so beautiful
an amazing day to be alive
My South Africa class continues to expand my expectation on the ends of human stupidity
But here is something slightly more inspirational:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/28/opinion/28wed3.html?emc=eta1
Thoughts on The Good Body
The Good Body is a short play written by Eve Ensler after her work with The Vagina Monologues. Like The Vagina Monologues, the play relies heavily on interviews with various women throughout the world. But unlike The Vagina Monologues, the play focuses on a different part of a woman's (or anyone for that matter) body. Our stomachs. The chapters of the play are interviews, but in between Eve uses commentary on her own relationship to her body. The Vagina Monologues was an attempt to make peace with her vagina. But instead of doing so, she feels as if the negative energy and feelings moved to her stomach. She writes that "I suppose I had this fantasy that after finally coming home into my vagina, I could relax, get on with life. This was not the case. The deadly self-hatred simply moved into another part of my body"(Ensler, xii).
I really liked her introduction. I pulled a lot of quotes from there, and would like to share them, because I feel like they are a good reflection of what the book is about.
The play begins: "In the midst of a war in Iraq, in a time of escalating global terrorism, when civil liberties are disappearing as fast as the ozone layer, when one out of three women in the world will be beaten or raped in her lifetime, why write a play about my stomach?" (Ensler, ix).
Her answer: "I see how other women's stomachs or butts or thights or hair or skin have come to occupy their attention, so that we have very little left for the war in Iraq--or much else for that matter" (Ensler, x).
I feel like this is excellent insight! I am very involved in a social justice group on campus that is currently waging a fair trade campaign. I've been involved with it for the past year and a half, and we have worked with several different issues, ranging from the conflict in Darfur, to hunger, to the rapes in the DRC. It was through this organization that I first heart about Eve Ensler and become a member of the cast of the 2009 production of The Vagina Monologues. But, getting back on track, I have spent a lot of time trying to get the texas tech campus aware/interested/active in current events and social justice issues in our community and world. I don't want to sound cynical, but I would say that the majority don't care. And I think this is a reason! While it may not apply to everyone, I think we spend a lot of time worrying about our bodies! I do. I can completely related to Eve Ensler wanting a flat stomach, because that is something I have wanted for years (though if I had one, I don't know if I would even recognize it).
I think this also goes with the thought that in order to help others, we have to be whole ourselves. We have to work through our own issues before we can begin to help others work through theirs.
And this book is an excellent starting place for starting a dialogue about body issues.
One of the great things about theater, is that people have to gather to experience it. So, once they are gathered, why not talk?
Especially within the American culture, there are many issues concerning our bodies. Her interviews are vast and range from plastic surgery, vuvla shrinking, fat camps, intentional breast removal, acceptance of ones' body, and spiritual nurturing. I would like to go into detail about each chapter, but I think that would make this already long blog post even more obnoxiously long. So instead I am going to leave you with quotes.
Some of the quotes I pulled from these chapters that I liked are as follows:
From a 74 year old African Masai women: "We are all trees, you're a tree, I'm a tree. You've got to love your body, Eve. You've got to love your Tree. Love your tree" (Ensler, 74).
From Eve's conclusion: "Our body is our country, the only city, the only village, the only every, we will ever know" (Ensler, 91).
We must love ourselves, our bodies, to love and help the world around us. As I am writing this, I can't think of a better book to begin my journey on social justice theater with. Good body, good self, good community, good country, good world.
The Solace of Open Spaces
From the clayey soil of northern Wyoming is mined bentonite, which is used as a filler in candy, gum, and lipstick. We Americans are great on fillers, as if what we have, what we are, is not enough. We have a cultural tendency toward denial, but, being affluent, we strangle ourselves with what we can buy. We have only to look at the houses we build to see how we build against space, the way we drink against pain and loneliness. We fill up space as if it were a pie shell, with things whose opacity further obstructs our ability to see what is already there.
- The Solace of Open Spaces
Pandora's Nickel Creek radio station is BEAUTIFUL. HOLY CRAP.
I want you guys to listen to it.
Josphine-Brandi Carlile
I do not think that flicking someone with your toothbrush water warrants being tickled and playfully kicked by their foot.
But that is just my opinion.
Once again, at J&B and finding time to write on this blog. Despite the amount of people here, it is surprisingly quiet. And the music is beautiful. They just played a version of "hallelujah" that I hadn't heart before and it was so pretty! All of the music is pretty.
And it's still going on! I thought it was over. Small surprises.
Mostly, I've been writing on my honors thesis. I completed a small segment, and am going to post it here to see what everyone thinks. It's about the day after I was robbed and having to go to the police station to identify my attacker. I met with Professor Caswell today and prior to our meeting I was very lost about where to proceed in my story. I had just finished the actual robbery scene, and wasn't sure where to go. So I talked to him about it, and just in talking with him, I was able to see a clear path to take with this next scene. He is a really awesome mentor. We talked about his book a lot today, because I have been reading it to get a better idea of creative non fiction.
Very broadly this is what I took from our conversation: if something you are writing about makes you uncomfortable, write about it anyway. It usually ends up being a better story.
I am not in a state of mind to do our conversation justice, so I am going to end there. This is what I wrote here at J&B tonight. It's a really rough draft, but let me know if you have comments/suggestions/praise.
Two police officers talk lowly in Spanish. I sit in front of an old dell computer, the kind I had when I was ten, and stare blankly at the screen. I try to focus on the twenty mug-shot faces looking back at me, but their voices are distracting. One of them is young, a few years older than me. The other has a beard and a receding hairline. I listen to them, catching words with as much success as catching rain on my tongue. I shake my head and tell myself to be more fair. The sleeping pill I took last night lingers behind my eyes, and my mind is too distracted bursting in bits of memory to focus on another language. I turn back to my twenty faces. I look at each, not wanting to hurry and miss his face, but knowing that each pictures takes my memory further from me. I skip over the black and white men—his skin was the color of a dark walnut wood and the ones shorter than 5’7. He towered over me. On the third page I find a man with the same black eyes and similar facial features. I click the box beside his name and am asked how sure I am. I type in fifty percent. Something about his face feels unfamiliar, so I change my answer to forty. I move onto the next man, and feel doubts about my decision. I don’t want to condemn the wrong man. I have it in my mind that when I see him, I will know. Like a soul mate, I muse and click the next button. Twenty new faces. On the fourth page, I find him. Or at least the closest I come to finding him. I pick a man with the most similar facial features—the same color skin, square face, flat nose, high cheekbones, and black eyes. I choose him with sixty percent accuracy. As I submit the numbers, I wonder how certainly he chose me. How did he know I would have anything of value to take? Was it even those physical things—computer, credit card, phone, he wanted? Money can be replaced easily. Fear takes longer to put to rest.
Seeing him, or someone that could be him, sends new floods of memories through my mind. I close my eyes, willing my mind to stop. Please stop. I’ve replayed it enough. I’ve replayed every detail, every movement at least ten times today and I am tired. There are dark circles beneath my eyes and my cheekbones are red from crying. My mind reaches the point where he takes out the gun, and I bite my lip. Don’t cry, not here. I click the next button. Twenty more faces. I can pick up to four men. I look in the top right corner. Only two hundred more to look through. I don’t find anyone else who looks like him. I thank the two men and leave.
Brian at J&B
I should have included this a long time ago. This is a picture from our fair trade cookie baking night. We are standing in front of well body honoring the sun.
I am sitting in J&B waiting for 2:45 to come along. Not really waiting, more just being with the time, letting it pass as it will. I need to slow down the pace of my fingers, because they are typing too quickly and that is rushing time along.
My mom met me for lunch at Angela's cafe. It was kind of her to do that, as it has been a busy day and I did not have to deal with packing a lunch. I enjoyed seeing her. I talked animatedly about the Shelby Knox documentary and panel discussions I have been to this past two nights. (Slight divergence-it is so random to turn around and see someone you went to high school with that you haven't seen in years. This particular guy I have known since Kindergarten, I believe.My most distinct memory of him is from the 4th grade. We were all taking the TAAS test and he farted. Because it was quiet, everyone heard him and even the teacher started laughing. It really hurt his feelings and he went to the counselor's office crying. We felt horrible after that, and I blamed one of my friends for laughing and then causing me to laugh too. It's funny...maybe our entire life is remembered some way or another, but just by different people. I would be really surprised if he remembered that...but maybe he remembers something about me that I don't. I like that thought)
But getting back to my original post. These past two nights at the separate discussions of GLBTQA events (Gay, Lesbian, Bi, Transgender, Queer, Ally!) have been very eye opening. These are a couple of thoughts I have gathered from them:
-with privilege comes power. There is no reason to feel guilty for being a white female heterosexual, instead use that to your advantage. Straight people are more likely to listen to other straight people, so take advantage of opportunities that present themselves
-you can't advocate for something when you don't feel like you are doing anything to change it (oh, Darfur)
-Don't let things go. Don't let people make comments, tell jokes, use terms that are homophobic. Standing up for the GLBTQ community can be as simple as not using the term "gay" to describe a situation that is undesirable
That is all I have now. Mostly I wish you guys a beautiful wednesday and take a moment to appreciate that it is wednesday. Shout glory!
I am going to repost from Coyotebanjo, because I feel as if this is something I really struggle with, and he phrased it really well:
"But more from watching how my great therapist/Dharma sister/teacher handled the emotions of others. The therapist's charge is to maintain perspective (not "objectivity", which is a bullshit chimera that some therapists hide beyond in order to avoid commitment), but the Buddhist teacher's charge is to not only maintain perspective but also to manifest compassion. Which is a delicate line to walk, and every circumstance is different. But I also learned that one of the best ways to walk that line most constructively is to be present in the moment. And part of that "being present" is to sit with someone else's pain, and refrain from either trying to escape it, or to "fix it"--both of which are attempts to avoid it."
When someone comes to me crying or in pain, I am usually thinking ahead of how to fix it. Because I honestly thought that that is what they wanted. But when I am crying or in pain, how much do I want a quick fix? Does it really mean something to me? Or do I want my friend to listen and sit with me as I cry?
Do I even need a solution? Or do I just need to cry?
Beautiful advice.
On life and all of its choices
I think it is really cool when things you have been pondering come up in every day life.
For example. Today I was reading an essay in Professor Caswell's book "An Inside Passage". He mentions that his wife is in Boulder, CO doing a degree at Naropa University. I think, how interesting.
For the past couple of weeks, I have been contemplating going to Naropa myself for a degree.
Right now, it seems as if the course of my life is going to take quite a drastic turn then what I had discussed in my previous posts.
Here is what I am considering so far:
1. Americorps
2. Social Justice/Human Rights MA program at Arizona state university (I talked with the director today, and the program seems awesome! It is really flexible, and I can direct my focus to either domestic or international issues. I can also do a CREATIVE thesis! HOW AMAZING!)
3. Breadloaf MA in English (a summer program. Caswell did it, and said that it would be perfect for me. Takes 5 years and is only taught during the summer)
4. Naropa...either a Masters in Contemplative Education or Writing
5. Teach For America
Terri told me, on behalf of advice she had received from Lynne, to apply and then consider what my options are once I have been accepted.
Any thoughts or advice?
Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts by Tracey
I just wanted to remember this:
Essays are never just essays. They're massive undertakings to see the entire world through a small piece of glass.
On time
There were too many thoughts in Artic Dreams (by Barry Lopez) to ignore, so I am going to share a few with you.
"Time hovers about the tundra like the rouhg-legged hawk, or collapses altogether like a bird keeled over witha heart attack, leaving the stillness we call death."
"To lie on your back somewhere on the light-drowned tundra of an Ellesmere Island valley is to feel that the ice ages might have ended but a few days ago. Without the holler of contemporary life, that constant disturbance, it is possible to feel the slope of time, how very far from Mesopotamia we have come."
172
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Posts
