soul tending

i lay in the parking lot
felt the sun
the wind
the color of the sky
el salvador
so still
so still i felt the world turn

"your prettiness is seeping through"

a soul is an important thing to take care of. laying in the sun of a blue sky day, heals mine.

best days ever.

Tragedy

From Dr. Coyote's blog:

Well-put and apt. I would certainly agree that the rush to generalize (as in "just another case of...") or particularize (as in "somebody must have made an error somewhere, which, if only identified, could prevent this happening again...") are both equally inapt. As I expressed to a friend, the mainstream media's tendency to try to find some failure of security or record-keeping, some "red flag", which "should have" been a warning signal, proceeds from a unsubstantiated conviction that tragic events are never random and can always be prevented, which is not how the world works.

loves when in doubt

In my readings and meanderings, I have come across some quotes and pictures and I feel they should be shared together, though they aren't necessarily related.

I am not, for example, first of all a being without hope who may or may not later be converted to hope. On the contrary, I am first a being of hope who, for any number of reasons, may thereafter lose hope. -Paulo Freire Pedagogy of Freedom: Ethnics, Democracy, and Civic Courage.



This is Tech Terrace park in the snow we had last Thursday.


My mom took me out for lunch to Home Cafe. Delicious! And Fair Trade Coffee. My Mom also thanked the waitress there for offering Fair Trade Coffee, though we didn't order any.


On Friday, Glen and I took Matti and Cally for a walk around Higgin Botthom Park. There were SO MANY GEESE.
It was inspiring.


When we were walking them, a man in his truck pulled off to the side of the road and asked if we knew of any male corgis that weren't neutered--he was looking to breed.
We politely said no.

Then we all ran for a bit. Matti was actually pulling me.

THis is the quote from Corelli's Mandolin that I am trying to use in my thesis:

In Corelli’s Mandolin, Pelagia catches Corelli teaching one of the local children Italian. Corelli throws the small girl into the air, having her repeat “Bella fanciulla.” Pelagia accuses him of indoctrinating the child and Corelli responds, “Signorina, in times like this, in a way, all of us have to make the most of what little innocent pleasure there is. Pelagia saw the resignation and weariness in his face, and felt ashamed of herself. In the silence that followed, both of them reflected upon their own unworthiness."

This morning, the thesis was difficult to write. But after a chai tea latte, jazz, and lady in the water soundtrack, I am finding myself back in sync.

I am fearful. I have fear.

(preface: this is an essay I wrote for my communities in literature class on an essay entitled "practical wisdom" by bell hooks. The assignment is to use the essay as a way to launch discussion. I am holding my discussion this Thursday, so I have not yet turned this paper in. Any comments/feedback/suggestions would be greatly appreciated)

In Teach 16 of her book Teaching Community: a Pedagogy of Hope, bell hooks describes an experience she had at Southwestern University. She had been hired to teach informal classes on race, gender, class, and religion in the predominately white male university. The classes were very successful the dean invited her to give the commencement speech. While the classes had been a positive experience, the speech was not. Hooks spoke to “thousands of white people, many of whom anti-black racist.” The audience didn’t like the government-sanctioned violence, oppression, and student passivity she discussed. Their reactions were harsh and hooks was booed and threatened for her speech.

There is a story to be gained from every experience, and the audiences’ reaction to hook’s commencement speech opens the ground for a powerful discussion about fear. During the speech, there were two types of fear at play. The first was the fear hooks felt when she stood before the white audience and the second the fear the audience had toward hearing a black woman speak about oppression. Many people—students, teachers, professors, staff—have experiences with both types of fear. We are afraid of being discriminated against and/or have prejudices, biases, and intolerance toward others. However, instead of dealing with these fears, we are taught to ignore the first and be ashamed of the second. Fear is controlling and when left untouched and unmentioned, it only grows. The experience hooks gives in her essay provides an opportunity for discussion. In a community, classroom, family, and group of friends we need dialogues about fears we feel, fears we have, and how we can “move through that fear to find out what connects us.” Instead of being a negative emotion we deny, fear can be a communal process of healing “that brings us closer.”

The process of working through fear is laid out in a quote hooks includes from an essay written by Parker Palmer. Palmer writes, “I am fearful. I have fear. But I don’t need to be my fear as I speak to you. I can approach you from a different place in me—a place of hope, a place of fellow feeling, of journeying together in a mystery that I know we share.”

In the first line of the quote, Parker point to the fear we feel. ‘I am fearful’ relates to the specific events, people, places, or things we perceive as being emotionally, spiritually, or physically dangerous. We must first acknowledge what frightens us as we work through fears. In the example I gave above, hooks was fearful of the audience at the commencement speech. She “feels afraid” of their reactions and potential consequences her speech could cause.

In acknowledge what scares us, we can begin to see the fears we have. The fears we have are different than the ones we feel in that they relate more to our prejudices, biases, and intolerances. They are not physically, emotionally, or spirituality dangerous, but are perceived as threats to our lifestyles and habits. The audience members of hook’s commencement speech had fear at her discussing the government oppression, violence, and student apathy. They were not afraid of what she talked about, but of her as a black woman urging people to change. Her ideas were radical and, if followed, would require shifts in mindset, beliefs, values, and lifestyle. The audience members didn’t want this type of change.

It is important to talk about these fears we have, though they are probably the most difficult to discuss. It is hard to understand, but we all carry some amount of intolerance, bias, and prejudice. Hooks feels some disdain toward white men and for many years, I looked down upon feminists. I fed into the feminist stereotype of bitchy angry women independent of men, and justified my beliefs by observing members of Texas Tech’s Feminist Majority Leadership Alliance (though I had never met these women or gone to any of their meetings). Looking back, I can see that my viewpoints were misogynic. Though they have changed, I still feel ashamed to talk about them. Once aware of these fears we have it is difficult to openly discuss our own racism, misogyny, and homophobia in a classroom, community, family, or with friends. We are often ashamed of these fears and feel as if others would judge us for them.
The ‘I am fearful’ and ‘I have fear’ experiences we have should not be kept untold because we are afraid of other people’s reactions. The shame we feel in being afraid to give a commencement speech about oppression or carrying unfounded disdain of feminist classmates does not have to define or control us. Parker wrote “I don’t need to be my fear as I speak to you. I can approach you from a different place in me—a place of hope, a place of fellow feeling, of journeying together in a mystery that I know we share.” When hooks took the podium, looked out over the white audience, and decided to give her speech, she does not let her fear define who she is. She approaches the audience from that different place inside of her—one of “shared humor, deep thinking…and meaningful community.” Though the audience’s initial reactions were negative and hurtful, some students “were moved by [her] words” and she considers the experience a success.

In our classrooms, community, families, and friends, we tell our stories and feelings of fear to “journey together in a mystery we share.” By sharing our stories, we find that others have similar experiences. And with their experiences comes a wealth of knowledge, advice, and understanding. When I was questioning feminism, I found solace in others who had similar doubts. Together we talked about the stereotypes of feminism and what led us to resent and distance ourselves from a movement that we could have found solidarity in. After months of discussion and dialogue, we went to a Feminist Majority Leadership Alliance meeting. The twenty women were nothing like we expected. We participated in their production of the Vagina Monologues and working with them dispelled any stereotypes we had. After the production ended we joined the twenty women in calling ourselves feminists. When left unacknowledged, fear divides. When told, worked through, and shared, fear gives the foundation for a “meaningful community.”

The geese are coming!

Box Elders

On February 10th, I attended a panel on Literature, Race, and Nature. The English department brought in a guest writer Camille Dungy to speak, and she was joined by Sarah Spurgeon and Priscilla Ybarra. I took a class on Gender, Race, and Nature in Environmental Writing by Dr. Spurgeon last semester, and am taking an Environmental Literature and Legislation course with Dr. Ybarra this semester. Both professors have been excellent and their classes thought provoking. The discussion was very deep and thought provoking. I want to share a few of their thoughts and my own.


Literature, Race, and the Environment
The Literature the three professors examine can be broken down into many classifications. Dr. Spurgeon researches Literature of the Southwest, Dr. Ybarra Chicana/Chicano Literature, and Camille Dungy Black edited a book on African American Nature Poetry. Though they study this classification of literature, they also look at how their authors write about the environment. Dr. Ybarra and Spurgeon pointed out that there isn't a lot of room in environmental or nature writing for people of color.
There are many reasons for disparity. An audience member suggested that people only want a certain type of nature writing. Dr. Spurgeon took this idea a step further and said the ideal form of nature writing is a lone white man conquering the forest. We can be particular about nature writing because often we want a “nice story.” The story of people of color is not as “nice.” These people—African Americans, Chicanos, American Indians— worked the land as a living, were often forced from it, and at some points in history were considered property like the land. Many do not want to hear this story of the environment.

Stories
All three professors stressed how important the stories and poems of the people of color are. Environmental issues are unique in that they cross boundaries of ethnicity, race, gender, sexual orientation, and socioeconomic class and can unite people in a common cause. In order for this to happen, all voices must be heard, and all stories told. From this discussion, there is one story in particular that spoke to me. Camille Dungy told us a story about a box elder she found while living in Virginia. The box elder was growing in the filtration unit of a pool. She thought this was odd and asked around about the history of the tree. After much inquiry and research, she learned that the pool used to be a public pool. During the late 60s and early 70s, black children had wanted to swim in it. Rather than desegregate the pool, the town decided to close it down. Dungy found the tree both remarkable and haunting. Remarkable in that it had such a rich history, but haunting in seeing a tree linked with segregation. Thousands of African Americans lost their lives in trees.
One of the questions I need to answer for this paper is what I gained from attending. It’s hard to define what one gains from moments of impassioned speech (an audience member from the East Side of Lubbock gave a small monologue on how she wanted books that talked to her and how she never could relate to Shakespeare) or discussions about the relationship between African Americans and the landscapes they were once enslaved in. Since I have to define it, I would say the hour I spent listening to the panel gave me knowledge about a different cultures and experiences I have never had. I heard lines of poetry that were beautiful and stories that gave box elders a new meaning.

I love the sound of geese passing overhead. Especially when it is night.

"Hello Standard Tuning my old friend, I've come to talk to you again."
-Ty

I've spent my evening eating delicious vegetarian pasta cooked by Glen, watching Arrested Development with Ty and Glen, and then Glen taught me some tunes. I learned Wise Maid on Penny Whistle and Rose in the Heather on guitar! The chords. But my FIRST guitar song.

Now I am listening to Glen play guitar (after a tenor banjo session with Tracey as a captive audience). He was playing Upward Over the Mountain, and it was really moving to listen and sing with him.

"I learned these chords from a super hot girl in South Dakota."
-Glen
That statement was greeted with laughter from Ty, who is sitting in his room, throwing in the occasional comment. What is he doing? I don't know. I'm not "allowed" to ask.

"Laura, you have to learn Slow Cheetah or else I'll never speak to you again."
-Ty

"Happy Trails to you."

And that is where the music stopped.
Or at least I thought it did.
But Glen keeps playing. He will always continue to play.

Finds

Irish Song with English Translation
Fear An Bhata (The Boatman)
Chorus:
Fhir an bháta 'sna hóró éile
Fhir an bháta 'sna hóró éile
Fhir an bháta 'sna hóró éile
Mo shoraid slán leat gach áit a dtéid thú

Théid mé suas ar an chnoic is airde
Feach an bhfeic mé fear an bháta,
An tdig thú anoch nó an dtig thú amárach
No muna dtig thú idir is trua atá mé

Ta mo chroíse briste brúite
Is trick na deora a rith bho mo shúileann.
An dtig thú inniu nó am bidh mé dúil leat
Nó an druid mé an doras le osna thuirseach?

Thúg mé gael duit is chan fhéad mé 'athrú
Cha gaol bliana is cha gaol raithe
Ach gaol ó thoiseacht nuair bha mé 'mo pháiste
Is nach seasc a choíche me gus clóigh' am bás mé

Translation from Irish Gaelic to English

Chorus:
O, Boatman, and another, "horo"
My safe blessing with you everywhere you go

I went up on the highest hill
To see if I could see the boatman
Will you come tonight or will you come tomorrow?
If you do not come, I will be wretched

My heart is broken and crushed
Frequent are the tears that run from my eyes
Will you come today or when I'm longing for you
Or shall I close the door with a tired sigh?

I gave you my love, and I cannot change that
Not love for a year, and not just words of love
But love from the beginning, when I was a child
And I will never cease, even when my death bell tolls

3 images, 1 each of Counties Sligo, Galway, and Clare

Sligo


Galway


Clare



1 song in English which makes specific reference to a specific place

The Dawning of the Day
One morning early I walked forth
By the margin of Lough Leane
The sunshine dressed the trees in green
And summer bloomed again
I left the town and wandered on
Through fields all green and gay
And whom should I meet but a colleen sweet
At the dawning of the day.
No cap or cloak this maiden wore
Her neck and feet were bare
Down to the grass in ringlets fell
Her glossy golden hair
A milking pail was in her hand
She was lovely, young and gay
She wore the palm from Venus bright
By the dawning of the day.

On a mossy bank I sat me down
With the maiden by my side
With gentle words I courted her
And asked her to be my bride
She said, "Young man don't bring me blame"
And swiftly turned away
And the morning light was shining bright
At the dawning of the day.

(Lough Leane is a lake in Killarney)

3 images of Irish art (painting or sculpture only) depicting traditional topics (music, dance, song, foodways, storytelling)

Connemara Girl by Augustus Nicholas Burke


Painting by Nathaniel Hone


The Dancing Master by Daniel McDonald

Sowell Collection

Since I am neglecting this blog, I've decided to post some of my writing assignments and exercises and just general thoughts.
This is a report on the Sowell Collection at the Southwest Special Collections Library.
In Barry Lopez’s essay “The Passing Wisdom of Birds,” he discusses two small steps people can take to restore a communal relationship between humans and the land. One is to assemble a collection of Natural History. With this thought in mind, for this project I chose the James Sowell Collection to study at the Southwest Collection Library. Beyond Barry Lopez’s advice of gathering books about Natural History, its subtitle intrigued me. The Sowell collections deals with work about Literature, Community, and the Natural World. I value connectedness and one of the greatest thrills for me is to see how things are interwoven, linked, fated, and connected. I wanted to learn what connections existed between literature, community, and the natural world, especially since all three areas are subjects I feel passionate about. The brief description I read didn’t offer any answers. I didn’t expect it to—instead the Sowell collection pointed me in the direction of several authors. The Sowell Collections hosts work, drafts, research notebooks, diaries, calendars, photographs, computer files, and film from many different authors. The authors in the Sowell Collection are Rick Bass, Max Crawford, David James Duncan, Gretel Ehrlich, William Kittredge, Barry Lopez, Walk McDonald, Bill McKibben, Susan Brind Morrow, Doug Peacock, David Quammen, Pattiann Rogers, Sandra Scofield, Annick Smith. The work of these authors is chosen, because they are seen to be part of a communal undertaking of the examination of our world and our place within. I like this idea and I like that these authors take it farther to explore our place in the world not as possessors, but as companions. They are trying to find “what constitutes a just relationship between human society and physical place.” This summer, I want to take time and read their thoughts and learn from their experiences.

Anxious to Know

(This is an explication I wrote from my Environmental Literature class to a quote from Barry Lopez's article "Rediscovering North America")

“We’re anxious now to know what the land has to say to us, how it responds to our use of it.”

When we are children, if we are lucky, we hear stories about the Native American tribes in North America. If we are even more fortunate, we hear about their lifestyles, beliefs, traditions, and relationships with each other and the land around them. But most of us didn’t, and if we did, we ignored their wisdom for our own western version and quickly forgot the teachings. If, sometime later in our adult life, we hear these stories again, we find ourselves equating them with an idealistic painting of Native America. The image is nice, but we know that our culture is too far gone in a different direction to turn back to an indigenous lifestyle.

But is it?

Barry Lopez, in his essay “Rediscovering North America” makes a brilliant case for the possibility of change in our culture. He acknowledges “one of our deepest frustrations as a culture…must be that we have made so extreme an investment in mining the continent, created such an infrastructure of nearly endless jobs predicated on the removal and distribution of trees, water, minerals, fish, plants, and oil, that we cannot imagine stopping.” It is important to acknowledge this frustration because it means that we are upset. We aren’t happy with our current lifestyle and want to change. Though we don’t necessarily understand how, the desire, yearning, and willingness is with us.

When Lopez writes a few pages earlier “we are anxious now to know what the land has to say to us” he is describing a shift in thought. For several centuries—he places the date at 1492—western culture has viewed the land as a possession. Now we are slowly returning back and taking our thoughts in a different direction of treating the land as companion or person. In his line “we are anxious now to know what the land has to say to us” Lopez also offers a teacher in which we can learn from. Indigenous people often viewed themselves as one with the land. They wouldn’t have thought to distinguish between their bodies and an oak tree near their home or the canyon they hunted in. So when Lopez says that we can listen to the land, he is also suggesting we listen to the indigenous tribes of North America as they can be seen as the same.

Listening will not always be an easy task. We will hear stories that go against beliefs we were raised with and stories that urge us to change lifestyles we have grown accustomed to. And in these stories, we will also hear the truth of our culture and its impact on the earth. The land, the people, will “respond to our uses of it.” It will be difficult to hear, but we can endure its tale. We will listen because we are frustrated and anxious to hear a story other than our own.

I am thankful for:
Chaucer
Earl Gray loose leaf tea
Candles (On Saturday, I was working on the kitchen table, and my mom put three candles by me, lit them, and said I was encircled by light)
O Fortuna
Lady in the Water Sound Track
You
Google chat
Guitar
Music
Writing
These are getting generally more broad
Maps
Barry Lopez.

I have had a wonderful afternoon (I finished writing my Chaucer essay!) and I wanted to share some of the energy.

you do not have to be good

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Wild Geese, Mary Oliver

"But, five hundred years later, we intend to mean something else in the world."
-Barry Lopez.

Here it is in context: "The second point I wish to make is that this violence corruption needn't define us. Looking back on the Spanish incursion, we can take the measure of the horror and assert that we will not be bound by it. We can say, yes, this happened, and we are ashamed. We repudiate the greed. We recognize and condemn the evil. And we see how the harm has been perpetuated. But, five hundred years later, we intend to mean something else in the world."

From his essay "The Rediscovery of North America"

For my Environmental Literature and Legislation class we have to research an endangered animal and tomorrow turn in a one page report over its current state. I thought it would be more fun to type it all up in a blog post, so here is what I found:



I've seen West Indian Manatees a few times in the Gulf of Mexico when I visit Florida. Usually they poke up their noses out and flare their nostrils to breathe. Sometimes they are curious and raise their heads from the water. I observed the Manatees from a bridge and didn’t see the full extent of their bodies. West Indian Manatees are large aquatic mammals. On average, they are ten feet in length and can weight between 800 and 1,200 pounds. According to the research I've done and my observations from the bridges in Florida, Manatees are gentle and slow-moving animals. They swim at a pace of three to five miles, but have been known to reach speeds of twenty in short bursts. At their normal pace of three to five miles an hour, they meander through the ocean to graze on their completely vegetarian diet of aquatic plants. West Indian Manatees are herbivorous grazers that consume 15% of their body weight in vegetation daily.

To me, Manatees have very interesting migration patterns. They need warm waters to survive, so in the summer, they can be seen Florida’s rivers and coastal waters. A few have been sighted as far west as Texas and north as Virginia. In the winter, they migrate south and spend November though March primarily in Florida. To quote directly from my research “Water temperatures that fall below 21° C (70° F) cause manatees to move into warm water refuge areas. Scientists don’t know what cues manatees follow, but they seem to know when cold weather is coming and seek warm water areas.”

Manatees live in shallow, slow-moving rivers, bays, estuaries and coastal water ecosystems of the southeastern United States. Often they come into contact with humans. Many photographs show Manatees with deep gashes along their back. These gashes are caused by motorized boat’s propellers. As I mentioned earlier, Manatees swim at slow speeds and cannot easily move when they sense a boat approaching. The frequently collide with boats and are cut by the propellers. Many die from these accidents. Humans are cited to be responsible for 40% of all Manatee deaths. Manatees also die from ingesting fishhooks, litter, or becoming entangled in crab trap or monofilament line. Others find themselves trapped in a flood gate or canal lock and are crushed or drown. Yet hope is not lost. Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission coordinate the rescues of injured Manatees. Once rescued, these Manatees are taken to rehabilitation centers to be cared for until they heal.

can

No Children, Mountain Goats

i find this song nothing but inspiring. and laura, i thank you for playing it tonight.

I heard from someone you're still pretty

Songs motivate me to want to learn guitar. There are two songs in particular: John Doyle's Morning Dew and Iron & Wine's Upward Over the Mountain. I have been picking up the guitar most days, teaching my fingers to curve over the strings, learning E major and minor chords, C, straining to reach G, feeling the wire cut into my skin, awkwardly holding a pick and trying to make sense of it. It's a beautiful instrument.

Heather went on a rant about oboe last night at the Sequentia concert that I thought was hilarious but also true. Oboe is a really pretty instrument. I've struggled with calling it that for years now, but I firmly believe that all instruments have the potential to be beautiful, it mostly depends on the passion of the person playing it. So it is. It also requires a LOT of maintenance. And this can be frustrating when you don't know what you are doing. Or particularly want to learn what you are doing.
So I am slowly abandoning it. Yes. I am letting oboe go.
I would really like to give it to a freshman music major who loves oboe but couldn't necessarily afford one. Or donate it to the oboe studio. Because oboe is not an instrument that you can just pick up and play. As I said before, it requires maintenance.
I realize that guitar requires maintenance too. But I am excited to learn about that maintenance. When Tracey showed me how to tune a guitar last semester, I felt as if I had achieved something.
Does this sound weird? That learning to tune a guitar would be a momentous occasion in my life? Probably.
But, if I was to look deeper, I would see that being able to tune the guitar is an affirmation of something I can do that I thought I couldn't. Much like pouring cement. Biking past the loop. Possibly going to New York this summer to teach a course. Telling my Dad I didn't feel comfortable going to church with them on holidays.

There is still negativity in my life. I've come to realize that a lot of it is my reactions to experiences and events around me. I'm considering Buddhism and whenever I feel myself becoming stressed or agitated, just thinking about it calms me down. I also think about Dr. Smith's house and Dr. Mariani's amazing studio.
And admitting and pursuing what makes me happy has helped. I had an amazing conversation with Tracey on Friday, and at one moment we talked about being more drawn to social/psychological issues than global issues. I've also come to acknowledge that I am drawn to writing, art, theater, and music. I feel like in the past I've fostered my writing and music, but starting last semester and continuing into this one, I've nurtured it.

I also am coming to realize that I want to teach. I don't think I really want to work for a non-profit or do social justice work. I don't think social justice and teaching have to be exculsive. But I want to teach creative non-fiction. I had a moment thinking about teaching creative non-fiction as a means of empowering people. Writing can be a powerful medium for healing. But also for change. Touch people in ways they don't expect. Find a way to make that statistic into a story.

Ty played the theme for Lady in the Water in Dr. Mariani's studio on Thursday. The part of the song that I think is some of the most powerful notes in music (I will attach a link to them at the end of this post) stayed with my for the remainder of the evening. The music brought up scenes from the movie--especially moments where they talk about the universe aligning and every being having a purpose.
As I was laying on my bed, replaying the notes in my mind, and the words, I felt a sense of profound purpose.
And I think that purpose is to teach.

Here's a link. Mostly I want you guys to watch the movie: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bmp1SlODtK8&feature=related

"Oh she says I'm a poor lost girl, and I'm a long ways from home."

-Anonymous 4 on their album "gloryland"

Where is it?

Here is a link to their song: http://www.last.fm/music/Anonymous+4/_/The+Lost+Girl

Solider

A post with pictures from chicago is pending.

First this:

What have they done with the lives we laid aside?
Are they young with our youth, gold with our gold, my brother?
Do they smile in the face of death, because we died?
-Humbert Wolfe (From his poem, Solider)