Fear-
Of time committed
time lost
time wasted.
Where would I be if not here?
What could I do if not this?
A downpour of lists,
Falling around me like leaves
Only through conscious effort can I breathe -
Can I ground the soul
to the body.
My will,
my goals,
my passions -
a driving wind
that carries the leaves away:
all but those beneath my feet,
within my clenched fists.
MY will. MY goals. MY passions.
At the front of the room,
eighty eyes away,
She huffs and puffs
and blows them all down.
Down with questions!
Down with digressions!
Down with the mind - most sacred of possessions!
Mind not your fancies,
those insignificant inklings of thought;
You are too young
to understand
O, you are far too young indeed.
Chains of dogma -
they bind me to this chair,
make me stare
straight ahead, at words for which I do not - cannot - care.
In an entropic world,
all rice pudding is pink,
all solutions fully diffused,
all things room-temperature.
What exactly are you teaching?
Preaching normally
like it's gold
And so we become stories of old
stories retold
to warn of what happens
when souls are stripped, devalued, and sold.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Monday, January 27, 2014
What's the Significance?
I hear her in the color gray
muffled, fuzzy, distant
The words crawling slowly
into my ears
like a starving man moves to shade in the heat of the day
limping,
collapsing.
Myself, relapsing - into my fancies
O daydreams, my daydreams
take me away.
The people go first - fading into the stark white walls
their voices dimmer, dimmer, dimmer
Shimmering - sunlight
The reflection off the leg of a chair
Staring into the brightness --
falling into it and coming out
the other side
the glare now off a glassy lake.
Utter stillness,
sanctity,
solitude.
Trees need no words to communicate,
I need only breathe in to understand the mountains.
And the truth comes gliding
from the bough of a juniper - chirping
and nodding curiously - whilst upon a fallen log.
There is no need for words
in this world
where still I sit on the other side
of the sunlight,
at a desk,
in a room,
Being taught "English" in a tongue which does not resonate.
muffled, fuzzy, distant
The words crawling slowly
into my ears
like a starving man moves to shade in the heat of the day
limping,
collapsing.
Myself, relapsing - into my fancies
O daydreams, my daydreams
take me away.
The people go first - fading into the stark white walls
their voices dimmer, dimmer, dimmer
Shimmering - sunlight
The reflection off the leg of a chair
Staring into the brightness --
falling into it and coming out
the other side
the glare now off a glassy lake.
Utter stillness,
sanctity,
solitude.
Trees need no words to communicate,
I need only breathe in to understand the mountains.
And the truth comes gliding
from the bough of a juniper - chirping
and nodding curiously - whilst upon a fallen log.
There is no need for words
in this world
where still I sit on the other side
of the sunlight,
at a desk,
in a room,
Being taught "English" in a tongue which does not resonate.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
It'llbeokay
Sometimes I write things out - pages and pages of words strung together - and then, disregarding the hours it took to write them and make them visible, I press 3 keys and make it all disappear. CTRL+A, DEL. And just like that: a white blank page.
I have always been told to keep all of my writing, to read through it every once in a while and remind myself of what the muses have urged me to create - to remind myself of the things I have felt and the words I have used to describe them. I cannot bring myself to do it though. I see an error, confusion, bland wording, cliche ideas: poor writing. And then CTRL+A, DEL. And it is all gone. I can kill a poem - strangle it furiously, as if the life I squeeze from it would enter me, and watch as it crumples in front of me, a lifeless pathetic thing. And with the swipe of 3 keys the evidence vanishes. No less of a criminal, but still my secret remains hidden.
When I can't find words to write, or when there are too many catapulting throughout my head, I go into the woods. I like walking on still days, when the snow falls straight down and every noise is magnified, but today as I walked I relished in the wind - the turmoil around me as trees creaked and groaned under the strain, the freedom I felt in the way my hair whipped around me. I could feel each gust of wind force its way into each of my pores, bringing with it an unparalleled clarity. This is why I am here.
Something in my mind is churning. Words, images, memories: tumbling and colliding, today in a hard, violent way. My mind instinctively pushes back, too eager to hold onto the image of the ideal to face whatever painful conclusion I have already, on some level, come to. I quicken my pace. The trail steadily inclines for a total of 7.5 miles before reaching a steep scree slope that extends a quarter mile further. At that point there is a lip which drops down into Lodge Pole Lake - named for the lanky trees which surround it. It's a beautiful lake that gets next to zero traffic this time of year. The snow has already set in many of the mountains, and I am sure the last couple miles of the trail would be blanketed in white. But I am only hiking until the first river crossing anyway; 5 miles in the trail drops back down to the river it follows and a large fallen tree, about 2 feet in diameter, serves as a bridge from bank to bank. The occasional adventurous soul can be seen boating up the river to this point, for it is known for its deep, mellow water and superb trout fishing. It is here that I have my sites set on.
My legs begin to tingle as I feel a subtle burn creeping up. I have gone past the point of walking and am nearly at a running pace now. How fitting of you - literally running from your problems. "I'M NOT RUNNING!!" the words are thrown from my mouth before I have even realized it. I stop in the middle of the trail, picturing my words as they vibrate through the air, present only for a moment, and then vanish entirely. That's the interesting thing about spoken words - by the time you speak the second word there is nothing of the first one left. My legs pulsate beneath me, strong and capable but tired all the same.
You are still running.
It's more of a whisper this time - a softer, kinder voice. The voice a mother would use in consoling her child, "There, there now sweetheart. I know it's hard now, but it will all be over soon."
I tilt my head back and stare up at the sky. My own breath is visible in front of me, heavy from the unexpected run. I wait until my breathing has slowed, then close my eyes and let my mind catch up to me, bracing for what painful truth will surely come with it.
The first image in my head is that of his face - smiling, laughing. He is happy, and because of that I know I, surely just outside the edges of the frame, am too. And then I watch as his face changes. It morphs into frustration and then anger and then nothing at all: an expressionless face stares at me. And I am saddened by it. Not the me that is now, but the me that exists at the same time as the image of this face. The me that is now feels something different from sadness, something that is less despair and more resignation. If it could be made into a food it would be both bitter and salty. And I would eat it all the same. Because it is mine to carry, to own, to experience.
The image is swept away and replaced by a series of phone calls, all of which are made by me in tears. I cannot hear the words I am saying to the person on the other end, but I can feel them - deep inside of me - and a wave of emotions comes over me. Worry, confusion, doubt, insecurity. The me that is in the image feels these too. But the me that is now, though feeling them, feels also a distinct thought "These feelings are not an accurate description, but rather your perception" and this thought is felt with such conviction that the me that is now no longer feels any of those emotions. I feel, instead, the same sort of sadness as I did when the man's face was in my head.
I know what this series of images means. I know it in my mind, in my heart. It pulsates through me in sync with the pulsing of my worked muscles, in sync with the red and white blood cells that are coursing through my veins.
And I know now that I have felt it, now that I have let myself see the truth, I cannot sit idly by. I can no longer stay on this raft as it meanders down the river, because I see now that this is not my boat - not my river - not my journey. And now, scary though it may be, I must jump out, swim ashore, and begin the hike: to a different boat in a different river.
I open my eyes again, surprised to find that I am still standing, still breathing. It'llbeokayIt'llbeokayIt'llbeokay. I run those words through my head like a prayer - needing them to be true.
Again overwhelmed by what this all means, I push forward up the trail. Even amid the turmoil in my head I am taken aback by the beauty of what surrounds me, the connectedness I feel from within me to this world. Buddhism has a saying about it: "The gods are in the mountains, and though you may not be near to them they are always near to you." Being out here alone and in the wild has always felt that way to me. There is an unexplainable and undeniable truth that exists in the solitude of the mountains. And when I am out here I am one step nearer to it.
One step at a time, thinking of the beauty around me rather than the sadness within me, I continue my march up the trail. As I round a corner the trail starts to slowly descend, the noise of the river growing louder with each step. I know there are only two more turns until I arrive at my final destination. The thought ever so slightly deflates me. I don't want to go back. I don't want to face my reality.
You can't stay here forever.
Again I get defensive - stubborn - towards that voice. Maybe I can stay out here. Build a shelter, live off the land, never talk to another human all my life. But even as I think this, I know it is not what I will do. I will go back. I will look my life in the eyes and then I will grab it, tenderly though assertively, and pull it into my arms. There it will be cradled as I carry it, entirely on my own, until I can find that river that surely must be out there - that boat that sits on the shore, waiting for a captain, its captain.
I pick up my pace once more - unwilling to let my apprehension hold me back - and round the last bend of the trail. The river rushes by, indifferent to the small, human worries I'm projecting into the air around it. I walk to the edge where the log lays and raise one foot and then the other onto it. Walking only halfway across, I sit and let my feet dangle above the coursing water below. It'llbeokayIt'llbeokayIt'llbeokay. I chant it through my mind until it becomes to me what the songs of ancient peoples were to them - a truth. My heart rate slows as I close my eyes and breathe deeply - allowing the sounds of my immediate surroundings to take up residence in my mind. Birds chirping, water moving, a splash - possibly the rise of a fish? - and another sound I cannot place. Almost like that of water lapping on the shore, but something makes me think it is not. It is a sound that does not resonate at the same frequency as its environment, does not have a part in the melody of nature. I open my eyes and look behind me, down river, and see a small fishing boat pulled onto the bank - water licking at its metal sides. There is no fisherman in sight, but I assume he took his boat only as far as the river would allow - the log blocking any access up further - then went on foot after that.
This is why you are here
I hear it in the waves of the water, in the wind blowing through the trees, in the birds chirping around me. A reminder that, though this one has reached its end, there will always be more rivers, more boats, more adventures.
I have always been told to keep all of my writing, to read through it every once in a while and remind myself of what the muses have urged me to create - to remind myself of the things I have felt and the words I have used to describe them. I cannot bring myself to do it though. I see an error, confusion, bland wording, cliche ideas: poor writing. And then CTRL+A, DEL. And it is all gone. I can kill a poem - strangle it furiously, as if the life I squeeze from it would enter me, and watch as it crumples in front of me, a lifeless pathetic thing. And with the swipe of 3 keys the evidence vanishes. No less of a criminal, but still my secret remains hidden.
When I can't find words to write, or when there are too many catapulting throughout my head, I go into the woods. I like walking on still days, when the snow falls straight down and every noise is magnified, but today as I walked I relished in the wind - the turmoil around me as trees creaked and groaned under the strain, the freedom I felt in the way my hair whipped around me. I could feel each gust of wind force its way into each of my pores, bringing with it an unparalleled clarity. This is why I am here.
Something in my mind is churning. Words, images, memories: tumbling and colliding, today in a hard, violent way. My mind instinctively pushes back, too eager to hold onto the image of the ideal to face whatever painful conclusion I have already, on some level, come to. I quicken my pace. The trail steadily inclines for a total of 7.5 miles before reaching a steep scree slope that extends a quarter mile further. At that point there is a lip which drops down into Lodge Pole Lake - named for the lanky trees which surround it. It's a beautiful lake that gets next to zero traffic this time of year. The snow has already set in many of the mountains, and I am sure the last couple miles of the trail would be blanketed in white. But I am only hiking until the first river crossing anyway; 5 miles in the trail drops back down to the river it follows and a large fallen tree, about 2 feet in diameter, serves as a bridge from bank to bank. The occasional adventurous soul can be seen boating up the river to this point, for it is known for its deep, mellow water and superb trout fishing. It is here that I have my sites set on.
My legs begin to tingle as I feel a subtle burn creeping up. I have gone past the point of walking and am nearly at a running pace now. How fitting of you - literally running from your problems. "I'M NOT RUNNING!!" the words are thrown from my mouth before I have even realized it. I stop in the middle of the trail, picturing my words as they vibrate through the air, present only for a moment, and then vanish entirely. That's the interesting thing about spoken words - by the time you speak the second word there is nothing of the first one left. My legs pulsate beneath me, strong and capable but tired all the same.
You are still running.
It's more of a whisper this time - a softer, kinder voice. The voice a mother would use in consoling her child, "There, there now sweetheart. I know it's hard now, but it will all be over soon."
I tilt my head back and stare up at the sky. My own breath is visible in front of me, heavy from the unexpected run. I wait until my breathing has slowed, then close my eyes and let my mind catch up to me, bracing for what painful truth will surely come with it.
The first image in my head is that of his face - smiling, laughing. He is happy, and because of that I know I, surely just outside the edges of the frame, am too. And then I watch as his face changes. It morphs into frustration and then anger and then nothing at all: an expressionless face stares at me. And I am saddened by it. Not the me that is now, but the me that exists at the same time as the image of this face. The me that is now feels something different from sadness, something that is less despair and more resignation. If it could be made into a food it would be both bitter and salty. And I would eat it all the same. Because it is mine to carry, to own, to experience.
The image is swept away and replaced by a series of phone calls, all of which are made by me in tears. I cannot hear the words I am saying to the person on the other end, but I can feel them - deep inside of me - and a wave of emotions comes over me. Worry, confusion, doubt, insecurity. The me that is in the image feels these too. But the me that is now, though feeling them, feels also a distinct thought "These feelings are not an accurate description, but rather your perception" and this thought is felt with such conviction that the me that is now no longer feels any of those emotions. I feel, instead, the same sort of sadness as I did when the man's face was in my head.
I know what this series of images means. I know it in my mind, in my heart. It pulsates through me in sync with the pulsing of my worked muscles, in sync with the red and white blood cells that are coursing through my veins.
And I know now that I have felt it, now that I have let myself see the truth, I cannot sit idly by. I can no longer stay on this raft as it meanders down the river, because I see now that this is not my boat - not my river - not my journey. And now, scary though it may be, I must jump out, swim ashore, and begin the hike: to a different boat in a different river.
I open my eyes again, surprised to find that I am still standing, still breathing. It'llbeokayIt'llbeokayIt'llbeokay. I run those words through my head like a prayer - needing them to be true.
Again overwhelmed by what this all means, I push forward up the trail. Even amid the turmoil in my head I am taken aback by the beauty of what surrounds me, the connectedness I feel from within me to this world. Buddhism has a saying about it: "The gods are in the mountains, and though you may not be near to them they are always near to you." Being out here alone and in the wild has always felt that way to me. There is an unexplainable and undeniable truth that exists in the solitude of the mountains. And when I am out here I am one step nearer to it.
One step at a time, thinking of the beauty around me rather than the sadness within me, I continue my march up the trail. As I round a corner the trail starts to slowly descend, the noise of the river growing louder with each step. I know there are only two more turns until I arrive at my final destination. The thought ever so slightly deflates me. I don't want to go back. I don't want to face my reality.
You can't stay here forever.
Again I get defensive - stubborn - towards that voice. Maybe I can stay out here. Build a shelter, live off the land, never talk to another human all my life. But even as I think this, I know it is not what I will do. I will go back. I will look my life in the eyes and then I will grab it, tenderly though assertively, and pull it into my arms. There it will be cradled as I carry it, entirely on my own, until I can find that river that surely must be out there - that boat that sits on the shore, waiting for a captain, its captain.
I pick up my pace once more - unwilling to let my apprehension hold me back - and round the last bend of the trail. The river rushes by, indifferent to the small, human worries I'm projecting into the air around it. I walk to the edge where the log lays and raise one foot and then the other onto it. Walking only halfway across, I sit and let my feet dangle above the coursing water below. It'llbeokayIt'llbeokayIt'llbeokay. I chant it through my mind until it becomes to me what the songs of ancient peoples were to them - a truth. My heart rate slows as I close my eyes and breathe deeply - allowing the sounds of my immediate surroundings to take up residence in my mind. Birds chirping, water moving, a splash - possibly the rise of a fish? - and another sound I cannot place. Almost like that of water lapping on the shore, but something makes me think it is not. It is a sound that does not resonate at the same frequency as its environment, does not have a part in the melody of nature. I open my eyes and look behind me, down river, and see a small fishing boat pulled onto the bank - water licking at its metal sides. There is no fisherman in sight, but I assume he took his boat only as far as the river would allow - the log blocking any access up further - then went on foot after that.
This is why you are here
I hear it in the waves of the water, in the wind blowing through the trees, in the birds chirping around me. A reminder that, though this one has reached its end, there will always be more rivers, more boats, more adventures.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Cheers to the New Year
As the clock ticks on and I replace the calendar hanging above my bed, I can't help but look back at the year 2013. I had what I would say was a great year.
Highlights:
- solidified myself in some awesome friends groups
- moved into a house with 4 of my closest friends
- started a fulfilling romantic relationship
- completed my first year of college (with a 4.0)
- competed in my first climbing competition (took 2nd)
- took a variety of climbing and backpacking trips throughout the northwest
- learned to fly fish
- took the most interesting class imaginable
- discovered a lot about myself in general
- felt confident that every single person in my life knew how deeply I care for then
And while I had a fantastic year, I can't help but think of this new year - 2014 - and wonder what could lie ahead. Though it remains a mystery, I do know there are some areas of my life I want to alter or emphasize. And when I look back at the year from January 1st of 2015 I will know that, no matter what the year brings, I am a step closer to being the woman I want to be.
Resolutions:
- write more
- worry less
- love endlessly
- hesitate less; if I want to say something, I will do it. No matter how scary it may seem.
- climb more - for me, not for anyone or anything else
- care: less about other people's thoughts of me and more about my words/actions to other people
- be transparent: to not only others, but myself
- don't settle. If my friends have shown me anything it is that loved is not reserved for the perfect and that love knows no bounds and will make itself known at all times. Anything less than this is not worth being around. I may not me loved by everyone, but the people that do love me have shown me how it should feel, so why would I accept anything less than that?
- trust deeper
- assume less
- dance more
- feel no shame. I am happy with the life I have created for myself and the person I am discovering myself to be, and I need to stand up for those things more.
- be easier on myself
- live day by day and moment by moment
- deliver an awesome speech at my sister's wedding
- sky dive again
- work a forest service or fish & game job
- finish my first draft of the book I've been working on
- laugh daily
I'm sure this list will only lengthen as I think of new things - steps I can take towards a state of being rather than becoming. I am lucky beyond belief to have the life I have, the friends and family I have, the dreams I have. And this year I hope to capitalize on all of that by bettering myself; because the one common element through all the areas of my life is exactly that: me. I am the constant, not my friends or family or studies or any of that. And if I want to get the most out of each and every moment, then I need to accept that the only thing I have control over is myself, and I need to use that control to bring as much positive energy as possible to every aspect of my life. We are small, insignificant, unoriginal creatures. And yet the whole world lies at our fingertips.
Highlights:
- solidified myself in some awesome friends groups
- moved into a house with 4 of my closest friends
- started a fulfilling romantic relationship
- completed my first year of college (with a 4.0)
- competed in my first climbing competition (took 2nd)
- took a variety of climbing and backpacking trips throughout the northwest
- learned to fly fish
- took the most interesting class imaginable
- discovered a lot about myself in general
- felt confident that every single person in my life knew how deeply I care for then
And while I had a fantastic year, I can't help but think of this new year - 2014 - and wonder what could lie ahead. Though it remains a mystery, I do know there are some areas of my life I want to alter or emphasize. And when I look back at the year from January 1st of 2015 I will know that, no matter what the year brings, I am a step closer to being the woman I want to be.
Resolutions:
- write more
- worry less
- love endlessly
- hesitate less; if I want to say something, I will do it. No matter how scary it may seem.
- climb more - for me, not for anyone or anything else
- care: less about other people's thoughts of me and more about my words/actions to other people
- be transparent: to not only others, but myself
- don't settle. If my friends have shown me anything it is that loved is not reserved for the perfect and that love knows no bounds and will make itself known at all times. Anything less than this is not worth being around. I may not me loved by everyone, but the people that do love me have shown me how it should feel, so why would I accept anything less than that?
- trust deeper
- assume less
- dance more
- feel no shame. I am happy with the life I have created for myself and the person I am discovering myself to be, and I need to stand up for those things more.
- be easier on myself
- live day by day and moment by moment
- deliver an awesome speech at my sister's wedding
- sky dive again
- work a forest service or fish & game job
- finish my first draft of the book I've been working on
- laugh daily
I'm sure this list will only lengthen as I think of new things - steps I can take towards a state of being rather than becoming. I am lucky beyond belief to have the life I have, the friends and family I have, the dreams I have. And this year I hope to capitalize on all of that by bettering myself; because the one common element through all the areas of my life is exactly that: me. I am the constant, not my friends or family or studies or any of that. And if I want to get the most out of each and every moment, then I need to accept that the only thing I have control over is myself, and I need to use that control to bring as much positive energy as possible to every aspect of my life. We are small, insignificant, unoriginal creatures. And yet the whole world lies at our fingertips.
Monday, December 30, 2013
A Butterfly Sans Flight In A Vision Once I Saw..
I was at my farm, basking in the beautiful sunlight, when my mind slowly slipped into it's routine of day dreaming. This is what I saw.
Purple orange glints
Sunlight on glittery dust
Fluttering, flimsy, flightless.
Hair-thin legs meant only for
landing, standing
Now the primary resource
Scramble for awkward footing.
A cascade of shadows plays across
the ground
And mid these shadows, with feet
faltering futilely,
She slowly made way
A butterfly with broken wings,
A sky empty of stars,
Full of fellow fliers – former
friends of flight
She wishes for a breeze, a gust
to carry her away
To sweep her off her overburdened
feet
And give her one more chance
To soar, to glide, to remember
What it’s like
To live how she was designed
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Dream Poetry
Their faces, once so defined, were now weathered and old
Wind smoothed stone showed a mere outline of what once was
As the face pulled back into the mountain,
Letting nature reclaim her own once more.
We walk the trail ahead,
But it too has been eroded
And as it crumbles away a gaping hole is left.
Five feet spans the gap - five feet across but five hundred in depth
The pull forward outweighs the risk and we know:
We must go on.
I cross the gap - my feet finding firm ground
My mind slipping away
And I find it again at the edge of a high mountain lake
Blue green water pools
Fallen logs on the edges
A ripple spreads across the glassy surface
The rise of a fish?
A seal breaks the surface
Lunging to the shore, where her young appears to greet her
Seals in a lake, yet I feel no surprise.
Curiosity pilots my body as I dive
into the mystical lake
It drives me to the very bottom
Where my lungs assure me they are really more capable than I think.
Propelled through the water by something surely outside of myself,
I find a creature playing in the darkness
He turns his head and the white fur covering him moves in waves
I feel no fear as the polar bear swims past me and instead shut my eyes
Surrendering my body to the waves.
********************************************
Another attempt at dream poetry. I try to just word-vomit it out and not edit so that it is expressed in the first words that came to mind. Not sure how valid that way of writing is, but I'm going for it! My dream last night was simply too interesting to me to not write about it in some way. The first part is talking about Mt. Rushmore; I was hiking past it and couldn't even tell that it was Rushmore because the faces had been so weathered. It was a really beautiful image - their faces receding into the mountain. I wish I could share that visual with the class. The rest of the dream was pretty weird too (seals and polar bears in a small mountain lake and me once again being able to stay under water for long amounts of time) but it was an enjoyable dream and I woke up happy. Dreams are sweet.
Wind smoothed stone showed a mere outline of what once was
As the face pulled back into the mountain,
Letting nature reclaim her own once more.
We walk the trail ahead,
But it too has been eroded
And as it crumbles away a gaping hole is left.
Five feet spans the gap - five feet across but five hundred in depth
The pull forward outweighs the risk and we know:
We must go on.
I cross the gap - my feet finding firm ground
My mind slipping away
And I find it again at the edge of a high mountain lake
Blue green water pools
Fallen logs on the edges
A ripple spreads across the glassy surface
The rise of a fish?
A seal breaks the surface
Lunging to the shore, where her young appears to greet her
Seals in a lake, yet I feel no surprise.
Curiosity pilots my body as I dive
into the mystical lake
It drives me to the very bottom
Where my lungs assure me they are really more capable than I think.
Propelled through the water by something surely outside of myself,
I find a creature playing in the darkness
He turns his head and the white fur covering him moves in waves
I feel no fear as the polar bear swims past me and instead shut my eyes
Surrendering my body to the waves.
********************************************
Another attempt at dream poetry. I try to just word-vomit it out and not edit so that it is expressed in the first words that came to mind. Not sure how valid that way of writing is, but I'm going for it! My dream last night was simply too interesting to me to not write about it in some way. The first part is talking about Mt. Rushmore; I was hiking past it and couldn't even tell that it was Rushmore because the faces had been so weathered. It was a really beautiful image - their faces receding into the mountain. I wish I could share that visual with the class. The rest of the dream was pretty weird too (seals and polar bears in a small mountain lake and me once again being able to stay under water for long amounts of time) but it was an enjoyable dream and I woke up happy. Dreams are sweet.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Because I Love This Class
First of all, I would like to thank each and every one of you for being so open and passionate in your presentations. I was blown away by all of them and had a blast learning about not only the topics, but you as people through them. Our class is composed entirely of brilliant people, and I will never be able to accurately say how grateful I am to have been able to be a part of it. If anyone could start a revolution, it would be the people in that classroom. We could call ourselves "Sexson's Army."
Yasmin - the smile of freedom (I think I illustrate this smile everyday when I get out of my other classes) is such an interesting thing. Smiling in general is; we smile for nearly every emotion we express, even, as was mentioned in your presentation, when we are sad. I was moved by the Mandela clip you showed, baffled by the Mona Lisa, and thoroughly intrigued in your presentation as a whole. It's funny because the first thing I noticed about you was your smile (it is captivating by the way), so how fitting for you to present on them. Thank you.
Katie Chambers - you wrote a beautiful piece on dreaming. My attention was not only captured by your story, but by your presence as you told it. You discussed the violent, erotic, implausible and desiring nature of dreams and ended by saying we should not feel shameful when we wake from them; it is only natural. I'm glad someone said this. Dreams are so interesting and cool and the content of them should not be judged; we can't even control them. One of my favorite HP quotes goes something like "It is your choices more than your abilities that define you" and I think this applies directly to dreaming. We cannot control our dreams, so we should not be defined by them. Rather, we should just appreciate them for what they are: fucking awesome. You may be quiet, but you are a strong and passionate woman Katie. I quite saw that in your presentation. Thank you.
Jonah - in your presentation you said, "Freedom is the act of perception." I have long struggled with figuring out what exactly "freedom" is, but the second you said that everything fell into place. It is something no one can take away (or give) and something internal. It effects everything and also has no effect at all; it is the individual's whole world and nothing to anyone besides them. This falls perfectly in line with what Conchis said: "The better you understand freedom, the less you possess it." We do not own freedom, we simply navigate by it. You had an enthralling presentation filled with many deep points (as always) that allowed me to see just how thoughtful you are; the fact that you still think of the words a homeless man said to you as a child shows how well you think things over. You are so deep and caring Jonah, and this really came through in your presentation. Thank you.
Spencer - you related our mythology class to thermo dynamics while simultaneously involving the class by incorporating our dreams into it. You showed how our class can be used to tap into any subject, which is something that I hope to achieve in my future as a teacher so I found it not only interesting but extremely useful. The world could really benefit from more minds thinking like yours does, but even more so from more people caring enough to act on it. You said you don't want to be a sell-out or work for "the man," but I have no doubts that you won't. Even if you do work for some big oil corporation you will certainly not sell out, but rather change that corporation from the inside out with your ways of thinking. Your presentation showed me how witty and how strong of a leader you are. Thank you.
Alaine - I can't believe I missed the first few minutes of your poem! All I know is that I walked into a room of completely enraptured people and saw a woman speaking beautifully from her soul. I read your full poem on your blog. Many times. Not only is it inspiring in it's form and structure, but also in content. You may be quiet in class, but holy shit you have a lot of big, deep ideas to share with the world. I have no doubts that you will get exactly what you want out of your life. Today you got the sun tarot card, and I just thought it was perfect. You certainly are a beacon of light for all of those around you, and that certainly radiated through your presentation. Thank you.
Katie Neal - you did a great job of constructing the "god game." I was so sure someone would ask the right question and we would figure out who the killer was, and when you revealed that there was no killer I was shocked. But as Sexson would say, "Of course there was no killer." ;) In your presentation I learned that sometimes there is no right question. Sometimes, you do not get the answer you're looking for. This is something I certainly need to take to heart since my tendency is to tear things apart in search of answers, and it often is the case that there is no answer and then I'm just left with a mess. You are such a sharp and observant person, but it is your compassion that stands out the most to me; it is powerful and ever present in your words and I'm glad to have had the chance to witness and be inspired by it. Thank you.
Rose - your presentation was clearly from the heart. I know first hand how difficult it can be to experience depression and also how scary it is to talk about it with others. You did so magnificently though. I wrote down so many of the lines from your paper but your final point left me drop-jawed. "Emotions are the stories in my head," you said. And in that moment I felt something shift inside of me. I hope you realize how beautiful that sentence was Rose. Emotions are the stories in my head. I will never forget that line. I was having a rough day today actually and as my head started to reel I began to feel an anxiety attack coming on. But I told myself that sentence and thought, "These emotions will not kill me. Nor should I be ashamed of them. I should just look at them like a story." And I immediately felt myself calm. You don't give yourself enough credit Rose. You are intelligent and courageous and things may be rough right now, but you are going to be okay. You are too brilliant not to be. I hope you know how much I appreciated your presentation. Thank you.
Joe - well Joe, you may have made me stay late after class, but I wouldn't have chosen to spend that time any other way. You are a volcano of contemplation - exploding in thoughts and ideas - and I don't think I've ever met someone that commits as much energy as you do to exploring them. Your presentation showed how the cycle of reading is the cycle of water is the cycle of life is the cycle of everything. It's hard to write about your presentation since it covered pretty much the whole universe (ha it's funny because you literally did talk about the whole universe..) but it certainly opened my mind to the cycle we are all caught up in. I loved when you said, "Sex is just a really beautiful middle finger to chaos" and when you sang, "Holy water has got nothing on this mud." You are a brilliant ball of energy with a unique perspective and the ability to share it through a variety of mediums. You never cease to amaze me in your ability to get me to see things in a different light. Thank you.
Valerie - my goodness woman, you are an inspiration to all. Your presentation was extremely interesting and gave me my first look into tarot cards, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I had no idea of all the allusions to tarot in The Magus but once you pointed them out the book took on a whole new constantly having to rethink the things you say since they pack such a punch. Your authenticity as a person, strength in convictions, and love for life are unmatched. I hope to emulate each of those traits in my own life and hope you realize what an inspiration you truly are. Thank you.
Matt - your presentation was, of course, fantastic. It's funny because I've been listening to "Godspeed You! Black Emperor" the entire time I've been writing this blog. (I like them by the way, so thanks for introducing them to the class!) I really liked what you had to say about architecture telling our stories. It really does and I've never thought about it, but I've certainly felt it and it was exciting to hear you talk about it and understand what you were getting at. You are so insightful and multifaceted and I am consistently blown away by the things you say. I will never forget the day you talked about Lament of the Dead and said, "Keep telling the story." I've adopted that as a motto for my life. You have such skill as an observer, analyzer, and storyteller. I hope you tell stories your whole life long. You certainly need to get your brilliant thoughts out there somehow. They are too great to go unshared and I'm honored to have been able to be witness to them. Thank you.
Calder - you gave quite the history lesson in your presentation. You posed the question, "Who controls the past" and at that point I had to really stop and think. Who does control the past? What is written in our textbooks is what kids learn and is what they will act off of, thereby controlling the future. We cannot afford to have the control of the past in the wrong hands. You then said the Orwell quote, "Those who control the past control the future, and those who control the present control the past." I'm glad you are studying history Calder. Because if people like you write text books or teach history or write about it or whatever it is you end up doing, you will control the past. And if people like you control our future, then we will all be a-okay. You have a strong presence, a beautiful mind, and are a true craftsman of words and I have loved being able to witness that. Thank you.
Since I will not be here for the last day of presentations I would like to say a bit about the rest of our class as well.
Carol - you have an interesting perspective on things and I am sure your presentation is going to rock. A lot of times in class you say a little sentence that I find myself mulling over for great lengths of time; just when I think I understand something you bring up another aspect and I realize I was only seeing part of the picture. I will never forget the day you read your poem "Too Close" to the class. It was so beautiful and showed me how creative and passionate you are. I have really enjoyed hearing your thoughts and reading your blogs. Thank you.
Brady - I always love it when you speak up in class because I know it's either going to be a funny joke or a deeply insightful thought that you are about to share. I got my first real glimpse into your mind when you wrote your blog/paper on circles, and I've been grateful for that glimpse since. You are gifted in your ability to see more than just the words on the page - to see connections - and I hope to be able to emulate that in my own reading. I've loved getting to hear your insights and originality through both what you say in class and what you blog. You have a wonderful mind. Thank you.
Logan - first of all, you radiate such a positive energy. You also possess a brilliant mind that works in ways my mind can't even fathom, and every time you talk I find myself writing it down so that I can think about it more later. When you did that presentation on the whiteboard about mythology and AI, my mind about exploded - first from all the unfamiliar terms and then from how perfectly you made your point. You are a brilliant man with interests all across the board, which makes you captivating to listen to. Thank you.
Charlie - You are probably the one in the class I have talked the least with, but your presence is always noticed. You have such insight to share and whenever I've talked with you outside of class I instantly feel your compassion and wisdom. I am glad your crazy road trip ended up with you in Bozeman; this community is extremely lucky to have you. I have thoroughly enjoyed hearing your stories and thoughts throughout this semester. Thank you.
Conner - well you aren't really in this class so you don't get a post. Just kidding. The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes. You listen with rapt attention and I can almost see the gears spinning in your brain as you take the time to process each thing that is said. You don't speak up often, but when you do I am consistently jolted by what you have to say. You are passionately curious and gifted in your ability with words (I especially love your poetry) and I am glad that Joe invited you to our class. You truly dance for the sake of dancing Conner. You are genuine and thoughtful and brilliant and I'm so glad you joined our class. Thank you.
And of course.....
Dr. Sexson - you will get a detailed thank you from me later, but I want to congratulate you on creating the ultimate learning environment. I say on a regular basis how thankful I am for having had the opportunity to take this class. And when I think of my future as a teacher you are the role model I hope to imitate. Never before have I had an educational experience as I have had in your classroom. I've felt myself growing and thinking in ways I've never thought to think before and I cannot thank you enough for this. This class has changed my life. It has been a huge part of my apocalypse. And it is all because one man with a twinkle in his eye decided to invest in a group of random college kids. Thank you so much for sharing your mind with us Dr. Sexson. It has been exciting and wonderful and beautiful every step of the way. If you ever want to adopt a grand daughter just let me know;)
Yasmin - the smile of freedom (I think I illustrate this smile everyday when I get out of my other classes) is such an interesting thing. Smiling in general is; we smile for nearly every emotion we express, even, as was mentioned in your presentation, when we are sad. I was moved by the Mandela clip you showed, baffled by the Mona Lisa, and thoroughly intrigued in your presentation as a whole. It's funny because the first thing I noticed about you was your smile (it is captivating by the way), so how fitting for you to present on them. Thank you.
Katie Chambers - you wrote a beautiful piece on dreaming. My attention was not only captured by your story, but by your presence as you told it. You discussed the violent, erotic, implausible and desiring nature of dreams and ended by saying we should not feel shameful when we wake from them; it is only natural. I'm glad someone said this. Dreams are so interesting and cool and the content of them should not be judged; we can't even control them. One of my favorite HP quotes goes something like "It is your choices more than your abilities that define you" and I think this applies directly to dreaming. We cannot control our dreams, so we should not be defined by them. Rather, we should just appreciate them for what they are: fucking awesome. You may be quiet, but you are a strong and passionate woman Katie. I quite saw that in your presentation. Thank you.
Jonah - in your presentation you said, "Freedom is the act of perception." I have long struggled with figuring out what exactly "freedom" is, but the second you said that everything fell into place. It is something no one can take away (or give) and something internal. It effects everything and also has no effect at all; it is the individual's whole world and nothing to anyone besides them. This falls perfectly in line with what Conchis said: "The better you understand freedom, the less you possess it." We do not own freedom, we simply navigate by it. You had an enthralling presentation filled with many deep points (as always) that allowed me to see just how thoughtful you are; the fact that you still think of the words a homeless man said to you as a child shows how well you think things over. You are so deep and caring Jonah, and this really came through in your presentation. Thank you.
Spencer - you related our mythology class to thermo dynamics while simultaneously involving the class by incorporating our dreams into it. You showed how our class can be used to tap into any subject, which is something that I hope to achieve in my future as a teacher so I found it not only interesting but extremely useful. The world could really benefit from more minds thinking like yours does, but even more so from more people caring enough to act on it. You said you don't want to be a sell-out or work for "the man," but I have no doubts that you won't. Even if you do work for some big oil corporation you will certainly not sell out, but rather change that corporation from the inside out with your ways of thinking. Your presentation showed me how witty and how strong of a leader you are. Thank you.
Alaine - I can't believe I missed the first few minutes of your poem! All I know is that I walked into a room of completely enraptured people and saw a woman speaking beautifully from her soul. I read your full poem on your blog. Many times. Not only is it inspiring in it's form and structure, but also in content. You may be quiet in class, but holy shit you have a lot of big, deep ideas to share with the world. I have no doubts that you will get exactly what you want out of your life. Today you got the sun tarot card, and I just thought it was perfect. You certainly are a beacon of light for all of those around you, and that certainly radiated through your presentation. Thank you.
Katie Neal - you did a great job of constructing the "god game." I was so sure someone would ask the right question and we would figure out who the killer was, and when you revealed that there was no killer I was shocked. But as Sexson would say, "Of course there was no killer." ;) In your presentation I learned that sometimes there is no right question. Sometimes, you do not get the answer you're looking for. This is something I certainly need to take to heart since my tendency is to tear things apart in search of answers, and it often is the case that there is no answer and then I'm just left with a mess. You are such a sharp and observant person, but it is your compassion that stands out the most to me; it is powerful and ever present in your words and I'm glad to have had the chance to witness and be inspired by it. Thank you.
Rose - your presentation was clearly from the heart. I know first hand how difficult it can be to experience depression and also how scary it is to talk about it with others. You did so magnificently though. I wrote down so many of the lines from your paper but your final point left me drop-jawed. "Emotions are the stories in my head," you said. And in that moment I felt something shift inside of me. I hope you realize how beautiful that sentence was Rose. Emotions are the stories in my head. I will never forget that line. I was having a rough day today actually and as my head started to reel I began to feel an anxiety attack coming on. But I told myself that sentence and thought, "These emotions will not kill me. Nor should I be ashamed of them. I should just look at them like a story." And I immediately felt myself calm. You don't give yourself enough credit Rose. You are intelligent and courageous and things may be rough right now, but you are going to be okay. You are too brilliant not to be. I hope you know how much I appreciated your presentation. Thank you.
Joe - well Joe, you may have made me stay late after class, but I wouldn't have chosen to spend that time any other way. You are a volcano of contemplation - exploding in thoughts and ideas - and I don't think I've ever met someone that commits as much energy as you do to exploring them. Your presentation showed how the cycle of reading is the cycle of water is the cycle of life is the cycle of everything. It's hard to write about your presentation since it covered pretty much the whole universe (ha it's funny because you literally did talk about the whole universe..) but it certainly opened my mind to the cycle we are all caught up in. I loved when you said, "Sex is just a really beautiful middle finger to chaos" and when you sang, "Holy water has got nothing on this mud." You are a brilliant ball of energy with a unique perspective and the ability to share it through a variety of mediums. You never cease to amaze me in your ability to get me to see things in a different light. Thank you.
Valerie - my goodness woman, you are an inspiration to all. Your presentation was extremely interesting and gave me my first look into tarot cards, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I had no idea of all the allusions to tarot in The Magus but once you pointed them out the book took on a whole new constantly having to rethink the things you say since they pack such a punch. Your authenticity as a person, strength in convictions, and love for life are unmatched. I hope to emulate each of those traits in my own life and hope you realize what an inspiration you truly are. Thank you.
Matt - your presentation was, of course, fantastic. It's funny because I've been listening to "Godspeed You! Black Emperor" the entire time I've been writing this blog. (I like them by the way, so thanks for introducing them to the class!) I really liked what you had to say about architecture telling our stories. It really does and I've never thought about it, but I've certainly felt it and it was exciting to hear you talk about it and understand what you were getting at. You are so insightful and multifaceted and I am consistently blown away by the things you say. I will never forget the day you talked about Lament of the Dead and said, "Keep telling the story." I've adopted that as a motto for my life. You have such skill as an observer, analyzer, and storyteller. I hope you tell stories your whole life long. You certainly need to get your brilliant thoughts out there somehow. They are too great to go unshared and I'm honored to have been able to be witness to them. Thank you.
Calder - you gave quite the history lesson in your presentation. You posed the question, "Who controls the past" and at that point I had to really stop and think. Who does control the past? What is written in our textbooks is what kids learn and is what they will act off of, thereby controlling the future. We cannot afford to have the control of the past in the wrong hands. You then said the Orwell quote, "Those who control the past control the future, and those who control the present control the past." I'm glad you are studying history Calder. Because if people like you write text books or teach history or write about it or whatever it is you end up doing, you will control the past. And if people like you control our future, then we will all be a-okay. You have a strong presence, a beautiful mind, and are a true craftsman of words and I have loved being able to witness that. Thank you.
Since I will not be here for the last day of presentations I would like to say a bit about the rest of our class as well.
Carol - you have an interesting perspective on things and I am sure your presentation is going to rock. A lot of times in class you say a little sentence that I find myself mulling over for great lengths of time; just when I think I understand something you bring up another aspect and I realize I was only seeing part of the picture. I will never forget the day you read your poem "Too Close" to the class. It was so beautiful and showed me how creative and passionate you are. I have really enjoyed hearing your thoughts and reading your blogs. Thank you.
Brady - I always love it when you speak up in class because I know it's either going to be a funny joke or a deeply insightful thought that you are about to share. I got my first real glimpse into your mind when you wrote your blog/paper on circles, and I've been grateful for that glimpse since. You are gifted in your ability to see more than just the words on the page - to see connections - and I hope to be able to emulate that in my own reading. I've loved getting to hear your insights and originality through both what you say in class and what you blog. You have a wonderful mind. Thank you.
Logan - first of all, you radiate such a positive energy. You also possess a brilliant mind that works in ways my mind can't even fathom, and every time you talk I find myself writing it down so that I can think about it more later. When you did that presentation on the whiteboard about mythology and AI, my mind about exploded - first from all the unfamiliar terms and then from how perfectly you made your point. You are a brilliant man with interests all across the board, which makes you captivating to listen to. Thank you.
Charlie - You are probably the one in the class I have talked the least with, but your presence is always noticed. You have such insight to share and whenever I've talked with you outside of class I instantly feel your compassion and wisdom. I am glad your crazy road trip ended up with you in Bozeman; this community is extremely lucky to have you. I have thoroughly enjoyed hearing your stories and thoughts throughout this semester. Thank you.
Conner - well you aren't really in this class so you don't get a post. Just kidding. The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes. You listen with rapt attention and I can almost see the gears spinning in your brain as you take the time to process each thing that is said. You don't speak up often, but when you do I am consistently jolted by what you have to say. You are passionately curious and gifted in your ability with words (I especially love your poetry) and I am glad that Joe invited you to our class. You truly dance for the sake of dancing Conner. You are genuine and thoughtful and brilliant and I'm so glad you joined our class. Thank you.
And of course.....
Dr. Sexson - you will get a detailed thank you from me later, but I want to congratulate you on creating the ultimate learning environment. I say on a regular basis how thankful I am for having had the opportunity to take this class. And when I think of my future as a teacher you are the role model I hope to imitate. Never before have I had an educational experience as I have had in your classroom. I've felt myself growing and thinking in ways I've never thought to think before and I cannot thank you enough for this. This class has changed my life. It has been a huge part of my apocalypse. And it is all because one man with a twinkle in his eye decided to invest in a group of random college kids. Thank you so much for sharing your mind with us Dr. Sexson. It has been exciting and wonderful and beautiful every step of the way. If you ever want to adopt a grand daughter just let me know;)
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Talk Dreamy to Me.
Children speak in the language of dreams.
Let me illustrate this with an example:
I help with the youth program at the rock climbing gym in town occasionally, and the other day I was helping a 5 year old boy harness up and prepare to climb. I was wearing my favorite winter hat - a thick knit hat I got when in NYC last winter - to which he pointed and said, "It looks like shrimp."
I took my hat off and held it in my hand as I inspected it: cream, tan, and salmon pink. Shrimp? Well, yes. It did quite resemble the coloring of a shrimp. "You know, it does kinda look like a shrimp doesn't it?" I replied.
As I have said before, I grew up in a rigidly Catholic house. Because of this, I am quite familiar with stories from the bible. I remember being a child and hearing the stories in which Jesus praises children - saying how everyone should view the world as children do and that whoever is like a child will have a place in his kingdom. Hearing those as a child I would think it meant that we were younger and therefore more innocent and that was why we got priority. As I grew older I stopped thinking about those parables as much; I was older and tainted and no longer had whatever childish qualities would get me through the pearly gates. However, I think I'm starting to understand them. I won't pretend to know what Jesus meant, but I know what it means to me to think like a child; it means to dream. Always.
We are told that as we age we become less imaginative due to the acceptance of certain social mythologies and the more restricted use of our minds. I'm proposing something else though. I think we are simply taught to repress it; we don't lose any of our imaginative capacity, it just manifests itself in our dreams and creative outlets rather than being present across every aspect of our lives. Give a child some free time and she will gather all her dolls and stuffed animals for a make-believe tea party complete with wizards and mermaids, but give an adult some free time and she will find a less-imaginative task to occupy it. Maybe she will cook or watch tv or read or clean or do homework. The difference is that as we get older we have a large number of tasks added to our "to-do list" and we use our time to do them rather than to completely invent a task. This isn't bad nor am I trying to say that all adults completely restrict their imagination (if we did we wouldn't have books or art or science or anything really), it's just saying that in many moments we keep our lives strictly about the task at hand.
Children, on the other hand, let their imagination bleed into everything; they have no separate forms of thinking so it all mashes together. I worked at a learning center this last summer where I had my own class of 24 3rd graders. When I think back to myself at 3rd grade I remember a silly looking ginger who sang with all her might. That's all. But being around these kids made me remember something else about my past self - my perception. I can't channel the lens through which I then viewed the world and remember it in entirety, but I do remember thinking in different patterns. Everyone knows that "kids say the darndest things," but I think it can be attributed to them experiencing everything with a raw mind. As adults we often perceive things with our emotions first or only pay attention to what directly pertains to ourselves, but in dreams we are whisked away into a world where we notice all sorts of details and encounter implausible (and erotic, desiring, and violent) scenarios. And we experience it all with our mind fully open.
Kids do this all the time.
It's funny, because we have a lot to learn from kids, but what we have to learn from them is not something they are even aware of, and for them to become aware of it would be for them to cease in doing it. We can only teach ourselves. I do think it is a lesson worth learning though. For the language of dreams is most beautiful indeed.
Let me illustrate this with an example:
I help with the youth program at the rock climbing gym in town occasionally, and the other day I was helping a 5 year old boy harness up and prepare to climb. I was wearing my favorite winter hat - a thick knit hat I got when in NYC last winter - to which he pointed and said, "It looks like shrimp."
I took my hat off and held it in my hand as I inspected it: cream, tan, and salmon pink. Shrimp? Well, yes. It did quite resemble the coloring of a shrimp. "You know, it does kinda look like a shrimp doesn't it?" I replied.
As I have said before, I grew up in a rigidly Catholic house. Because of this, I am quite familiar with stories from the bible. I remember being a child and hearing the stories in which Jesus praises children - saying how everyone should view the world as children do and that whoever is like a child will have a place in his kingdom. Hearing those as a child I would think it meant that we were younger and therefore more innocent and that was why we got priority. As I grew older I stopped thinking about those parables as much; I was older and tainted and no longer had whatever childish qualities would get me through the pearly gates. However, I think I'm starting to understand them. I won't pretend to know what Jesus meant, but I know what it means to me to think like a child; it means to dream. Always.
We are told that as we age we become less imaginative due to the acceptance of certain social mythologies and the more restricted use of our minds. I'm proposing something else though. I think we are simply taught to repress it; we don't lose any of our imaginative capacity, it just manifests itself in our dreams and creative outlets rather than being present across every aspect of our lives. Give a child some free time and she will gather all her dolls and stuffed animals for a make-believe tea party complete with wizards and mermaids, but give an adult some free time and she will find a less-imaginative task to occupy it. Maybe she will cook or watch tv or read or clean or do homework. The difference is that as we get older we have a large number of tasks added to our "to-do list" and we use our time to do them rather than to completely invent a task. This isn't bad nor am I trying to say that all adults completely restrict their imagination (if we did we wouldn't have books or art or science or anything really), it's just saying that in many moments we keep our lives strictly about the task at hand.
Children, on the other hand, let their imagination bleed into everything; they have no separate forms of thinking so it all mashes together. I worked at a learning center this last summer where I had my own class of 24 3rd graders. When I think back to myself at 3rd grade I remember a silly looking ginger who sang with all her might. That's all. But being around these kids made me remember something else about my past self - my perception. I can't channel the lens through which I then viewed the world and remember it in entirety, but I do remember thinking in different patterns. Everyone knows that "kids say the darndest things," but I think it can be attributed to them experiencing everything with a raw mind. As adults we often perceive things with our emotions first or only pay attention to what directly pertains to ourselves, but in dreams we are whisked away into a world where we notice all sorts of details and encounter implausible (and erotic, desiring, and violent) scenarios. And we experience it all with our mind fully open.
Kids do this all the time.
It's funny, because we have a lot to learn from kids, but what we have to learn from them is not something they are even aware of, and for them to become aware of it would be for them to cease in doing it. We can only teach ourselves. I do think it is a lesson worth learning though. For the language of dreams is most beautiful indeed.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Time
Time is a peculiar little thing. It is something we use to construct our daily routines and our long term goals. It is the common ground on which we operate and dictates in what order and with what frequency we do tasks. But why does it seem so distant at times? Why does it sometimes seem to rush by and other times seem to drag on? Why does it sometimes disappear from our minds altogether?
Time is a physical thing. The only reason "time" and "timing" and "scheduling" and the like matter is because our bodies function according to it; every so often we must eat, sleep, breathe, blink, etc. Our bodies need this regular scheduling of things to survive. Our minds, however, function quite differently.
Our minds don't need to eat or drink or sleep (seriously - we dream) or any of that; they work entirely separately from this entity of "time" that we've created. And because of this, because our deepest core of self - the mechanism by which we view and process the world - does not function according to any clock, we experience these expansions and contractions of "time." Things last longer or shorter based on how our mind is functioning at the moment. If our mind is engaged and rapidly working or running smoothly - that is either working excitedly or fluidly - we don't have gaps or jolts in our thinking that disrupt our thoughts and make it seem like whatever is happening is happening slowly. Compare this to when we aren't consumed with what we are doing and therefore notice the factor of "time."
I'm not sure if this is making sense. It's something Joe and I discussed briefly and I am entertained by it. It's a parallel to what Rose said her therapist said about her feelings, "Will these feelings kill you?" - "Will time kill you?" No; going through actions slowly or quickly doesn't matter. We cannot think of our time on earth as the type of time that is kept on a clock, because that is only how our bodies function, not the rest of our beings.
Joe said, "Sometimes I am just so happy doing something and just having a great time and then am taken from it by an obligation to do something else. And sometimes I just wanna forget that something else and just stay doing what I am doing until I'm ready to not do it anymore." What an interesting world this would be. Where we would do things as we felt we wanted to. Where you would miss class to sit on the steps of Montana Hall and soak in the sun if it felt good to. Where you would show up late to a meeting because it felt good to enjoy your morning coffee in the silence of your apartment and you weren't ready to leave that moment yet. Where your fingertips could forever rest in the palm of his hand.
Joe said, "Sometimes I am just so happy doing something and just having a great time and then am taken from it by an obligation to do something else. And sometimes I just wanna forget that something else and just stay doing what I am doing until I'm ready to not do it anymore." What an interesting world this would be. Where we would do things as we felt we wanted to. Where you would miss class to sit on the steps of Montana Hall and soak in the sun if it felt good to. Where you would show up late to a meeting because it felt good to enjoy your morning coffee in the silence of your apartment and you weren't ready to leave that moment yet. Where your fingertips could forever rest in the palm of his hand.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Naked
The other day I was talking with a long time friend. I was stressed and joked about quitting school to which he replied, "Then what would you do?" And, in a more serious answer than you would think, I said, "Probably run around naked in the woods." We laughed about this and the conversation moved on. However, it doesn't sound half bad to me - living naked in the woods. I spend every spare second I have putting as much distance between me and, well, everything else.
It all started with an apple. Eve just had to eat it and screw us all over, right? It wasn't until this year that I began to actually understand the forbidden fruit story, but it makes sense now. What was the first thing they noticed after eating of the fruit? Their nakedness. And I think this is both a literal and metaphorical thing. Because honestly- why do we need clothes? Of course in the winter it makes sense, but most of the time it just seems like a silly social construction. As for the metaphor - they noticed their ignorance and were plagued with the desire to know rather than just participate. I spend so much of my time actively working to participate rather than know because it feels right. And it makes sense - because Eve had to eat that damn apple, it is now against instinct to not question everything.
What a lot of our presentations/class talks have addressed is the idea of finding one's true self by stripping away all the other "stuff" that is in the way. Is it not ironic that, while Adam and Eve's first action was to cover themselves, we are forever destined to, in this metaphorical sense, try and get naked?
Conner's blog talks about love and complete surrender. Which reminds me of the Louise Erdich quote I used in my presentation that contained the line, "You are here to be swallowed up." It makes sense. We are here to be completely used and then we die. By the end of life, you should be able to look back and think "I used everything I had. And the universe therefore used every part of me." This is similar to when I'm coaching rock climbing; when one of my kids is hesitant to make a move on a route I always encourage them to just go for it - worst case scenario is that they miss the move and end up hanging there by the rope. And being as it is totally safe, there is no risk. Life requires that we give our all. We don't need any extra "self" after we die, so why not just leave it all on the court? And to circle back to Conner's blog; this is true of love as well. You may be the "safe" one if you are loving the lesser amount, but are you actually participating in the love at all? Are your actions based off of feelings? Or are they based off of what you know?
A combination of events has led me to be simultaneously terrified, skeptical, and yet very desiring of love. I love love. I love loving and feeling the high that comes from a complete surrender; from being completely swallowed up. But the fall is real. There is no rope. So is it worth it?
My answer: yes. Always. Because even if you are rejected, you are at least naked. You may have your heart broken, but you can handle it. Everyone can and most have to at at least one point in their life. And when you are sitting there, distraught and feeling really really shitty (because let's face it - it's no fun), you will look into the mirror and see only yourself. Naked. And what a great place to start from. The homeless man Jonah met talked of rebuilding his shelter every night. Every night. If he can start from scratch each morning, I'm sure each and every one of you can do it a few times throughout your lives.
It all started with an apple. Eve just had to eat it and screw us all over, right? It wasn't until this year that I began to actually understand the forbidden fruit story, but it makes sense now. What was the first thing they noticed after eating of the fruit? Their nakedness. And I think this is both a literal and metaphorical thing. Because honestly- why do we need clothes? Of course in the winter it makes sense, but most of the time it just seems like a silly social construction. As for the metaphor - they noticed their ignorance and were plagued with the desire to know rather than just participate. I spend so much of my time actively working to participate rather than know because it feels right. And it makes sense - because Eve had to eat that damn apple, it is now against instinct to not question everything.
What a lot of our presentations/class talks have addressed is the idea of finding one's true self by stripping away all the other "stuff" that is in the way. Is it not ironic that, while Adam and Eve's first action was to cover themselves, we are forever destined to, in this metaphorical sense, try and get naked?
Conner's blog talks about love and complete surrender. Which reminds me of the Louise Erdich quote I used in my presentation that contained the line, "You are here to be swallowed up." It makes sense. We are here to be completely used and then we die. By the end of life, you should be able to look back and think "I used everything I had. And the universe therefore used every part of me." This is similar to when I'm coaching rock climbing; when one of my kids is hesitant to make a move on a route I always encourage them to just go for it - worst case scenario is that they miss the move and end up hanging there by the rope. And being as it is totally safe, there is no risk. Life requires that we give our all. We don't need any extra "self" after we die, so why not just leave it all on the court? And to circle back to Conner's blog; this is true of love as well. You may be the "safe" one if you are loving the lesser amount, but are you actually participating in the love at all? Are your actions based off of feelings? Or are they based off of what you know?
A combination of events has led me to be simultaneously terrified, skeptical, and yet very desiring of love. I love love. I love loving and feeling the high that comes from a complete surrender; from being completely swallowed up. But the fall is real. There is no rope. So is it worth it?
My answer: yes. Always. Because even if you are rejected, you are at least naked. You may have your heart broken, but you can handle it. Everyone can and most have to at at least one point in their life. And when you are sitting there, distraught and feeling really really shitty (because let's face it - it's no fun), you will look into the mirror and see only yourself. Naked. And what a great place to start from. The homeless man Jonah met talked of rebuilding his shelter every night. Every night. If he can start from scratch each morning, I'm sure each and every one of you can do it a few times throughout your lives.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Arcadia + Today's Presentations
I would like to start by looking at a couple quotes from Arcadia that caught my ear as they were said:
The second quote I quite liked. There may never be an answer, but wanting to know about things makes us who we are. I am curious as to the limits of my physical and mental strength and therefore engage in activities like backpacking and climbing; my sister is curious about how things work and devotes her life to her job as an electrical engineer. Wanting to know makes us us.
Today's presentations also brought some thoughts to my mind. Jonah spoke on freedom, basing his presentation on the The Magus quote "The better you understand freedom the less you possess it." I think it is a great quote; as Jonah said, "Freedom is the act of perception." As soon as you realize this, you realize that freedom is not something that can be possessed; it is something that exists separately from ourselves yet very much within. We all have access to it, but no one is capable of owning it. It is how we look at the "Mona Lisa" and are able to say such contrasting things as, "She looks like she is smiling" as opposed to "She looks sad." It is what enables us to make judgments or decisions, and it is not reserved for Americans or the wealthy or any of that; it is that thing in each of our minds that is with us everywhere we go allowing us to decide what to think and how to react. No government could give us freedom. Nor could any government take it away. What a thought.
I also liked the Conchis quote brought up in class today, "You wish to be liked. I wish simply to be." I think the goal in life (or at least at the stage I am at) is to wish simply to be. Independent of what anyone else thinks or says or does, we need to find out how to be happy just being.
At one point in Katie's presentation, Dr. Sexson brought up the distinction between waking up from a dream versus waking up with a dream. I think this is an important distinction to make being as we spend a large amount of our time in the dream state, and dreams are crazy and absurd and intense. And when things make you feel like that, it's typically a pretty big deal. I have vivid, intense, detailed, action-packed dreams every night. And 95% of the time I remember them. Often I feel the urge to call a person who was in my dream to tell them about it, but when I talk about my dreams to most people I am told, "Oh it was just a dream" and the conversation switches topics. Yes, I know dreams are in our minds and all that, but does that really make them negligible? Dreams are freakin awesome! Most of the time I would much rather hear about someone's absurd dream than about what they actually did in their day. And if our dreams include eroticism or desire of violence or the improbable? Who cares - those are the things that make life interesting; they add a contrast to what we consider appropriate lifestyles. It's like watching a scary movie; the odds are you will never be chased down by a serial killer, but you might as well enjoy the excitement and dread that you get second-hand from the movie. It seems like dreams are where we are most consistently creative and interesting. It seems like they should be given more credit than they are. In honor of Sexson informing the class that Yates said he writes his poetry by simply rearranging dreams, I am going to try writing a poem of a dream I recently had that keeps bouncing around in my mind. Here goes:
In the field behind the farm house,
They made a line of painted glass
Hundreds of hands hurried to grasp
their own; a new addition to each front door.
But one stood back, watching the crowd from a distance
how they scrambled amid the madness
clawing at their neighbors, friends, loved ones
All for a piece of glass.
The feeding frenzy ended,
each clutching their own
and suddenly - stillness.
What were they to do now
that all the glass was gone?
"Bury it!" one yelled, his piece thrust high above his head
And cheers roared all around
As they fought for soil to make a bed
Their precious glass,
swaddled up and buried deep
Finally they could rest.
"Oh no" one girl mumbled
dirt and sadness streaked across her face
"I buried mine without wrapping it first"
her words met with looks of disdain.
They all knew that the spade
would sink through the dirt with ease
and slice straight through her painted glass
she sunk down to her knees
Murmurs all around her confirmed what she knew to be true
The glass was gone forever.
There was nothing she could do.
The one that stood at a distance
came to offer a comforting hand
But was turned away in disgust
for he "didn't understand"
Well. That was interesting. I think I like writing like that... Poetry allows for "holes" or disconnects, which dreams have an abundance of, so it kind of works to transcribe a dream into poem form. Obviously not the greatest poem ever, but I think I will try this again. I quite enjoyed it.
"It can't prove to be true; it can only prove to be not false yet"
"It's wanting to know that makes us matter"The first quote struck me in its accuracy. I like stable and secure things and am slowly starting to realize that nothing of our world is stable or secure; we have only ourselves. And this quote is saying exactly that.
The second quote I quite liked. There may never be an answer, but wanting to know about things makes us who we are. I am curious as to the limits of my physical and mental strength and therefore engage in activities like backpacking and climbing; my sister is curious about how things work and devotes her life to her job as an electrical engineer. Wanting to know makes us us.
Today's presentations also brought some thoughts to my mind. Jonah spoke on freedom, basing his presentation on the The Magus quote "The better you understand freedom the less you possess it." I think it is a great quote; as Jonah said, "Freedom is the act of perception." As soon as you realize this, you realize that freedom is not something that can be possessed; it is something that exists separately from ourselves yet very much within. We all have access to it, but no one is capable of owning it. It is how we look at the "Mona Lisa" and are able to say such contrasting things as, "She looks like she is smiling" as opposed to "She looks sad." It is what enables us to make judgments or decisions, and it is not reserved for Americans or the wealthy or any of that; it is that thing in each of our minds that is with us everywhere we go allowing us to decide what to think and how to react. No government could give us freedom. Nor could any government take it away. What a thought.
I also liked the Conchis quote brought up in class today, "You wish to be liked. I wish simply to be." I think the goal in life (or at least at the stage I am at) is to wish simply to be. Independent of what anyone else thinks or says or does, we need to find out how to be happy just being.
At one point in Katie's presentation, Dr. Sexson brought up the distinction between waking up from a dream versus waking up with a dream. I think this is an important distinction to make being as we spend a large amount of our time in the dream state, and dreams are crazy and absurd and intense. And when things make you feel like that, it's typically a pretty big deal. I have vivid, intense, detailed, action-packed dreams every night. And 95% of the time I remember them. Often I feel the urge to call a person who was in my dream to tell them about it, but when I talk about my dreams to most people I am told, "Oh it was just a dream" and the conversation switches topics. Yes, I know dreams are in our minds and all that, but does that really make them negligible? Dreams are freakin awesome! Most of the time I would much rather hear about someone's absurd dream than about what they actually did in their day. And if our dreams include eroticism or desire of violence or the improbable? Who cares - those are the things that make life interesting; they add a contrast to what we consider appropriate lifestyles. It's like watching a scary movie; the odds are you will never be chased down by a serial killer, but you might as well enjoy the excitement and dread that you get second-hand from the movie. It seems like dreams are where we are most consistently creative and interesting. It seems like they should be given more credit than they are. In honor of Sexson informing the class that Yates said he writes his poetry by simply rearranging dreams, I am going to try writing a poem of a dream I recently had that keeps bouncing around in my mind. Here goes:
In the field behind the farm house,
They made a line of painted glass
Hundreds of hands hurried to grasp
their own; a new addition to each front door.
But one stood back, watching the crowd from a distance
how they scrambled amid the madness
clawing at their neighbors, friends, loved ones
All for a piece of glass.
The feeding frenzy ended,
each clutching their own
and suddenly - stillness.
What were they to do now
that all the glass was gone?
"Bury it!" one yelled, his piece thrust high above his head
And cheers roared all around
As they fought for soil to make a bed
Their precious glass,
swaddled up and buried deep
Finally they could rest.
"Oh no" one girl mumbled
dirt and sadness streaked across her face
"I buried mine without wrapping it first"
her words met with looks of disdain.
They all knew that the spade
would sink through the dirt with ease
and slice straight through her painted glass
she sunk down to her knees
Murmurs all around her confirmed what she knew to be true
The glass was gone forever.
There was nothing she could do.
The one that stood at a distance
came to offer a comforting hand
But was turned away in disgust
for he "didn't understand"
Well. That was interesting. I think I like writing like that... Poetry allows for "holes" or disconnects, which dreams have an abundance of, so it kind of works to transcribe a dream into poem form. Obviously not the greatest poem ever, but I think I will try this again. I quite enjoyed it.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Dance for the Sake of Dancing
I'm working on a story right now. It isn't anything big and it isn't a piece I will try to have published, but I'm very motivated by it because it is a story of a difficult time in my life and it is the first I have written about it. For the period if its duration I hardly wrote at all, which is quite odd being as I have written (as in creative writing done for pleasure not school) daily since the second grade. Being as I think it pertains, I am going to insert an excerpt from that story here:
I bring this up because over the last year or so I have realized my main problem stems from me being a perfectionist and always having certain marks to measure up to; rather than working for the sake of doing the work, I was working to achieve some new level of "success." And as soon as I reached it I would set my sites on the next level, perpetuating the cycle of dissatisfaction.
But I have recently learned to, as I initially referred to it, "be selfish." I have learned that happiness occurs when you are doing what you enjoy simply because you enjoy it. This means when I am out climbing I don't look at the grade of the climb, I just give it my best and have fun exploring the route. This means if I am writing, I do so because it just feels good to - not to try and get published. And this means I dance - white girl moves and all - purely for the sake of dancing.
I know I am young. I know I am still fighting this battle. But I also know that we are capable of rewiring our brains. It seems scary and time-consuming and like it may not even work. I know this. But I also know it is worth it to invest in yourself by doing what it takes to make the most out of your life. If there is anything I could possibly share with anyone, it is this idea - that we must do what we do for the sake of doing it.
"The trail is the thing. Not the end of the trail. Travel too fast and you will miss all that you are travelling for."
"There was a time, quite a long time, when sleep was the best part of my life. I was incurably unhappy and it offered an escape; a few hours each day when I could just let go of everything and be free. I could melt away into the darkness and just be. And in those hours- it didn't hurt.
For a long time, I struggled with anxiety and depression. Sometimes I am still hit by a random panic attack and thrown straight back into that place of helplessness and doubt. That is the worst part of it - the doubt. When I am in the middle of a panic attack my mind works at about a million miles an hour to explore the worst possible scenarios. And being as I have zero confidence in those moments, I start to believe it. But the most bizarre part of it all is that there seems to be a part of my mind that is completely separate and unaffected, and it just sits there watching me freak out saying, "Brooke. This is silly. You have no reason to think that. Just calm down."That was before I got bad.When I got bad, I lost the ability to sleep. I would have moments of darkness midst a night spent wrestling with my problems in bed. I’d watch the clock flicker to 7:00 am and then sit up in bed, feeling the immense weight on my shoulders, as I tried carrying on as though nothing was out of the norm. Whatever that meant.The combination of sleep deprivation and my already unstable mental health lead me to take up a permanent residence on “the edge.”I lived my life with a lump in my throat. I knew how fragile I was – how thin the strings were that held me together – and constantly feared something deviating from the plan. Because any time it did, my throat would swell up just a millimeter further and the tears would begin.Then my breathing would get ragged. And as I struggled to get air, I would feel my face go numb.And at that point there was no recovering.I would end up curled up, my hands hugging my knees to my chest, on the floor as I felt my body shake violently. I sobbed uncontrollably during these moments. Even when my mind said, “It’s not that big of a deal, it’s okay” my body continued to be broken down.Sometime between 30 minutes and an hour later I would be done. Still on the floor, I would lay prostrate- my breathing shallow and quiet, my eyes swollen and glazed over, all of me thoroughly exhausted. And I would think of nothing except what was in my immediate line of sight, “That door must have 10 layers of paint on it... look at how the paint has pooled around the edges...”
I bring this up because over the last year or so I have realized my main problem stems from me being a perfectionist and always having certain marks to measure up to; rather than working for the sake of doing the work, I was working to achieve some new level of "success." And as soon as I reached it I would set my sites on the next level, perpetuating the cycle of dissatisfaction.
But I have recently learned to, as I initially referred to it, "be selfish." I have learned that happiness occurs when you are doing what you enjoy simply because you enjoy it. This means when I am out climbing I don't look at the grade of the climb, I just give it my best and have fun exploring the route. This means if I am writing, I do so because it just feels good to - not to try and get published. And this means I dance - white girl moves and all - purely for the sake of dancing.
I know I am young. I know I am still fighting this battle. But I also know that we are capable of rewiring our brains. It seems scary and time-consuming and like it may not even work. I know this. But I also know it is worth it to invest in yourself by doing what it takes to make the most out of your life. If there is anything I could possibly share with anyone, it is this idea - that we must do what we do for the sake of doing it.
"The trail is the thing. Not the end of the trail. Travel too fast and you will miss all that you are travelling for."
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
WATCH THIS!!!! Seriously. Do it.
Okay, so I like to start my day by either reading, watching National Geographic, or listening to a TEDtalk. Today I decided on a TEDtalk and holy cow am I happy I did!! This video is fantastic and I would highly recommend watching it. It's only 12 minutes. And he's not only insightful, but also hilarious.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLJsdqxnZb0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLJsdqxnZb0
Monday, November 4, 2013
I'll Miss You Gravity.
I think I stopped believing in science - in rules that are true through everything. And it really sucks. Because I love physics. But I just cannot understand how a world could contain both science and complete randomocity as well. But hey- I guess the universe is vast. It contains multitudes and has room to contradict itself, eh?
I always wanted to be a detective. It started at the dentist's office with those good old "Highlight" magazines. You know what I'm talking about - the BEST MAGAZINE EVER which contained a picture search. Well, I rocked at those. Not to brag, but I was a pretty big deal in those waiting rooms. I could find all the hidden images in a couple minutes tops.
I always wanted to be a detective. It started at the dentist's office with those good old "Highlight" magazines. You know what I'm talking about - the BEST MAGAZINE EVER which contained a picture search. Well, I rocked at those. Not to brag, but I was a pretty big deal in those waiting rooms. I could find all the hidden images in a couple minutes tops.
I figured that being good at a picture search was enough to make me a good detective and so I set my sites on it. I grew up watching CSI and Law & Order (SVU, of course). I hate big towns and being around large crowds, but by age 13 I had decided to move to LA or Vegas so I could pursue my dream in an area where crime actually existed (it's hard to commit a crime in a town like Cottonwood, ID). But the more I thought about it, the less I wanted to actually solve crime; I did not want to be surrounded by that tragedy and negativity all the time (call me a girl, but I can't compartmentalize for the life of me). What I wanted was to identify patterns and use them to navigate through life. I like patterns and organization and rules. They give me standards by which I can operate.
But it turns out, there are some things that no amount of rules or theories can neither prepare you for nor guide you through. The main thing being the mind you possess. It's funny really. I lived my whole life thinking I at least had control over my own mind only to discover that I don't. I'm sure some part of me, somewhere, exercises control. Who else could be in control? But I must be terribly out-of-touch with that part of me. Because I am constantly surprised by my reactions and thoughts. And that seems like something that I should probably have a better grip on.
But it turns out, there are some things that no amount of rules or theories can neither prepare you for nor guide you through. The main thing being the mind you possess. It's funny really. I lived my whole life thinking I at least had control over my own mind only to discover that I don't. I'm sure some part of me, somewhere, exercises control. Who else could be in control? But I must be terribly out-of-touch with that part of me. Because I am constantly surprised by my reactions and thoughts. And that seems like something that I should probably have a better grip on.
Or maybe the pattern is just too complex for me to see. What would happen if I figured it out? What would happen if we discovered an algorithm that allowed us to predict what our reactions would be? Would our reactions even have significance at that point? Or would significance then be found in our observance of the algorithm at work? I'm not sure. I am sure that I'm over thinking things. And not making much sense. But if my head is a house filled with doors, it must also be booby trapped. Because lately it seems like I am hanging by one ankle in the middle of a hallway - neither making progress nor accurately assessing where I currently am. And I don't think it matters. I don't think there is a single statement someone could say to me that I could fully identify with or validate in any way. And I truly don't think that is a reason for concern.
But it's okay. Because entropy. Or questions. Or zebra. Or toaster oven. Because it's always okay. For no apparent reason, it just is.
But it's okay. Because entropy. Or questions. Or zebra. Or toaster oven. Because it's always okay. For no apparent reason, it just is.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Keep Telling the Story
The other day in class Matt gave an outstanding presentation on The Lament of the Dead. One of the first things Matt said was, "You aren't the center of anything, you have to somehow connect with those that came before you."
I wrote this down the instant he said it - before I had even processed it. And when the meaning of this statement hit me, I felt something click: something I didn't know I had been searching for, but the second I found it I knew it was what I needed.
When you ask someone what they want to be when they grow up the answer varies; some say "doctor" and others say "teacher" and others say "mechanic." We all choose different things. But no matter what people want to be, they all want to be it in the same manner: happily. One of the biggest problems with our current system of education is that kids are taught how to pass tests and get into college, but they aren't taught skills that will directly foster their happiness; we need to teach kids how to accept criticism and how to be thoughtful, responsible beings and how to properly think through problems they encounter (not just math problems, but life problems).
We aren't the center of anything. We must connect with our predecessors and use what they found out to direct our own searches. If we ignore what previous generations found out we are putting ourselves at an extreme disadvantage; we make more work for ourselves in trying to find things out. But it isn't just that. We need to connect. And the people that came before us are not out of reach. We may not be able to communicate with them in the same way we communicate with living people, but we can still look at their art and read their words and listen to their songs. We can still have a very real interaction with them. And we must.
Kids need to be taught to read. But not so that we can test their memorization of things - so they can appreciate the vast amount of literature in the world: the recordings of thoughts that people have had since the beginning of time.
There comes a point in life when you realize you aren't special; you aren't unique or important at all. And this can be a sobering realization. It can make you insecure; "If I'm not special, why would anyone want me in their life? If I'm not unique, what can I possibly offer this world?" But with that realization also comes another: we are like speakers. The energy of the whole world can use us an outlet and be broadcasted through us. Which is more than we could ever have done as an individual anyhow.
Another think Matt said was to "Keep telling the story" as compared to thinking of how the story "makes you feel" or trying to find the "meaning."
Because, as it turns out, the meaning can only be realized once the story is over; the anagogical is the literal and we must have every word present to see the literal in its entirety. If this is true, which I believe it is, then we will never know the meaning of our lives. Take a second. Think about that. Does it scare you? I know it scares me. Our life is a story we write every second of every day until it is over. And yet we will never know the meaning.
There is a W.H. Auden quote that goes, "We are lived by powers we pretend to understand." I know this is certainly true for me. I have such a desire to understand my life and it's meaning and to understand myself as an individual. I fear that if I don't know myself well enough then I will never be able to fully relate to anyone. And yet it seems no one ever knows who they are. We all live in a state of confusion because we are constantly exposed to stimuli that cause us to react and therefore carve down the statues that we are ever so slightly. We can make guesses at what the end product will be; as we chip more and more away the image becomes clearer. But we do not know when the carving will stop. We do not know when death will come to retrieve us. So we can only speculate. Which is just so silly to do... I don't know. I want to know myself. I want to confidently project my image into the world - to express myself through every action I do. But I'm just not sure it's possible.
If we were meant to know things, wouldn't we know everything? If we were meant to know, words like "doubt" and "confuse" and "question" wouldn't exist in our language. There would be no question marks. And yet there are. So maybe instead of fighting to find answers, we need to learn to embrace living in question. However one goes about doing that.
I wrote this down the instant he said it - before I had even processed it. And when the meaning of this statement hit me, I felt something click: something I didn't know I had been searching for, but the second I found it I knew it was what I needed.
When you ask someone what they want to be when they grow up the answer varies; some say "doctor" and others say "teacher" and others say "mechanic." We all choose different things. But no matter what people want to be, they all want to be it in the same manner: happily. One of the biggest problems with our current system of education is that kids are taught how to pass tests and get into college, but they aren't taught skills that will directly foster their happiness; we need to teach kids how to accept criticism and how to be thoughtful, responsible beings and how to properly think through problems they encounter (not just math problems, but life problems).
We aren't the center of anything. We must connect with our predecessors and use what they found out to direct our own searches. If we ignore what previous generations found out we are putting ourselves at an extreme disadvantage; we make more work for ourselves in trying to find things out. But it isn't just that. We need to connect. And the people that came before us are not out of reach. We may not be able to communicate with them in the same way we communicate with living people, but we can still look at their art and read their words and listen to their songs. We can still have a very real interaction with them. And we must.
Kids need to be taught to read. But not so that we can test their memorization of things - so they can appreciate the vast amount of literature in the world: the recordings of thoughts that people have had since the beginning of time.
There comes a point in life when you realize you aren't special; you aren't unique or important at all. And this can be a sobering realization. It can make you insecure; "If I'm not special, why would anyone want me in their life? If I'm not unique, what can I possibly offer this world?" But with that realization also comes another: we are like speakers. The energy of the whole world can use us an outlet and be broadcasted through us. Which is more than we could ever have done as an individual anyhow.
Another think Matt said was to "Keep telling the story" as compared to thinking of how the story "makes you feel" or trying to find the "meaning."
Because, as it turns out, the meaning can only be realized once the story is over; the anagogical is the literal and we must have every word present to see the literal in its entirety. If this is true, which I believe it is, then we will never know the meaning of our lives. Take a second. Think about that. Does it scare you? I know it scares me. Our life is a story we write every second of every day until it is over. And yet we will never know the meaning.
There is a W.H. Auden quote that goes, "We are lived by powers we pretend to understand." I know this is certainly true for me. I have such a desire to understand my life and it's meaning and to understand myself as an individual. I fear that if I don't know myself well enough then I will never be able to fully relate to anyone. And yet it seems no one ever knows who they are. We all live in a state of confusion because we are constantly exposed to stimuli that cause us to react and therefore carve down the statues that we are ever so slightly. We can make guesses at what the end product will be; as we chip more and more away the image becomes clearer. But we do not know when the carving will stop. We do not know when death will come to retrieve us. So we can only speculate. Which is just so silly to do... I don't know. I want to know myself. I want to confidently project my image into the world - to express myself through every action I do. But I'm just not sure it's possible.
If we were meant to know things, wouldn't we know everything? If we were meant to know, words like "doubt" and "confuse" and "question" wouldn't exist in our language. There would be no question marks. And yet there are. So maybe instead of fighting to find answers, we need to learn to embrace living in question. However one goes about doing that.
Monday, October 28, 2013
In the Waiting Room
The scary thing about surgery, is that you don't know how long a person can last through the trauma of the procedure. You know the theory is sound; replace bad with good. But you don't know if there is a time limit. So you rush it; you push through the time spent in their unconscious state as fast as you can. You think it will stick like some kid's rolled eyes - in that face like mothers have foretold for centuries.
That's the fear in most things; time. "How slow will time pass without you; how can I alter this to get you back to me sooner?" When really we need to focus on the effectiveness of the task at hand. Not the time it takes. After all, time is merely a relative thing. A thing that we have designated with a title as if to suggest it is a constant, but time is always a variable. Always.
Everything is out there. Everything is now. And it always will be. That person will always be there. Maybe not in an action sequence following the preceding event, but as a pleasant "memory" that we can still have access to. Nothing is ever forgotten; it is only displaced. And yes; displaced not misplaced. Misplaced implies a timeline of progressing events. Displace involves a variety of moments - all equal in strength - all equal in distance from each other and shaped like a sphere so as to be equal distance from any sort of "center". This way, we know we are just as likely to "remember" something from 9 years ago as something 9 seconds ago, depending on how much magnitude we registered from the event. And that is a completely individual and subjective thing, so there are no "odds" involved. Complete crap shoot. Any moment is as likely as the next to appeal to us.
Only connect. That's the message of the universe right? Connect. But connect doesn't mean be exactly the same. It doesn't mean that we have universal principles (ie time) that behave the same across the board. It means that we need to understand our own relationship with it and take the time and effort to understand others' relationships with it so that we can communicate effectively with them.
We all experience everything. We are vast, contain multitudes, and have room to contradict ourselves. But we have to stop pretending that things like "time" are constants. It is a charade that benefits no one.
That's the fear in most things; time. "How slow will time pass without you; how can I alter this to get you back to me sooner?" When really we need to focus on the effectiveness of the task at hand. Not the time it takes. After all, time is merely a relative thing. A thing that we have designated with a title as if to suggest it is a constant, but time is always a variable. Always.
Everything is out there. Everything is now. And it always will be. That person will always be there. Maybe not in an action sequence following the preceding event, but as a pleasant "memory" that we can still have access to. Nothing is ever forgotten; it is only displaced. And yes; displaced not misplaced. Misplaced implies a timeline of progressing events. Displace involves a variety of moments - all equal in strength - all equal in distance from each other and shaped like a sphere so as to be equal distance from any sort of "center". This way, we know we are just as likely to "remember" something from 9 years ago as something 9 seconds ago, depending on how much magnitude we registered from the event. And that is a completely individual and subjective thing, so there are no "odds" involved. Complete crap shoot. Any moment is as likely as the next to appeal to us.
Only connect. That's the message of the universe right? Connect. But connect doesn't mean be exactly the same. It doesn't mean that we have universal principles (ie time) that behave the same across the board. It means that we need to understand our own relationship with it and take the time and effort to understand others' relationships with it so that we can communicate effectively with them.
We all experience everything. We are vast, contain multitudes, and have room to contradict ourselves. But we have to stop pretending that things like "time" are constants. It is a charade that benefits no one.
Friday, October 25, 2013
The Illusion of Completeness
This is what we all are; an illusion of completeness. Maybe not all the time, and maybe not even consciously, but I feel certain that we all have projected that image at one point in time. If you are reading this thinking, "No I have surely never done that before" I ask you to think back to your time in middle school.. ah-ha.. "Yes it would appear that I have, indeed, done that before."
I saw a quote once that went something like "We are unsatisfied with our lives because we constantly compare our 'behind-the-scenes' footage with everyone else's 'highlight reel.'" Is that not the truth? Particularly this day in age when we have all these social media networks in which people post only the pictures in which they look like models and comment only about the good things that happen in their lives, "Got an 'A' on my midterm #collegelife #thatdailygrind #killinit" and hide the bad things, "Did I mention I'm hugely in debt from student loans and failing all my other classes?"
This sort of limited exposure to others makes it easy for us to look at our own lives and think we are less appealing or boring or failing or whatever else in comparison to others, but the funny thing is: look at those people whose lives you imagine to be perfect. Do you feel close to them? Or do you feel distanced by the lack of connection? Let me give an example from my own life:
Today in class we talked about how everyone is dealt a hand in life, and how those who are dealt a poor hand have no choice but to bluff if they want to stay in the game. If the other option is to fold, then I of course would encourage people to bluff. But at the same time, why is that the only option? Why can't we just look at someone with a shitty hand and accept them anyway? What is completeness and how can we possibly ever define it since we can't possibly know everything?
When I think about this I think of our brief discussion of Dumbo. The small elephant with huge ears is given a feather and told it will enable him to fly, so he places his trust in that feather and thereby flies. In Space Jam it is a "potion" (just a drink that the team is told is a potion) that enables the team to play better. Yet when these characters go without their magical aids, they discover they were capable of accomplishing those feats all along; by being "incomplete" they found success.
The last note I want to make on this topic concerns the Magus quote, "You are still becoming. Not being" (112) and the Hillman quote Dr. Sexson mentioned in class, "The thing you can become is what you already are." We want to be complete (whatever it is that means). We want to be happy, and we want to know everything. But the fact of the matter is: we are always changing, we cannot be happy 100% of the time, and we are ignorant. And as soon as we realize and accept this, we start down the path towards "being" - that is: being what we were all along.
I saw a quote once that went something like "We are unsatisfied with our lives because we constantly compare our 'behind-the-scenes' footage with everyone else's 'highlight reel.'" Is that not the truth? Particularly this day in age when we have all these social media networks in which people post only the pictures in which they look like models and comment only about the good things that happen in their lives, "Got an 'A' on my midterm #collegelife #thatdailygrind #killinit" and hide the bad things, "Did I mention I'm hugely in debt from student loans and failing all my other classes?"
This sort of limited exposure to others makes it easy for us to look at our own lives and think we are less appealing or boring or failing or whatever else in comparison to others, but the funny thing is: look at those people whose lives you imagine to be perfect. Do you feel close to them? Or do you feel distanced by the lack of connection? Let me give an example from my own life:
I am a junior in high school and new to the rock climbing scene. I am at the gym with a friend who has been climbing his whole life, and as we take turns climbing I say things like, "Man those inverted sections are really hard for me" or "It is hard to clip in on that route since I never feel like I'm balanced enough to take a hand off the wall." His response to these is to say "Oh I think the overhanging stuff is easy" and "Really? I don't think it's that hard."In doing this, he paints himself as the complete climber and makes it difficult for me to relate to him. Of course he does not need to lie and say that he thinks those things are difficult as well, but he surely went through the process of learning and training as well at one point.
Today in class we talked about how everyone is dealt a hand in life, and how those who are dealt a poor hand have no choice but to bluff if they want to stay in the game. If the other option is to fold, then I of course would encourage people to bluff. But at the same time, why is that the only option? Why can't we just look at someone with a shitty hand and accept them anyway? What is completeness and how can we possibly ever define it since we can't possibly know everything?
When I think about this I think of our brief discussion of Dumbo. The small elephant with huge ears is given a feather and told it will enable him to fly, so he places his trust in that feather and thereby flies. In Space Jam it is a "potion" (just a drink that the team is told is a potion) that enables the team to play better. Yet when these characters go without their magical aids, they discover they were capable of accomplishing those feats all along; by being "incomplete" they found success.
The last note I want to make on this topic concerns the Magus quote, "You are still becoming. Not being" (112) and the Hillman quote Dr. Sexson mentioned in class, "The thing you can become is what you already are." We want to be complete (whatever it is that means). We want to be happy, and we want to know everything. But the fact of the matter is: we are always changing, we cannot be happy 100% of the time, and we are ignorant. And as soon as we realize and accept this, we start down the path towards "being" - that is: being what we were all along.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Dazed and Confused
I'm not quite sure how to start this blog. So rather than try and formulate an intro, I'm just going to stick a bunch of excerpts from the Magus up here that surprised me.
"It is not anymore what you will become. It is what you are and always will be. You are too young to know this. You are still becoming. Not being" (112)
"The human mind is more a universe than the universe itself" (134)
"That is the truth. Not the hammer and sickle. Not the stars and stripes. Not the cross. Not the sun. Not gold. Not yin and yang. But the smile" (150)
"Why everything is, including you, including me, and all the gods, is a matter of hazard. Nothing else. Pure hazard" (190)
"He wanted to be blind. It made it more likely that one day he would see" (312)
"All that is past possesses our present" (317)
"War is psychosis caused by an inability to see relationships. Our relationship with our fellowmen. Our relationship with our economic and historical situation. And above all our relationship to nothingness. To death" (420)
"That experience made me fully realize what humor is. It is a manifestation of freedom. It is because there is freedom that there is the smile. Only a totally predetermined universe could be without it" (445)
"Psychiatry is getting more and more interested in the other side of the coin -- why sane people are sane, why they won't accept delusions and fantasies as real" (484)
"Spare him till he dies. Torment him till he lives" (559)
"An answer is always a form of death" (636)
"The basic principle of life is hazard" (639)
"Freedom was making some abrupt choice and acting on it" (655)
"cras amet qui numquam amavit quique amavit cras amet" (668) -> "Tomorrow let him love, who has never loved; he who has loved, let him love tomorrow"
Honestly, I could put the entire novel up on this post. I'm so unsure of what to think of it still. People in class keep saying how they had such a strong reaction to the book. And I can't blame them; it is a dense and thought-provoking work! But I seem to be stuck in a fog. The novel shocked and frustrated me, but mostly it has left me in a sort of daze as I try to figure it out. The weird thing is: the more I think about it and the more we talk about it in class, the less sure I feel about any of it.
The main question that has been bouncing around in my mind is this: What if we are just characters in someone's play/dream? Does that make our experience any less valid?
"It is not anymore what you will become. It is what you are and always will be. You are too young to know this. You are still becoming. Not being" (112)
"The human mind is more a universe than the universe itself" (134)
"That is the truth. Not the hammer and sickle. Not the stars and stripes. Not the cross. Not the sun. Not gold. Not yin and yang. But the smile" (150)
"Why everything is, including you, including me, and all the gods, is a matter of hazard. Nothing else. Pure hazard" (190)
"He wanted to be blind. It made it more likely that one day he would see" (312)
"All that is past possesses our present" (317)
"War is psychosis caused by an inability to see relationships. Our relationship with our fellowmen. Our relationship with our economic and historical situation. And above all our relationship to nothingness. To death" (420)
"That experience made me fully realize what humor is. It is a manifestation of freedom. It is because there is freedom that there is the smile. Only a totally predetermined universe could be without it" (445)
"Psychiatry is getting more and more interested in the other side of the coin -- why sane people are sane, why they won't accept delusions and fantasies as real" (484)
"Spare him till he dies. Torment him till he lives" (559)
"An answer is always a form of death" (636)
"The basic principle of life is hazard" (639)
"Freedom was making some abrupt choice and acting on it" (655)
"cras amet qui numquam amavit quique amavit cras amet" (668) -> "Tomorrow let him love, who has never loved; he who has loved, let him love tomorrow"
Honestly, I could put the entire novel up on this post. I'm so unsure of what to think of it still. People in class keep saying how they had such a strong reaction to the book. And I can't blame them; it is a dense and thought-provoking work! But I seem to be stuck in a fog. The novel shocked and frustrated me, but mostly it has left me in a sort of daze as I try to figure it out. The weird thing is: the more I think about it and the more we talk about it in class, the less sure I feel about any of it.
The main question that has been bouncing around in my mind is this: What if we are just characters in someone's play/dream? Does that make our experience any less valid?
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Madness
I'm in my 4th reading of the essay Dr. Sexson gave me to read titled "Apocalypse." Many parts of this essay trouble me because they cause me to think "WTF" or "What could this even mean?" which, I think, is exactly what the essay intends to do.
Simultaneously I think of my Bible as Literature class wherein I just read about the prophet Ezekiel and how his book is filled with images of schizophrenia and epileptic trances; he is regarded as a psychotic prophet. Therefore the prophecies of Ezekiel are instances of holy madness.
Growing up in a strict, traditional Catholic household certainly had an impact on me. When I first read this passage I thought, "Holy madness??" and instantly felt inner turmoil. After all, I have always been encouraged to think of religion as a factual, right, truth. Something that is not to be messed with. But as I have grown past the point of accepting what my elders tell me to the point of questioning things and forming my own beliefs, I have come to believe that all religions are the same. And atheists' belief systems (though not directed towards a god) are on the same level, just facing a different direction. To sum all that up: we are all mad. We just express it in different ways.
The other day I had a talk with Joe about the questions quote ("Ever answer is a form of death") and the conclusion we came to was that we must be prepared to doubt the very foundation on which we have built ourselves and our lives; we must be prepared to "kill God" (direct quote from Joe), and "god" in this sense is whatever that foundation of our lives is. T.S. Eliot expresses a similar notion in "Dry Salvages" when he writes,
Paragraph two states, "Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you - madness is in the saddle anyway" which the author then explains by saying, "It is possible to be mad and to be unblest; but it is not possible to get the blessing without the madness; it is not possible to get the illuminations without the derangement."As I read this passage I am brought back to our last class wherein Matt shared his feverish dream and Sexson said fevers and epileptic trances are instances in which we are able to transcend the human state; Matt's dream was nothing less than a vision. An instance of unholy madness.
Simultaneously I think of my Bible as Literature class wherein I just read about the prophet Ezekiel and how his book is filled with images of schizophrenia and epileptic trances; he is regarded as a psychotic prophet. Therefore the prophecies of Ezekiel are instances of holy madness.
Growing up in a strict, traditional Catholic household certainly had an impact on me. When I first read this passage I thought, "Holy madness??" and instantly felt inner turmoil. After all, I have always been encouraged to think of religion as a factual, right, truth. Something that is not to be messed with. But as I have grown past the point of accepting what my elders tell me to the point of questioning things and forming my own beliefs, I have come to believe that all religions are the same. And atheists' belief systems (though not directed towards a god) are on the same level, just facing a different direction. To sum all that up: we are all mad. We just express it in different ways.
The other day I had a talk with Joe about the questions quote ("Ever answer is a form of death") and the conclusion we came to was that we must be prepared to doubt the very foundation on which we have built ourselves and our lives; we must be prepared to "kill God" (direct quote from Joe), and "god" in this sense is whatever that foundation of our lives is. T.S. Eliot expresses a similar notion in "Dry Salvages" when he writes,
"There is no end, but addition: the trailing consequence of further days and hours, While emotion takes to itself and the emotionless Years of living among the breakage Of what was believed in as the most reliable - And therefore the fittest for renunciation"All of life is possessed by madness. Whether it be holy, unholy, or the madness gained in resisting either (for as I read in the previously mentioned essay, "Resisting madness can be the maddest way of being mad"), it is how we live. And the driving force of the madness in our lives is also the foundation upon which we have built ourselves. So if we are meant to question that force, we are then meant to question our sanity, which has to be the most confusing, intense, and likely painful experience we will ever go through. I hope I have the courage to do it when I arrive at that point in my life, because I am certain that point is out there and that I will reach it eventually.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
My Own Apocalypse
One thing that really clicked with me in class yesterday was that Nicholas (from John Fowles' The Magus) experienced an apocalypse in his interactions with Conchis. The entire charade that Conchis organized worked to unveil things so that Nicholas could see the reality of his situation in life. Sure it was exhausting and frustrating and difficult for him to go through, but was it not worth it to be brought to awareness?
Some say that "ignorance is bliss," but it seems like ignorance is really just a limiting factor; it keeps people living on the surface rather than in the depths. And it is this notion that brings me to another element of The Magus that I wish we could have discussed further: the infamous quote, "An answer is always a form of death" (Fowles 637).
I realize that answers should not be handed out. As a future educator, it is extremely important to me that people, though possibly guided, find answers on their own. This process of discovery teaches self-sufficiency, which is the most important thing for a person to have. Therefore, handing answers out kills in a very negative way. However, when we are finding answers on our own - when we are going out and experiencing things and observing things and feeling things - are we really doing anything negative? My answer: no.
To repeat what I have said in previous blogs/class discussions, death is not a bad thing. Death is a complete surrender of ourselves. Have you ever surrendered? Think for a minute of a time when you were plagued by something to which you fully surrendered (sleep, hunger, maybe a work of art you did). And now imagine doing that to life in general; giving yourself fully to whatever current moved through you and pushed you along. You may not ever know what is coming, but the movement would be easy would it not? When we search out answers on our own we are not pushing against that current and creating some unnatural motion. If answers were bad why would we have brains so quick to learn and explore? Rather, when we find answers on our own we are simply brought to another level of depth in the river that is life. Or, to refer back to my blog on valence electrons as a model of life, we move into a different "shell" or energy level.
Another thing: the world is full of questions. The world is made of questions. No one could ever possibly even begin to answer all of them. To even take one thing, let's say an acorn, and study it all your life and devote all of your time and energy to answering all the possible questions about that one thing would be impossible. And this is important because it means that we will NEVER run out of questions; we will never cease in our explorations, and at the end of all our exploring will be to arrive were we started and know the place for the first time.
I have been having apocalyptic dreams for the last few weeks. Every single night a different version of the apocalypse plays out in my head and I awake thinking, "Man that was a striking and deep and multi-faceted dream, what does it mean?" And I finally realized it. Over the last year or so I have been experiencing my own apocalypse. The world has been unveiled and I have been seeing it with new eyes; I have been finding answers which only lead to more questions - deeper, more significant questions. I have had an entire cast of "actors" (mostly teachers, but also some friends and family members) that have put me through a stage of complete disorientation and confusion (like that of Nicholas) and I have gained a new perspective because of it. If we don't question, we don't learn. Descartes spent his whole life trying to show people that; we must always question. But finding answers doesn't mean we are doing something wrong or bad for ourselves, it simply readies us for the next level of questions, which will surely be even more intense and personal.
Some say that "ignorance is bliss," but it seems like ignorance is really just a limiting factor; it keeps people living on the surface rather than in the depths. And it is this notion that brings me to another element of The Magus that I wish we could have discussed further: the infamous quote, "An answer is always a form of death" (Fowles 637).
I realize that answers should not be handed out. As a future educator, it is extremely important to me that people, though possibly guided, find answers on their own. This process of discovery teaches self-sufficiency, which is the most important thing for a person to have. Therefore, handing answers out kills in a very negative way. However, when we are finding answers on our own - when we are going out and experiencing things and observing things and feeling things - are we really doing anything negative? My answer: no.
To repeat what I have said in previous blogs/class discussions, death is not a bad thing. Death is a complete surrender of ourselves. Have you ever surrendered? Think for a minute of a time when you were plagued by something to which you fully surrendered (sleep, hunger, maybe a work of art you did). And now imagine doing that to life in general; giving yourself fully to whatever current moved through you and pushed you along. You may not ever know what is coming, but the movement would be easy would it not? When we search out answers on our own we are not pushing against that current and creating some unnatural motion. If answers were bad why would we have brains so quick to learn and explore? Rather, when we find answers on our own we are simply brought to another level of depth in the river that is life. Or, to refer back to my blog on valence electrons as a model of life, we move into a different "shell" or energy level.
Another thing: the world is full of questions. The world is made of questions. No one could ever possibly even begin to answer all of them. To even take one thing, let's say an acorn, and study it all your life and devote all of your time and energy to answering all the possible questions about that one thing would be impossible. And this is important because it means that we will NEVER run out of questions; we will never cease in our explorations, and at the end of all our exploring will be to arrive were we started and know the place for the first time.
I have been having apocalyptic dreams for the last few weeks. Every single night a different version of the apocalypse plays out in my head and I awake thinking, "Man that was a striking and deep and multi-faceted dream, what does it mean?" And I finally realized it. Over the last year or so I have been experiencing my own apocalypse. The world has been unveiled and I have been seeing it with new eyes; I have been finding answers which only lead to more questions - deeper, more significant questions. I have had an entire cast of "actors" (mostly teachers, but also some friends and family members) that have put me through a stage of complete disorientation and confusion (like that of Nicholas) and I have gained a new perspective because of it. If we don't question, we don't learn. Descartes spent his whole life trying to show people that; we must always question. But finding answers doesn't mean we are doing something wrong or bad for ourselves, it simply readies us for the next level of questions, which will surely be even more intense and personal.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)