity surrounding them. I, however, found myself immersed not in the details of my surroundings at Lion’s Bridge, but rather the connection I felt to the landscape and the world at whole. I sat down on the trunk of an oddly shaped tree that stretched from the shore out a short bit over the water. This spot is one of my favorite places to sit when I venture down to the river. I supposed this is mostly because I am rather more secluded from any other human interaction, but more importantly because I can look out onto a stretch of water that reaches beyond what I can see. Such a view makes me realize how much more to this world there is than this shoreline, than Christopher Newport University, than Newport News, than Virginia, than the entire United States of America. I love this feeling mostly because I am not only realizing how great God is, but how connected I am to him.
The world can seem so large and at other times so small, but when I am sitting on that tree and looking out over the shore towards a world of unknown cultures and landscapes, I know that there is someone on the opposite shore looking back and wondering what or who is looking back at them. It may not be at that very moment, but certainly there has been a time, and for that moment in which we seek each other’s existence, we are connected. On page 29, Annie Dillard says, “What I see sets me swaying. Size and distance and the sudden swelling of meanings confuses me, bowl me over.” This connection is more than just between myself and another human; it is between myself, my surroundings and a distant wilderness. Such a connection is only furthered by the thought that the same God that created me, created the tree that I am sitting on, the shoreline I have walked, and the body of water that connects me to the foreign entities looking back, and I realize how much stake the nature of this world has in my personal spirituality. Annie Dillard says it beautifully on page 20, “The sight has the appeal of the purely passive, like the racing of light under clouds on a field, the beautiful dream at the moment of being dreamed. The breeze is the merest puff, but you yourself sail headlong and breathless under the gale force of the spirit.” That moment of connectivity may not last forever, and is certainly most meaningful during its existence; however, it will continue to drive you with its spirit.
So when I look out onto the shores of the James River, I can hear myself being told that I am merely a piece of a much larger, and far more detailed picture than of that which surrounds me at the moment. The river itself singing with every lapping sound that it reaches far more than just me and this bit of shore. And as I get up to leave and take one last look at the river and then the tree that continually provides me with such a welcoming place to rest, I cant help but wonder that it, too, knows there is something more beyond the shore it reaches from, and that its bizarre stature is actually the tree just trying to get a better view off what lies beyond the horizon.
The world can seem so large and at other times so small, but when I am sitting on that tree and looking out over the shore towards a world of unknown cultures and landscapes, I know that there is someone on the opposite shore looking back and wondering what or who is looking back at them. It may not be at that very moment, but certainly there has been a time, and for that moment in which we seek each other’s existence, we are connected. On page 29, Annie Dillard says, “What I see sets me swaying. Size and distance and the sudden swelling of meanings confuses me, bowl me over.” This connection is more than just between myself and another human; it is between myself, my surroundings and a distant wilderness. Such a connection is only furthered by the thought that the same God that created me, created the tree that I am sitting on, the shoreline I have walked, and the body of water that connects me to the foreign entities looking back, and I realize how much stake the nature of this world has in my personal spirituality. Annie Dillard says it beautifully on page 20, “The sight has the appeal of the purely passive, like the racing of light under clouds on a field, the beautiful dream at the moment of being dreamed. The breeze is the merest puff, but you yourself sail headlong and breathless under the gale force of the spirit.” That moment of connectivity may not last forever, and is certainly most meaningful during its existence; however, it will continue to drive you with its spirit.
So when I look out onto the shores of the James River, I can hear myself being told that I am merely a piece of a much larger, and far more detailed picture than of that which surrounds me at the moment. The river itself singing with every lapping sound that it reaches far more than just me and this bit of shore. And as I get up to leave and take one last look at the river and then the tree that continually provides me with such a welcoming place to rest, I cant help but wonder that it, too, knows there is something more beyond the shore it reaches from, and that its bizarre stature is actually the tree just trying to get a better view off what lies beyond the horizon.
Kiara Girkins Snyder Response 2
In Gary Snyder’s passage on page 87 he says that the, “connection of religion to land, however, has been resisted by the dominant culture and the courts. This ancient aspect of religious worship remains virtually incomprehensible to Euro-Americans.” I believe this statement to be completely inaccurate and not to mention ignorant. If Euro-Americans have no conception of connecting religion to land, then how can he explain the extremely popular desire Euro-Americans often have to go hiking or any other outdoor activity simply to be closer to nature, and to be spiritually enlightened? To say Euro-Americans find this connection to be incomprehensible is absurd. Euro-Americans may not have traditionally had their religious views centered around land and wilderness, but that does not mean they cannot understand the significance of it. Examples can be found in nearly every common Euro-American religion that convey the significance of the connection between religion and landscape. The idea of creation itself is an example as God created everything, including wilderness, and saw that it was “good.” Moses was in direct connection with God in the desert with the burning bush, another significant example. You see, it is often in the wilderness that people feel most directly connected to God because they are no longer in control, this include Euro-Americans. So while the worship of land itself may not be at the forefront of typical Euro-American religion, the idea of understanding its connection to religion is by no means incomprehensible.
Every person, culture and religion utilizes the land in different ways. To say one is more correct, or is better than another is impossible and unsupportable. And to say that it is incomprehensible is to say that European Americans have never experienced wilderness in a way that is spiritual, which is an impossibly bold thing to say.
Every person, culture and religion utilizes the land in different ways. To say one is more correct, or is better than another is impossible and unsupportable. And to say that it is incomprehensible is to say that European Americans have never experienced wilderness in a way that is spiritual, which is an impossibly bold thing to say.
Kiara Girkins Snyder Response 1
On page 95, in reference to the Japanese way of conserving sacred places, Gary Snyder says, “But such compartmentalization is not healthy: in this patriarchal model some land is saved, like the virgin priestess, some is overworked endlessly, like a wife, and some is brutally publicly reshaped, like an exuberant girl declared promiscuous and punished. Good, wild, and sacred couldn’t be farther apart.” I like how Snyder connects this “compartmentalization” to a patriarchal ideals, it offers a clear, and often very true, idea of how humans view land. This idea of some land being saved and preserved because it is viewed as being pure and sacred can be seen all around the world. It is also no secret that much of the earth’s surface has been cultivated beyond saving, and some was not much appreciated from the beginning. However, my discontent with this statement lies in the question of how else do you do section off land? I understand that it is the notion of sectioning of land in general that he is dissuading against, but how can you not? There must be land that is used for agriculture, though certainly this can be done without destroying it, but you cannot avoid the need we have for land for living and farming. And as earth’s population continues to rise, the only way to ensure that some land is totally preserved is to section it off. I do not see a way around that however undesirable that may be. It is easy to question why we cannot live like people once did, so directly connected with nature, but this just simply is not possible because the world has far more people on it than it used to taking up far more space than it used to.
There are, however, ways in which we can preserve land from being permantly destroyed. Snyder says, “Doing horticulture, agriculture, or forestry with the grain rather than against it would be in the human interest and not just for the long run.” Gary Snyder is most certainly accurate with this statement. I mean, why try to fit a square peg into a round hole? Forcing nature to produce what is unnatural for itself can in no way help us in the long or short run. Just because a certain crop may be more profitable than another, you cannot try to force its production where it does not belong; You cannot grow oranges in open land in Michigan. Likewise, you cannot force a piece of land to produce more than it can support. Man kind would be far more productive if we stuck to producing what we’re best at producing. This economic theory of comparative advantage would not only benefit humanity in this next generation, but in generations to come. It’s like Snyder says, “What does mother nature do best when left to her own long strategies?” Though I cannot say myself, it might just be worth while enough to find out.
There are, however, ways in which we can preserve land from being permantly destroyed. Snyder says, “Doing horticulture, agriculture, or forestry with the grain rather than against it would be in the human interest and not just for the long run.” Gary Snyder is most certainly accurate with this statement. I mean, why try to fit a square peg into a round hole? Forcing nature to produce what is unnatural for itself can in no way help us in the long or short run. Just because a certain crop may be more profitable than another, you cannot try to force its production where it does not belong; You cannot grow oranges in open land in Michigan. Likewise, you cannot force a piece of land to produce more than it can support. Man kind would be far more productive if we stuck to producing what we’re best at producing. This economic theory of comparative advantage would not only benefit humanity in this next generation, but in generations to come. It’s like Snyder says, “What does mother nature do best when left to her own long strategies?” Though I cannot say myself, it might just be worth while enough to find out.
Keenan Lofton- Unsettling of America 1
At the beginning of chapter four in Wendell Berry’s book, The Unsettling of America, he gets into a discussion of how energy and religion are basically one in the same whether you like it or not. At first I was skeptical when I first heard Berry say this. But after reading further into the chapter and listening to his reasoning I came to understand the relation between energy and religion. This first thing Berry says is that religions bind us back to the source of life, and that energy is the only source of life. When analyzing what he says further in that religion can’t be destroyed and neither can energy, it can only be changed. This got me thinking even more and made me wonder if nature and energy are one in the same too? I came to the conclusion that nature and energy are not the same, but energy is required in nature. With out energy, nature cant be sensed or interact with. So energy is an important part of nature.
Abigail Thomas, 4 loves
To the effect of what C. S. Lewis says, “human mind prefers to praise or dispraise rather than to define and describe,” it seems that behavioral values replace descriptions. The value is taken as all the appreciator needs to know and perhaps is considered the essential description as it is. The essential sensation and pleasure of love is essentially all the appreciator needs for consideration.
There have been times when I step out of a building and the outside is great, the people are great, and I have a great warmth of good humor. In those moments all I know is a wonderful satisfaction of where I’m at, that’s all I know or feel. All I know I step outside and I’m heading to somewhere, and I know the journey just across campus will be beautiful, pleasant and thrilling. I’m not alone there are people all around me on a journey as well and most enjoying it as much as me. The stepping out into the great outdoors is a kind of release or relief. This morning I even saw a runway. The morning was the welcome to the anticipated new day and cycle(s). I was on the road that starts behind Potomac South and goes straight through past the York dorms, SU, the library and the Ferguson Center parking lot. From way back looking straight along that road from the Potomac end I can see the cars running over Warwick perpendicular with the road I’m on. It looks like a runway, I walk the road I’m on among the buildings to(wards) off-campus and beyond.
“Of course many natural objects—trees, flowers and animals—are beautiful...The man who is distracts them. An enthusiastic botanist is for them a dreadful companion on a ramble. He is always stopping to draw their attention to particulars.”
Some particulars are to be distracted by. I remember when I was little I watched the movie Antz, which was a kids animated film of a story with ants. There was a scene were the ants were on a picnic blanket and the ants were so small the ants were on a different perspective scale. The ants couldn’t really tell where they were or what was causing all the dangerous phenomenon (fly swatter and getting stuck in gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe) around them in comparison to the larger human perspective scale that could definitely comprehend the surroundings and causes. That scene and other scenes -- “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids,” “Magic School Bus” and “Men in Black” (the scene were the must be ginormous alien is playing with universe marbles and our universe is in one of those marbles) – made me think of how many size scales exist on earth alone among organism and their perspectives. From the tiniest bacteria to ants, to people, to whales in the great ocean. I was curious and would daydream about having Magic School Bus moments and wonder and try to figure out what would the world look like if I was the size of an ant or anything to that effect. Maybe when some of those distracting botanists are examining a particular of a plant, they are exercising their chigger-eye skills and trying to take in the great expansive view of a leaf. There could be fun water slides flowing down a leaf, and fascinating tiling and patterns of a leaf, or a horrific blank staring, black wholly face that belongs to a titan of a caterpillar that’s eating your playground leaf. It may be the small scale view and expanse of an ant but that leaf is not exactly a particular to be overlooked.
There have been times when I step out of a building and the outside is great, the people are great, and I have a great warmth of good humor. In those moments all I know is a wonderful satisfaction of where I’m at, that’s all I know or feel. All I know I step outside and I’m heading to somewhere, and I know the journey just across campus will be beautiful, pleasant and thrilling. I’m not alone there are people all around me on a journey as well and most enjoying it as much as me. The stepping out into the great outdoors is a kind of release or relief. This morning I even saw a runway. The morning was the welcome to the anticipated new day and cycle(s). I was on the road that starts behind Potomac South and goes straight through past the York dorms, SU, the library and the Ferguson Center parking lot. From way back looking straight along that road from the Potomac end I can see the cars running over Warwick perpendicular with the road I’m on. It looks like a runway, I walk the road I’m on among the buildings to(wards) off-campus and beyond.
“Of course many natural objects—trees, flowers and animals—are beautiful...The man who is distracts them. An enthusiastic botanist is for them a dreadful companion on a ramble. He is always stopping to draw their attention to particulars.”
Some particulars are to be distracted by. I remember when I was little I watched the movie Antz, which was a kids animated film of a story with ants. There was a scene were the ants were on a picnic blanket and the ants were so small the ants were on a different perspective scale. The ants couldn’t really tell where they were or what was causing all the dangerous phenomenon (fly swatter and getting stuck in gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe) around them in comparison to the larger human perspective scale that could definitely comprehend the surroundings and causes. That scene and other scenes -- “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids,” “Magic School Bus” and “Men in Black” (the scene were the must be ginormous alien is playing with universe marbles and our universe is in one of those marbles) – made me think of how many size scales exist on earth alone among organism and their perspectives. From the tiniest bacteria to ants, to people, to whales in the great ocean. I was curious and would daydream about having Magic School Bus moments and wonder and try to figure out what would the world look like if I was the size of an ant or anything to that effect. Maybe when some of those distracting botanists are examining a particular of a plant, they are exercising their chigger-eye skills and trying to take in the great expansive view of a leaf. There could be fun water slides flowing down a leaf, and fascinating tiling and patterns of a leaf, or a horrific blank staring, black wholly face that belongs to a titan of a caterpillar that’s eating your playground leaf. It may be the small scale view and expanse of an ant but that leaf is not exactly a particular to be overlooked.
Amanda DeSalme, class trip to Lion's Gate Bridge
I have noticed that everyone has chosen to talk about the class fieldtrip to the Lion's Gate Bridge for the required blog on an "encounter with a natural setting." I have been avoiding writing about this trip because embarassingly enough, I was not connecting with the Nolan Trail on this trip. It seemed almost contrived. I wanted to listen to nature and I have connected with this place on numerous occassions, but that particular day my soul and ears were not open. It is like in Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek when she mentions the moment you are conscious of your connection and presence in the moment, you lose the connection. This is how Dillard phrases it: "This is it, I think, this is it, right now, the present, this empty gas station, here, this western wind, this tang of coffee on the tongue, and I am patting the puppy, I am watching the mountain. And the second I verbalize this awareness in my brain, I cease to see the mountain or feel the puppy" (Dillard, 80). I believe this is why I was not connecting that day. I was too caught up in trying to connect, and converse with nature. Trying in a way that I blocked it from me. I would look too hard for things rather than letting things pop out at me and speak to me at their own will. I tried to force speech out of it all. Connecting with nature is just like trying to connect to God, you have to let things happen in his time, and keep an open heart. And of course, in my personal opinion, you can connect to God through nature. He created it afterall. All this extravagant beauty was created by some kind of powerful being. Listening to the creation is listening to the creator. So that is what I learned from the Nolan Trail that day. I can't force nature to speak to me. I have to let it speak on its own terms and just keep myself open for anything to happen.
Keenan Lofton-Dillard 2
When reading through Dillard’s text, I came across a paragraph on page 107-108 that talked about praying mantis eggs and how ants were trying to eat them but they were secure deeper in. This paragraph made me remember how one time I found a praying mantis egg sack in my back yard. When we got it, my mom just put it on the window seal. After a while we assumed that the eggs had already hatched due to how the egg sack looked. One day to our surprise there were hundreds of little praying mantises on our kitchen counter. When reading this it got me thinking about how we thought that nature was dead when it came to the egg sack. I figured there was no way that they weren’t already hatched. To my surprised I realized that nature can never be destroyed and that it is all around us if we look hard enough.
Keenan Lofton-Dillard 1
On page 13, of Three by Annie Dillard she talks about her experiences trying to scare frogs. Dillard talks about how elegantly the frogs jump away from danger. In describing this I made me remember times when I was younger and would try to catch frogs and tadpoles with my Dad and my Brother. Back when I was growing up there was this big nursery with ponds all over the place. I would try to catch frogs with my brother and I distinctly remember how the frogs would jump away so quick when it seemed like they couldn’t even see you. Unfortunately, that nursery no longer exists today and there are rows and rows of houses in its place.
Jared Free - "Wendell Berry, Unsetlling of America"
"One of the peculiarities of the white race's presence in America is how little intention has been applied to it. As a people, wherever we have been, we have never really intended to be. The continent is said to have been discovered by an Italian who was on his way to India. The earliest explorers were looking for gold, which was, after an early streak of luck in Mexico, always somewhere farther on. Conquests and foundings were incidental to this search = which did not, and could not, end until the continent was finally laid open in an orgy of gold seeking in the middle of the last century." I think Berry's reflections can be used to account for the way most Americans, or even people in general, interact with the environment. Everything we presently find ourselves immersed in, perhaps, seems like just a stepping stone to some on a path leading to something greater. These individuals may take advantage of the environment, abusing it and failing to recognize anything sacred because to them this is just temporary. They are seeking something farther down the road, what they are living in now is just the incidental. As such there is no reason to appreciate or respect their current landscape.
Jared Free - "Jagged Creek Nature Reserve"
On warm days I like to go across the James river bridge to hike along the river through the wildlife reserve on Isle of Wight. There's about a quarter mile stone trail, a quarter mile of boardwalk, then you can jump over the rail and hike uninhibited along the James. Trips have to be planned carefully, to account for the rising and receding tides and once the pattern is learned there is a great sense of pride in having a more intimate relationship with the river. There are usually a-lot of fishermen along the banks of the river, and its usually pleasant to interact with them and share our experiences with each other. Many of them, however, do not seem to have any concern for the environment itself. It's disturbing to see the things they leave behind, in bulk no less. Yards and yards of fishing line, empty beverage containers, the charred wood and bones of the fires they build on site to grill their catch. The first several hundred yards of shoreline, the fishermen find it too cumbersome to venture too far off the boardwalk, have nearly been destroyed by their laziness and lack of concern of respect for the environment. It's very troubling that with so much discussion of environmental protection and preservation some people cannot be troubled to help in preserving our increasingly rare open landscapes.
Jared Free - "Annie Dillard"
"But the artificial obvious is hard to see. My eyes account for less than one percent of the weight of my head; I'm bony and dense; I see what I expect. I once spent a full three minutes looking at a bullfrog that was so unexpectedly large I couldn't see it even though a dozen enthusiastic campers were shouting directions. I just can't see the artificial obvious that those in the know construct. The herpetologist asks the native, "Are there snakes in that ravine?" "Nosir." And the herpetologist comes home with, yessir, three bags full. Are there butterflies on that mountain? Are the bluets in bloom, are there arrowheads here, or fossil shells in the shale?" Dillard makes a great point that many things are overlooked by many people depending on their agenda or what they have become accustomed to seeing. One could infer from this that it is positive to experience nature with many other people; multiple eyes are better than one. On the other hand, I feel that if you experience nature on your own, you will eventually train your eyes to see everything there is to see; at the very least everything you need to see.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Amanda DeSalme, Thoreau: rain
From Henry David Thoreau's Walden:"Some of my pleasantest hours were during the long rain-storms in the spring or fall, which confined me to the house for the afternoon as well as the forenoon, soothed by their ceaseless roar and pelting; when an early twilight ushered in a long evening in which many thoughts had time to take root and unfold themselves" (Thoreau, 106).
I have always enjoyed the rain. Summer thunderstorms are also extremely exciting. When I was younger, I used to love reading scary books by candelight while a thunderstorm was going on. Even if the power stayed on, I would turn off the lights and read by candelight, because it was so natural and exciting. The calmer rain was also always very invigorating. Talk about a cleansing experience. As I grew older I still enjoyed the rain. I would sit outside on my porch, sheltered by a roof, and watch the rain- gathering thoughts, centering myself, and writing poetry, while catching a light mist on my face. Eventually, when I was done writing down my every observation, I would run out from under the roof of my porch and dance in the gushing, refreshing, downpour of rain. I frolicked and spun in circles, I skipped around my house noticing glossy leaves with droplets of rain trickling down stems and feel the sopping wet ground under my bare feet. I watched small rivers form in my yard and small waterfalls pour off of the roof of my house. I would comment on the color of the sky and the swirling clouds and the glittering droplets of water, splashing around in a sparkling river of joy. I would dance around outside like a lunatic just to enjoy nature's extravagant gush of a shower, until I was soaked to the bone, and then I would retreat inside to dry off and do some homework before bed. This beautiful experience was always the most refreshing one I could have, especially during stressful times. On days when I felt melancholy or just wanted to write, I would hope for rain. On days that I needed to let loose and frolick, I hoped for rain. I have written in a previous blog about the beauty of water, but I did not mention the joy of rain. The musical pitterpatter or louder rushing roar of a harder rain always bring happiness to my ears. It calls me to contemplate or reflect on life. It calls me to dance in it, to wash my artificial life away in a downpour from mother nature. It calls me to listen.
Amanda DeSalme, Thoreau: birds
5-2-2008
From Henry David Thoreau’s Walden:
“Regularly at half-past seven, in one part of the summer, after the evening train had gone by, the whip-poor-wills chanted their vespers for half an hour, sitting on a stump by my door, or upon the ridge-pole of the house. They would begin to sing almost with as much precision as a clock, within five minutes of a particular time, referred to the setting of the sun, every evening” (Thoreau, 99).
In this passage, Thoreau starts a lovely prosaic passage about the sounds of different kinds of birds that he has observed. It reminds me of Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek when she contemplates why birds sing, or why their singing is beautiful. One of my favorite things to hear is the song of a bird. It puts me in such a cheery mood in the morning if I wake up to the warbling chirp of birds outside my window, and I listen to them as I walk outside on my way to do whatever I need to do that day. It is such a free song that birds sing. I don’t even know how I would notate it, and that makes it even more beautiful. Being a music nerd, I like to listen to music and pay attention to the way if makes me feel, rather than each particular note or rhythm or technical aspect of it. And the music of the birds always evokes in me pure joy and optimism. I also enjoy the mellow hoot of owls at night. In one of my previous blogs, I wrote about the magical mystery of nighttime. I failed to mention the marvelous hoot of the owl, a grand excitement to me and my sister when we were children. My father would whisper “listen! There’s an owl nearby!” And my sister and I would plunge into silence and listen intently in awe and wonder of the beautiful mysterious night. The sound came straight out of darkness, and I would try to picture in my mind the slick feathers and wide eyes of the owl, perched on a branch somewhere over our heads. It had so much power over us. The song of an owl is a more melancholy song than that of the morning birds, but beautiful all the same. Thoreau describes it wonderfully: “Yet I love to hear their wailing, their doleful responses, trilled along the woodside; reminding me sometimes of music and singing birds; as if it were the dark and tearful side of music, the regrets and sighs that would fain be sung” (Thoreau, 99-100). Listening to the music of nature is one of the greatest things I have learned from my father. He always pointed out the cicadas and the crickets and the owls and the wind…those sounds have such a comforting effect on me now, since I connect them to these bonding times with my sister and father. It is interesting how the things I love most about nature are connected somehow to childhood memories. I think that is part of the reason why I love those aspects of nature so much. Those euphoric memories create comfort whenever I encounter the same aspects of nature. It is grounding and calming and de-stressifying. And I love it.
From Henry David Thoreau’s Walden:
“Regularly at half-past seven, in one part of the summer, after the evening train had gone by, the whip-poor-wills chanted their vespers for half an hour, sitting on a stump by my door, or upon the ridge-pole of the house. They would begin to sing almost with as much precision as a clock, within five minutes of a particular time, referred to the setting of the sun, every evening” (Thoreau, 99).
In this passage, Thoreau starts a lovely prosaic passage about the sounds of different kinds of birds that he has observed. It reminds me of Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek when she contemplates why birds sing, or why their singing is beautiful. One of my favorite things to hear is the song of a bird. It puts me in such a cheery mood in the morning if I wake up to the warbling chirp of birds outside my window, and I listen to them as I walk outside on my way to do whatever I need to do that day. It is such a free song that birds sing. I don’t even know how I would notate it, and that makes it even more beautiful. Being a music nerd, I like to listen to music and pay attention to the way if makes me feel, rather than each particular note or rhythm or technical aspect of it. And the music of the birds always evokes in me pure joy and optimism. I also enjoy the mellow hoot of owls at night. In one of my previous blogs, I wrote about the magical mystery of nighttime. I failed to mention the marvelous hoot of the owl, a grand excitement to me and my sister when we were children. My father would whisper “listen! There’s an owl nearby!” And my sister and I would plunge into silence and listen intently in awe and wonder of the beautiful mysterious night. The sound came straight out of darkness, and I would try to picture in my mind the slick feathers and wide eyes of the owl, perched on a branch somewhere over our heads. It had so much power over us. The song of an owl is a more melancholy song than that of the morning birds, but beautiful all the same. Thoreau describes it wonderfully: “Yet I love to hear their wailing, their doleful responses, trilled along the woodside; reminding me sometimes of music and singing birds; as if it were the dark and tearful side of music, the regrets and sighs that would fain be sung” (Thoreau, 99-100). Listening to the music of nature is one of the greatest things I have learned from my father. He always pointed out the cicadas and the crickets and the owls and the wind…those sounds have such a comforting effect on me now, since I connect them to these bonding times with my sister and father. It is interesting how the things I love most about nature are connected somehow to childhood memories. I think that is part of the reason why I love those aspects of nature so much. Those euphoric memories create comfort whenever I encounter the same aspects of nature. It is grounding and calming and de-stressifying. And I love it.
Jared Free - "Extremes In Nature"
I have always enjoyed weather. By weather I mean rain, snow, sleet; the elements that fall from the sky essentially. One of my greatest thrills every summer is watching a big storm roll in. Everything in nature seems to get involved in the act. A sudden drop in temperature is proceeding by gradually increasing winds. As the sky darkens and day turns to night the leaves begin to turn over; creating a contrast between their lighter undersides and the dark sky that is one of a kind. When the rain, wind, lighting, and thunder are all rolled into one sometimes I'm lucky enough that the power is knocked out; making sitting and enjoying the storm roll through the only thing there is to do, and I'm always happy to participate. The situation is similar in the winter. Instead of absolute darkness the sky turns to gray. You can actually see the front roll in, and when the first flakes begin to fall predictions about accumulation begin to fly; wagers are made, and the anticipation of school being closed the following day is a thrill that cannot be duplicated. As exciting and enjoyable as the strongest storms are, the trivial ones are just as miserable. A slight drizzle, or a few flurries that melt on contact but seem to last for hours makes for a miserable day. So it is the extremes, the upper, not the lower, in weather that I enjoy the most.
Jared Free - "Annie Dillard"
In Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, the first of Dillard's three stories, she describes an experience she had while walking along the creek one morning. Dillard reflects that she often tried to spot the more elusive animals that could be found along the creek, the ones that would often flee at the sound of her approach. One morning she found a frog, and was surprised that it did not jump even as she crept to within four feet; something else happened though. "And just as I looked at him, he slowly crumpled and began to sag. The spirit vanished from hie eyes as if snuffed. His skin emptied and drooped; his very skull seemed to collapse and settle like a kicked tent. He was shrinking before my eyes like a deflating football." As I was reading this account I couldn't tell if this was all just a metaphor for the frogs demeanor, or if it was a literal description of what was happening; I thought it was the former. It turns out, however, the the frog had fallen victim to what Dillard refers to as the "giant water bug," scientifically known as the Belostomatidae. I was so intrigued by this story that I decided to research the Belostomatidae. The Belostomatidae is a family of insects known as toe-biters, Dillard's assessment, giant water bug, was also accurate. They are the larges insects in the order Hemiptera and have habitats that cover the globe. They are typically found in freshwater streams and ponds and are considered a popular food themselves in Thailand. They are considered fierce predators that stalk, capture and feed on aquatic crustaceans, fish, and amphibians. They often lie motionless at a body of water, attached to various objects, where they wait for prey to come near. When they strike they inject a powerful digestive saliva and suck out the liquefied remains. The bite is considered one of the most painful that can be inflicted by any insect and can even cause long term tissue damage in humans. A nasty brute, the frog never stood a chance.
Jared Free - "Gary Snyder, The Practice of the Wild"
In response to one of the comments made by Snyder I inadvertently developed my thesis for the research paper that was just submitted earlier this week. While living on land in the Sierra Nevada rang of northern California, which the original people, the Nisenan, were forcibly removed from, Snyder reflected that, "It seems there is no one left to teach us which places in this landscape were once felt to be sacred." Particular in North America. Snyder adds though, "With time and attention, I think we will be able to feel and find them again." This point led me to the revelation that society is completely insignificant when it comes to determining sacred space. It does not take the endorsement of the community or population to make a landscape sacred. Rather, individual admiration and appreciation is all that matters. We don't need our ancestors to reveal to us which landscapes were sacred; because all they would be revealing are the landscapes that were sacred to them. We must realize our own sacred landscapes, many times we experience them without even knowing it.
Catherine Greenfield-- Outside Reading 2
Chapter 24 of Douglas Adams' LIFE THE UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING discusses the Silastic Armorfiends of Striterax, and their strong desire to just blow everything up. A very violent alien race, these guys "were the first race who ever managed to shock a computer." This computer was Hactar, "the first to be built like a natural brain, in that every cellular particle of it carried the pattern of the whole within it, which enabled it to think more flexibly and imaginatively, and also, it seemed, to be shocked." What happened was this: the Silastic Armorfiends of Streiterax asked the computer to build them the ultimate weapon. Hactar asked for specifications, and they told him, in short, to "read a bloody dictionary." So Hacter did it. He made the ultimate in terrifying, super-destructive weaponry. But when the Silastic Armorfiends of Striterax tried to use it, they realized it didn't ork! They asked why, and he (Hacter) "tried to explain that he had been thinking about this Ultimate Weapon business, and had worked out that there was no conceivable consequence of not setting the bomb off that was worse than the known consequences of setting it off, and he had therefore taken the liberty of introducing a small flaw into the design of the bomb, and he hoped that everyone involved would, on sober reflection, feel that... The Silastic Armorfiends disagreed and pulverized the computer."
What this passage made me think about was our conversation about computers taking over for us eventually, and how awful that would be. But how awful are WE? I mean, we aren't so different from the Silastic Armorfiends; we have such awful weaponry at our disposal, weaponry whose consequences FAR outweigh any means for their usage, and yet we hadn't the sense that Hactar had to just not have them. What is the POINT of having them? We're mad for power, and machines... we'll they're only mad for what we want them to be mad for. We could make them mad for cake, and that wouldn't be so bad.
I guess I am trying to say that we make such awful choices ourselves, and then we cringe at the idea of computers becoming smarter than us... why, because they're "cold, heartless, and logical"? Well, maybe we should start being more logical ourselves, because we're already pretty damn cold and heartless. Look, we're three quarters of the way to that imagined future which we so despise! I guess we should break out the sunglasses and floor-length leather jackets, now, while we still have time to get our hands on them... but is that BEFORE or AFTER we slaughter thousands of cattle for surplus, wasted meat, and then use the skin of a completely DIFFERENT herd of cattle (whose flesh, mind you, will go to waste... this cow was not bread to be a "meat cow") to make our fancy jackets, which we will only wear until they are out of fashion? To a cow its skin is always in fashion, please! Oh, aren't WE fleshy and mooshy kind! What extravagance! A machine would never be so wasteful.
So, what's good, what's bad? It's only what we make it.
So can we please stop making it bad, please? Zarking strags.
Catherine Greenfield-- Outside Reading
"Night was come, and her planets were risen: a safe, still night, too serene for the companionship of fear. We know that God is everywhere; but certainly we feel His presence most when His works are on the grandest scale spread before us: and it is in the unclouded night-sky, where His worlds wheel their silent course, that we read clearest His infinitude, His omnipotence, His omnipresence.... Sure was I of His efficency to save what He had made: convinced I grew that neither earth should perish, nor one of the souls it treasured." Jane Eyre- Charlotte Bronte- Chapter 28.
My boyfriend and I stood out among the stars one night. It was nice, to be so alone with him. At my house, there aren't any artificial lights for miles and miles around; you can see the stars go on to infinity. All is peace; all is well. At that point, on that night, I felt very similar to how Jane felt in this passage; although there will always be hard times, and things that make us feel that we are insignificant, even the tiniest bug on the tiniest meteor in the farthest reaches of space are important to God-- he loves us all. I felt that, even though my boyfriend and I are almost always apart, we are very close together in the grand scheme of things. Whenever I read that passage, I think of my loved ones who are far away, and think about how close, in relation to the nearest star, that person or those persons really are. It makes me feel nice to know that they aren't really all that far from me, and that all of the stars to us are the same stars, the moon the same moon, and our God the same God (even if not everyone I love believes that). God will never forsake us, just as he will never forsake that tiny bug on the tiny asteroid in the farthest reaches of space. He won't let that bug perish, but instead have eternal refills on his drinks at Millways, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.
Catherine Greenfield-- A Final Turn
There is a banana on my desk.
I wonder what it went through to get to be here.
Did it hurt, I wonder, to grow as it did, in a bunch? I hope it wasn't a claustrophobic banana, or it would have spent its youth in a terrifying bundle of nerves, or fruit, or both.
I wonder what it was like being green? I wonder what it was like being so high up for so long. I wonder if it feels high up, if that is all you know. I wonder if it likes being down as much as up. I will put it on a shelf, and check to see if its demeanor changes.
It looks a little happier. But that might be because the shelf is empty, and the desk is cluttered. In other words, maybe it just looks happy because it isn't in a cluster, anymore. That was not a very scientific experiment.
Is plucking a bunch of bananas genocide? No, they're not human. Is it fruiticide, then? No, we will eat them, they will have use. So, if genocide victims were eaten, it would be okay? No, that would be cannibalism. What if we made them into dog food? No, that would be cruel. But plucking a bunch of happy bananas isn't cruel? No, they can't feel. Who says? Science. And science is infallible. Generally. What about Pluto? Touche.
I like to argue with myself. I never win. I also rarely lose. It's an enjoyable game. I much prefer arguing with someone else, though... I get bored, easily, with only the two opinions in my head. Two is too few. I need more. I need someone dual to duel with me. I will try arguing with that banana, now.
Nope, that banana is not dual. It's probably a Cancer or something. Of COURSE I wouldn't pick the Gemini or Sag or fellow Aquarian banana. Just my luck. Oh well. It seems amiable enough.
Would it be cruel of me to eat it? Or cruel of me to not eat it? Cruel to not eat it, because it gave its life for your growth, by your own terms. Yes, but the PEOPLE. They don't count; their lives were taken. Who says the banana wanted to die? It was going to die soon, anyway; bananas don't have long lifespans. Oh, so suddenly, the lifespan of the thing is what determins its worth? Well... maybe? Okay, so a turtle is of greater worth than a person? No. Wait. Yes. Wait. I have just confused myself again.
Okay, deep breath.
That banana looks delicious. Thank you, banana, for being so delicious. Thank you for providing me with potassium and goodness and happiness. Thank you for giving your life for me. It was very kind of you.
I think it just nodded. Sort of. I think I'll eat it now.
If there is one thing I have learned in this class, it's that you can't underestimate bananas. Don't ask me how I got there. I don't know how I got there. I don't CARE how I got there. I got there. And now I have just contradicted myself on every single point ever.
I have enjoyed this blogging process. It made me think about stuff.
It has also made me hungry. Down the hatch, banana my love!
Mmm... delicious!
Friday, May 2, 2008
Catherine Greenfield-- The Full Wolf Moon.
When I was in the fifth grade, my mother introduced me to the Full Wolf Moon. We finally had our necks above the water financially (she had recently been married, and had a second child), and were presented with the luxury of a relatively placid evening. It was winter, and, looking out of our Massachusetts kitchen window, we could see a male otter and a female otter romping through the snow as if it was water. My mother was overtaken with excitement for a moment, and although I did not know why, it was contagious. My sister and my sister's father were both asleep by this point, and the moon was high and white and round as a dinner plate. My mother took my hand and brought me outside-- it was freezing, and we were just in our sweaters.
I remember this in a sequence, as opposed to frame-by-frame; we were running in the snow, we were playing around the otters, I was rolling in the snow, we were hugging the trees, we were watching the tiny fish in the almost-frozen creek, we were crunching in our boots over the frosted stalks of dead wildflowers, she was chasing me with sticks, we were pretending we were the moose that often came down from the mountain right next to our house. And then we were across the street at the school's playground, sliding the slides, howling at the Full Wolf Moon in the dead of winter. We howled, and howled, and howled, as loud and as long and as fully as anything ever howled for any purpose. Neighborhood dogs howled in response. Wolves, or wild dogs, from the mountain howled back. A neighbor cursed loudly and threw something, and still we continued. We couldn't stop. My mother was crying. I was crying, too.
I didn't know why. She did. We were ALIVE. After everything we had been through, everything we had to fight through to be where we were, when we were, TOGETHER... we had made it. And my mother, finally, after so many years of trying to keep the pair of us afloat in a world of scant paychecks and mounting bills, of empty bellies and worn-out shoes, finally got to teach her daughter how to be alive. We found ourselves again, or maybe for the first time, but FOREVER.
I have shown a few other people the aliveness of the Full Wolf Moon, since, but nobody has ever seemed to fully understand it the way my mother has. I was really upset to miss experiencing it, to miss ENCOUNTERING it, with my boyfriend this last winter. I think he would have understood. He's that sort of person. I hope, someday, to show him what it is to become ALIVE the way we, my mother and I, were finally ALIVE. I think he would get a lot out of it. I think everyone would get a lot out of it.
BE ALIVE. LIVE. BE.
Everything's gonna be alright.
(P.S.... the hands in that picture that look manly belong to Frog, the hiker who visited us last class... Frog is the sort of person who knows how to LIVE and BE. If anyone has the chance to talk to him more, he is very interesting, and can also fly; I have seen him at it.)
Catherine Greenfield-- Another form of Matrimony-- In relation to A Continuous Harmony.
"If we apply our minds directly and competently to the needs of the earth, then we will have begun to make fundamental and necessary changes in our minds." A Continuous Harmony
Like in a romantic relationship, it is important to remember the needs of the other as well as your own needs. Doubtless, it is important to make sure that you yourself are at ease and comfortable. But it is similarly important (and, in a healthy relationship, not at all mutually exclusive) to make sure that the person you are in the relationship with is similarly at ease. For example, if you are hungry, you eat, but you also ask if the other person wants some food as well. If you are upset with a situation, you say so, but also ask if the other person is having similar feelings in regards to the issue. If you are cold, you ask before turning up the heat. If there is only one helping of Mac&Cheese left in the pot, you ask if the other wants to share it. This isn't just in a romantic relationship so much as common courtesy, but you get my point (I hope).
The same goes for our relationship with the earth-- if we are hungry, we don't just over-plant-- we fertilize the earth, and try to rotate our crops to keep the earth healthy. If we are feeling cold, we shouldn't just chop down every tree in sight and make a bonfire-- we should use what nature has dropped on the earth for us, or only take what we need. Similarly, if we are hungry, we oughtn't kill a surplus of animals just in case we are hungry later-- we ought to take what we need, save what we don't finish, and use ALL of the animal as best we can. These are the things we ought to do-- whether or not they can be implemented in modern society is up the majority, and looking at it as it stand, the future in that respect doesn't look all that bright.
What we can do is try to cut down on our greenhouse-gas emissions, on our fossil fuel use, on our electricity usage, on our non biodegradable waste, on our wastefulness in general. It's a simple, in some ways, as buying products made from recyclables, as buying a light bulb meant to last for ages, as buying a car with more miles to the gallon or, even better, getting a bike instead. It's not EASY to be kinder and more thoughtful to our battered wife, mother Earth, in this day in age... but we can at least show her some sympathy, and try to balm her wounds somewhat. Who knows? Maybe she will be able to find it in her heart to forgive us.
Catherine Greenfield-- Of Matramony-- In relation to The Unsettling of America
"Neither nature nor people alone can produce human sustenance, but only the two together, culturally wedded" p.9 Unsettling of America
I feel that it is indeed important to think of our relationship with the natural world as being similar to our relationships with other people. In a healthy relationship, there is give and take. There is love in relationsips that lead to anything even remotely similar to being "wedded." To be "wedded" to nature, then, we must be patent and kind, we must not pass judgement on it, we must treat it as we want to be treated. If we truly love ourselves, we must love that which has made us; our God, and our planet. Here's how I see it: God made the earth. The earth popped up some little life forms. The life forms said, "Oh, hi! We want to be sentient, now!" And they were. And God thought that was pretty neat, so he let them get a little cuter (or a little less cute, maybe), and then he gave some of them thumbs. And the rest, as they say, is history. Or, maybe you want to call it mythology, reader. Well, I won't stop you-- it takes all kinds. Anyway, let's think of it like this-- do you love God, if you are religious? Yes. Will you serve Him (or her? Or them)? Yes. Will you do your best to treat others, brothers under the same son, and from the same God, with kindness, civility, and care? Yes. Well, what about the earth? Will you deny your mother, your sister, your earthy, leafy kin the same kindness, civility, and love? Why not treat it the way YOU want to be treated? I don't know about you, but if I had a bunch of little pipsqueeks pouring gallons and gallons of oil into MY mouth every second of every day, and filling my pretty green hair with garbage, and strangling my pet ducks... well, I'd send tornadoes and hailstorms, too.
Okay, I went off topic. If you can't tell by now, I tend to do that a lot. But my point is this: you show your family and your lovers and your friends and your God many forms of love and care. Why not the earth under your feet? After all... it's probably even more alive than even YOU are.
(P.S..... I couldn't make the italics go away. Sorry...)
Catherine Greenfield-- Verbosity and Clarity-- In relation to Anne Dillard
One of the things I like the most about Anne Dillard's style of writing is her ability to be simultaneously verbose and clear; if only it was so easy! She refers constantly to her revisions, her nights awake and fitful, demolishing an entire chapter and replacing it with a single word, her desire to write everything for what it is, perfectly, without shortcuts or needless rambling. I enjoy her writing greatly, because she presents the reader with a Technicolor world, but not a five-hundred-page blather dancing around one particular topic.
I enjoy her writing style, but must also say that I find it to be an unfulfilling way to write; as a singer (and a soprano, at that), I find myself consistently dancing around "do" (or I ((1)), or Tonic, if you will); I enjoy the dance that gets to the long-awaited resolution. Deceptive cadences thrill me; modulations entrance me, and I am always pleased with changes of rhythm and meter that JUST keep the piece from its resolution. I enjoy being wordy and verbose, perhaps because I write primarily for my own sake, and not for the understanding of others. True, there are times when I want people to understand my point, but what I mostly want them to get out of what I write is how I GOT to the point... to me, the journey is almost as, if not more important than, the final result.
Again, Anne Dillard is admirable, and I fully enjoy her style. I hope to emulate it, perhaps, in my formal papers from here on out. But I do not like the idea of being so distraught over the clarity of a statement-- let the reader dance with you, I say! People get so worked up about getting to the point... slow down! Smell the roses. You may not get anywhere quickly, but a nice largo waltz can be nice once in a while, too.
Catherine Greenfield-- The source of life-- In relation to The Unsettling of America.
"Religion, in the root sense of the word, is what binds us back to the source of life" p.81, The Unsettling of America.
I have to say that I agree with this statement, if not only because I am, myself, religious, but because it seems to me that everybody has to believe in something in order to be okay with his or herself, and with his or her surroundings. The idea that we are all connected, whether that idea is a religious or a scientific one, is something that gives us, as human beings, some sort of firm ground on which to stand. The idea, also, that a higher power made us that way on purpose gives us an even firmer ground. My personal view is that God knew that we needed to have that sense of connectedness in order to have the sense of personal and impersonal awareness that makes us human-- without the ability to think about where we come from and how we relate to other things, we wouldn't be human at all. We would be rocks.... not that that's a bad thing. I know quite a number of rocks, and they seem perfectly content in their place. But that's not my point; my point is that our ability to chose whether or not we believe in a God or in something more scientific is what makes us human, and binds us back to whatever source of life we believe in (although, in my opinion again, regardless of what you believe in, God is the source of life. You don't have to believe it for it to be true... although, there is something to be said about belief MAKING something true... but that another topic entirely).
I need time to formulate this idea some more. I think I will address it again, later, however.
Kelley Brown- The Unsettling of America
"Religion, in the root sense of the word, is what binds us back to the source of life" (p. 81). For me personally, this is the only thing that really makes sense. I believe that God is the creator of all and that His Son, Christ Jesus came down from heaven to die for our sins because we are all sinners and we all fall short of the glory of God. God created us and gave us physical life and Jesus saved us, as long as we believe in Him as our Saviour and source of life, and has given us eternal life with Him and through Him. Therefore, believing in Christ Jesus is what binds us back to the source of life, God the Father. Amen.
Jared Free - "Gary Snyder, The Practice of the Wild"
In reading Gary Snyder, and following his attempts to try and define wilderness, I've come to the conclusion that no one, not even the most philosophically minded, scholastically intelligent individual will ever be able to set a definitive everlasting definition for what is wilderness. Snyder proposes, that "wilderness seems to be remote and perhaps designated regions that are commonly alpine, desert, or swamp." I can agree that this is the general consensus in society. His next assertion alludes to the every changing idea of wilderness. In saying "There has been no wilderness without some kind of human presence for several hundred thousand years" and further, that "Often there are areas that are difficult and remote, but all are known and even named," Snyder seems to be trying to refute the standard that wilderness is uninhabited; meaning eventually it will no longer exist as humans continue to develop habitats. I take from this that wilderness is not and will never cease to be; rather, it is always changing and as such our definition of it must also be perpetually evolving. Snyder's comments reminded me of the saying "It's a jungle out there." No matter what environment your in, natural or man made, it's all wilderness
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