I felt that this reading summed up very well the individual goals we in this class have been striving toward throughout the year. Teaching ourselves how to successful be with suffering, how to truly listen, and not to allow our selfish goals to could our minds and behaviors, are themes Bump has been driving into our skulls since the first day of class. However, until now, I have never seen them in action.
"The river laughed. Yes, so it was, everything came back, which had not been suffered and solved up to its end . . ." (Hesse, 119)
Although all of these aims are extremely difficult to achieve, it seems to me the one that requires the most constant, conscious effort is truly listening and sympathizing with those who are suffering. We talked a lot about this while reading How can I Help? "He sensed how his pain, his fears flowed over to him, how his secret hope flowed over, came back at him from his counterpart. To show his wounds to the listener was the same as bathing it in the river." (Hesse, 120) How on earth do we reach a state at which we can mimic this kind of compassionate listening? Bump has said many times that if we had ever been listened to like this, we would know it. In all my life, I can only say that I have been listened to once with utter attention and sympathy, and it was from, of all people, a cancer patient. Stephen Whitlow, whom I have spoken about before, was a good friend of mine throughout his battle with brain cancer, when he as around age thirteen. His mother was my piano teacher, and as such we would hang out every week after my lesson. I'd always thought that it was I who was there for him, playing legos, GameCube, or as his sickness took its toll, simply laying around. Never once in my memory, did he speak about his illness or its effect on him. Instead, he asked me how school was going, how our friends there were doing, what I was going to do over the summer. And for some reason, everything would spill our of my mouth in a wave. I try doing the same for him, but was always afraid to ask too much, afraid to talk about his cancer. As if not mentioning it would make it go away. It was only after Stephen died that I realized he had been the one helping me all along. I've spent my entire life, all the hard work I've done, trying to prove to myself that I could somehow make his death worthwhile. I wanted to live up to his memory. In truth, I was angry that somehow as innocent and incredible as Stephen had died, while I had lived. It seemed unfair. I've since moved past this unhappy notion, but I will never forget him or the way he cared for everyone over himself.
From an earlier section of Siddhartha, in which his son is grieving.
I remain convinced to this day that God spoke to me through Stephen. It always seemed the only explanation for the amount of wisdom he possessed, at such a young age. "this motionless man was the river itself, that he was God himself, that he was the eternal itself." (Hesse, 120) He is the reason that despite my reoccurring doubts or conflicted emotions, I have remained a Christian. I have to believe Stephen's death was for a reason, and that he lives on in heaven. He's also part of the reason I love music as I do. Stephen was a brilliant musician, and knowing that toward the end of his life he lost the ability to play is extremely painful. I do not know if I will ever learn to listen with the sympathy and compassion that he always showed me. But I will try. I hope that one day I can pass on that love, and do his memory justice. I also hope that one day I can feel about Stephen's death the way Siddhartha came to feel about the loss of his son. For now, he is a fond, albeit painful memory, that will forever have left a mark on my life. (literally, see my tattoo for reference)
These poems seemed the best example I've encountered thus far of a person that experiences the mystery in his life, every day. Each of his poems captured that much sought after "joie de vivre" which we discuss in class so often. Rum takes joy in every day experiences, suggesting that it is within the ordinary, not necessarily exceptional, that fills us up spiritually. "Until you've kept your eyes and your wanting still for fifty years, you don't begin to cross over from confusion." (Rumi, Anthology, 784) This idea runs counterintuitive to the mindset most of us adopt in college. We come here to do great things, in order to learn about ourselves and the world around us. Becoming still, learning to enjoy what seems to us mundane, is very difficult, as we rush to swallow one new experience after the other. I am certainly guilty of living life in a rush. The problem here, is that once you create the habit of rushing through life, even those experiences you'd consider extraordinary are never fully appreciated.
My grandfather, Newell Kinard (I call him Paw), is not a man most people would consider extraordinary. He has lived his entire life in north Texas, graduated from Paris Junior College with a master's in agriculture, and spent the majority of his life doing manual labor. He fought in World War II, was married to the same woman for almost 60 years, and has lived in the same home since he and my grandmother were married. Yet my grandfather, despite never having travelled around the world or becoming a lawyer or physician, is the wisest, most insightful man I know. He has this ability to cut right to the heart of any problem in a few simple words, and it's astounding. He is 90 years old, and only recently began to show that he was a day over 50. He is a true testament to the idea that clean, simple living is underrated.
my sister and mom, with paw at the bottom.
As Plan II, college age kids, we tend to overcomplicate and overanalyze. As we attempt to find ourselves, we lose what we knew about ourselves before. "I have lived on the lip of insanity, wanting to know reasons, knocking on a door. It opens. I've been knocking from the inside." (Rumi, Anthology, 785) The image of banging down a door, only to find that you were inside all along, is extremely powerful for someone feeling like they've lost their way. I experienced this exact sequence of emotion this year, in my attempts to figure out my major, and seeing that it was written by Rumi centuries ago was at once a shock and relief. As Bump has pointed out, we are not the first to experience these emotions. If someone ever said to my grandfather, "I have to find myself", he'd reply, "well make sure you start where you saw you the last." (That's a direct quote, btw)
College students also seem to forget the importance of having your roots firmly placed. "Anyone pulled from a source longs to go back." (Rumi, Anthology, 780) Once again, I have a tendency to under appreciate my home and roots. In fact, many times, I have tried to hide them. I didn't necessarily want people to know how southern my family was, or how I grew up. But the south, and the southern mentality, is my home and my roots. I want to start acknowledging that. What's more, I want to begin living in joy: to recognize the beauty in the previously mundane. If I can do that, It'll make the extraordinary that much greater.
"To me, it was paradise on earth . . . I spent more hours than I can count a quiet witness to the highly mannered, manifold expressions of life that grace our planet. It is something so bright, loud weird and delicate as to stupefy the senses." (Anthology 745-746)
We all have our own, personal definitions of paradise, an imagined space and time in which we would be most happy. To some, their paradise involves a specific location, many times associated with their childhood. "And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home." (Anthology 813) We long to recapture a time in our lives when we were carefree, able to grasp intuitively the wonders of the world, free of the clouds brought on by adulthood. Our childhood remains a pristine wonder, and we spend our entire lives trying to reclaim the past. Even Jesus said that we must love God like children. "Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'" Others find paradise in their religion, believing that we suffer in life so that we might reach paradise after death. And to others still, paradise is just simplicity: freedom from the stresses and trials of everyday reality.
The garden of Eden: A Christian interpretation of Paradise
To me, all of these definitions are predicated on the idea that paradise is impossible to achieve now. This is a very Western ideal: we must suffer in the present to be happy later. Most of us in this class, until coming to UT, formed our entire lives around this concept. We worked our asses off, all relief forgone, so that we might have success in the long term. But where does it stop? It's already near impossible to break these habits now, what about after 20 years of work and stress? We allow these destructive habits to control our lives because they seem necessary for our survival or success. "If a man, boldest and most intelligent of creatures, won't wander from place to place . . . why would an animal, which is by temperament far more conservative?" (Anthology 747) The animal opinions aside, why don't we break free? We can, many of us desire to, and know that we'd be happier and healthier. But we're comfortable in our suffering. Our lives end unfinished because we never stop to realize the beauty that exists all around us, every day. Crab has talked a lot recently about stopping to appreciate the fact that we're simply breathing, alive, a part of this world. But how often do any of us do that? "most humans see only the outer forms, unaware of the inner essence, just as they are unaware of their own essence and identity . . ." (Anthology 760)
An artist's interpretation of the Buddha's flower sermon, and the origin of Zen
I think we need to stop looking for some magical future in which we'll be allowed happiness without constraints, or can reclaim the simplicity of the past. Even if you are religious, which I consider myself to be, I refuse to believe that God would have created just a beautiful world only to test us, pass or fail, for the afterlife. He must be distraught, wishing desperately that we truly see this beautiful place for what it it. We have every reason to be happy now, because we are alive, we are here. We only do this once. Fucking ONCE. So let's make it count. Seriously, fuck the rules, and fuck what anyone else thinks. Life is amazing. Paradise is right here. MAKE THE CONNECTION.
The Mystery is at once the reason for and the bane of our existence. It can be defined as many things. For some, it is the question of life after death: where do we go after we die? And to many, the answer can be found in religion. In the Christian faith, for instance, practicing individuals believe that after they die they ascend to heaven to be with God; some say this occurs immediately, others at the end of days, but the eventual result is the same. Heaven for many is a kind of paradise, free from violence and earthly constraints. "They shall not hurt and destroy in all my holy mountain: for the earth shall be full of knowledge of the LORD, as the waters cover the sea . . ." (Isaiah 11:9, Anthology 709) To ancient civilizations such as the Greeks, the Mystery resided in the gods and the Underworld. Each civilization has had their own interpretation of this great mystery. But one thing is for sure: there will never be a single answer while on Earth.T
That's the point, though, isn't it? We'll never truly know, because the mystery isn't about where we go after we die, or even necessarily what we believe in. The Mystery envelops our entire existence. Who are we, and why are we here? What is our purpose? The joy is not is finding an answer, but in asking the question. "As long as we go on feeling this mystery we feel free and full and happy and we feel and act free and full and happy to others." (Anthology 730) There is great joy in acknowledging that we don't have all the answers, and are not intended to. There are things we'll never know, and that's a wonderful thing. Believing in the Mystery allows you to be inspired, and to believe in something greater than yourself, whether it is a specific religion, or simply in fighting for a cause for which you feel passionate. The Mystery allows us to go beyond what we believed we could do, to accomplish what before seemed impossible. And its the not knowing that really fuels us. "The need for mystery is greater than the need for an answer." (Anthology 723)
But there's a flip side to all of this. For many of us overachievers out there, knowing is about control. We want to make plans, to accurately predict and map out our future. We simply aren't comfortable with leaving a question unanswered. We realize that when we try, we lose a small piece of joy or contentment each time, but we can't help ourselves. There should not be any mystery we can't solve. "I've never seen anybody really find the answer-- they think they have, so they stop thinking." (Anthology 732) We're eventually left with an empty husk, which is filled up by the perceived expectations of others, or our professional ambitions. We put ourselves above the mystery and try to forget we have no control. How narcissistic.
In realizing this about myself, I've been trying very hard recently to reclaim the joy in life, and not be so dictated by what I want or where I want to get. I'm forcing myself to remember, as much as I can, that I am not the center of the universe. Two experiences this year have really helped me work on my self-destructive nature: this class, and my involvement with Texas 4000. I've learned the value and the joy that comes form service. the feeling of true empathy, and that relinquishing control makes life so much better. I hope I can continue along this track, and one day be an example for others of the contentment the Mystery brings.
p.s. to Professor Bump. I want to make sure you know that while we have recently in this class had issues, that I think we don't yet realize how valuable a class this has been. I will probably never have an experience like this again, and I will be extremely sad when it is over. Thank you for all you've done for us. It has changed us all for the better.
"Do to others what you would have them do to you"(Anthology 679), or the "Golden Rule", was a phrase I heard tossed around repeatedly throughout my childhood. So much, in fact, that the saying had all but lost its meaning to me by the time I was old enough to truly comprehend it. I grew up, as I've stated before, in a largely Christian community and household. Those christian values were equivalent to sum of my family's moral values, and they were all I was ever exposed to. However, around thirteen years of age I had a startling revelation, one that I'm sure many Christian kids experience at some point: Christians do not act like Jesus, or any sort of moral fashion similar to his teachings. Many Christians, in my opinion, act in a way that is precisely opposite from all of the Bible's teachings. Spouting the Bible as reference, we excuse ourselves from acting judgmental, hypocritical, selfish, and apathetic. We assuage our feelings of guilt by showing up to church or Bible study once a week, tossing some cash in the offering plate, and singing a hymn or two under our breath. We say we're not perfect, and as such write off anyone who calls out our hypocrisy, while passing judgement on others from afar.
For a long time this made me very angry. Honestly, it still does. In my opinion, the Bible lays out very clearly the expectations of moral and compassionate living, yet Christianity, almost the entirety of that group, ignores the very book we thump in reference. The largest corporations, most corrupt politicians, all claim to be full of "good Christian men and woman", as my grandfather liked to say. Yet we turn a blind eye because its advantageous. After this revelation, for a while I alienated myself from Christianity altogether. I read the Bible a lot, and took what little faith remained into my own hands. What I realized, in doing so, was that Jesus' teachings were full of love, compassion, and empathy. I gained a respect for his life that previously I'd never felt, even while claiming devotion. I wish terribly that Christians did not conduct themselves so far from their intended behavior. As such, I still do not know whether I qualify myself as one of them. What's more, one should not live compassionately just because of the threat of divine retribution, but because it is the right thing to do. In these readings, I've also realized how similar Christian teachings are to other religions. I'd always seen the connection between it, Judaism, and Islam, but I'd honestly never thought about Buddhism or Jainism. "Compassion is what makes the heart of the good move at the pain of others. . . It is called compassion because it shelters and embraces the distressed." (Anthology 680) So there you have it. Compassionate, the wish to aid those less fortunate than you, altruistic life. Why are we missing this?
One area that I find Christianity lacking, however, is its treatment of animals. Even if one truly lives by that Golden Rule, Christians hardly ever extend "treating others as they wish to be treated" to animals. As such, I was floored by the actions of Jainists. "An equality of all forms of life and reverence for all of them is his central teaching. He taught, 'as you live, do so to other.' In that definition of 'others,' he embraced all living being. . . " (anthology 699) Absolutely incredible. Mahavira lived during his time in a way few Western peoples can even begin to contemplate, much less strive to emulate. We in the West should all take a leaf out of his book. Every being has life, therefore deserves to be treated with compassion. They are equal to us in every way, not matter what we have told ourselves. The torture and death of animals violates our most basic ideals: treat others as you wish to be treated. Yet people rarely extend this compassion to other species. It's not a Western ideal. To truly live a compassionate life, one must extend their empathy and love to all beings. Period. We have of course discussed this many times, but this reading has, more than almost any other, driven that point home. I feel refueled, and newly motivated.
The question of “who do you want to be when you grow up” is one we have been asked—in increasingly serious fashion—since we were old enough to answer. At first our responses made our parents laugh, as we professed a desire to become a baker, football star, or in my case, an archaeologist. Yet as we grew, the question became more difficult to answer. We came home for Christmas break and found ourselves dreading that family member we haven’t seen in six months, asking what we plan to do with our major, or for that matter, what our major is this time around. I think about it all the time, more than is healthy, and I usually have a different answer prepared every time I am asked. But if I were ever asked what type of person I wanted to become, or how I wanted to be remembered, I would be brought up short. At this point, I can only answer in abstractions. My hopes for my future self have changed drastically since coming to college. I think, like everyone else, I became so exposed to the plethora of points of view and ways of life that it was impossible for some not to sink in. What’s more, my experiences in this class have altered my outlook on life and the future drastically. Before, any goals for my future state of being were so rooted in my career plans as to be indistinguishable. For a very long time, I wanted nothing more than to be a musician, or otherwise become successful monetarily. I never gave any thought to my future beyond my plans for a job. It was a selfish outlook, one that I tried to mask behind a belief that somehow these dreams were unselfish. I see life a bit differently now. My future is defined less in terms of career, as how that career will help benefit others. I simply, somehow, want to make a difference in the lives of the people around me. I can attain this ultimate goal through almost any career, great or small. If I can leave this world knowing I made a positive difference in the lives around me, I can leave fulfilled. That sounds like such a cliché remark. Who doesn’t want to make a difference? Sadly, few people ever get around to it. Hopefully I’ll be an exception.
One area in which I hope to elicit change is in our tendency to pass judgment or hold some form of prejudice against others. I feel that society, as a whole, tends to be unaccepting of those mindsets or lifestyles they find alien. Especially in the South, where I was raised, the “Christian” community is generally close-minded and judgmental. Growing up in an environment such as this, I feel drawn to combat these habits. Judgment from a community that by nature should be accepting infuriates me. I do not know how my career or life can help to end this specifically within Christians, but I hope to be an example of acceptance and love to those around me, and maybe even to elicit change on a large scale. This could mean working in policy or law to help end inequality, or becoming a leader in whatever community I find myself a part: leading by example. Another area in which I feel a strong pull to change is within the cancer community. Due to a few very personal experiences with cancer throughout my life, I’ve felt for a long time a desire to do something. There is no arguing that people are aware of cancer, yet it feels as if we are no closer to curing the disease than we were 20 years ago. I am no doctor or researcher, nor do I plan to be. So how can I help? I have chosen to do so, for now, through the Texas 4000 organization. I’ve chosen to raise awareness, funds, and knowledge for cancer research by riding form Austin to Anchorage, Alaska the summer after my sophomore year. Such a feat from this side of the ride seems insurmountable, but I feel extremely excited and blessed to be a part of the process, and to in my own way fight back. I feel as though I am standing up for those who cannot do so themselves, because they’re currently battling, or are already gone. I don’t yet know specifically how I will continue this fight once my ride is over, but I’m confidant an opportunity will present itself.
Although I feel that these goals are worthy, at times I lose sight of them altogether. I experience regularly what I felt the most after seeing Earthlings, a certain sense of helplessness. How can I in any way change the status quo, or benefit society? I’m one person. I can’t cure cancer or fight prejudice on my own. This is why the starfish story spoke to me so strongly, and gave me clear and strong motivation for my future. I had heard it from my mother a few times before, yet hearing it at this time in my life carried a weight that previously hadn’t been present. I suppose it’s because the telling was no longer just theoretical: some distant future where I will make all the right choices. “Don’t you there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish? You can’t make a difference! . . Then, smiling at the man, he said . . . ‘I made a difference for that one.’” (Anthology 246)
All of these personal goals for my future have seemed, for the past few years, to be leading me toward the study of law. I feel that through the obtaining of a law degree, I can achieve a vision for my future that would help me make a difference, fight judgment and prejudice, and aid those afflicted with cancer and other diseases. I could represent the interests of those afflicted, lobby for more medical subsidization of terminally ill patients. I could help end prejudice by working toward legislation legalizing gay marriage. I could fight for those who cannot do so otherwise. As is apparent, this dream leans toward law in a political sense. That may be in the cards, but I hope to elicit change either way.
With such an ambitious dream in mind, my decisions academically will play a major role in future success. You must do well in school overall to study law, but I feel that the majors I choose to complete will also impact my success in law radically. The writing classes I have taken and will take, including this class, will be tremendously helpful. Not only will they help me present myself in a sophisticated fashion in essays prior to entering law school, but learning to write effectively is invaluable to the profession. In law, the majority of one’s job lies in successfully making a claim, appealing to someone in a way that brings them to your side. One does this most successfully if they are well versed in rhetorical strategy. Effective writing is arguably one of the most important tools a lawyer possesses. Furthermore, my education through Plan II will broaden my awareness of others’ views, round me out as a student, and overall, teach me how to think. In Music Business, I will learn the ins and outs of the music industry, which will aid me in my goal of starting in copyright law and artistic or intellectual property. Not to mention that I will also be pursuing music, a personal passion. Added together, I hope my education at this University will give me the tools to succeed and set myself apart in the world of law. What’s more, the experiences I have here will help me become a grounded, confident human being, capable of wading through the marsh of modern society with ease. Hopefully, it will even eradicate that pesky perfectionism.
After such an exhaustive explanation of my character and career goals for the future, I feel better equipped to assess my plans for the next three years at UT. Of course I plan to do well in classes, gain fulfillment from various organizations, and take full advantage of all the opportunities provided me here. Hopefully, I can maintain a fairly good GPA; at least well enough to get into law school. I will complete all of my requirements for Texas 4000, and finally get on that bike for Alaska. I know the ride will create countless memories I'll never forget. I'll maybe get cast in a few more plays, and enjoy the creative process with like-minded people. I'll perform in ensembles, pass my juries, and complete my degrees. I will stress, pull all-nighters, and live on caffeine, and ultimately graduate. But this is only half the reason I’m here. If that. College is the time in our lives where we are most free to explore, to lustily devour every challenge presented. It’s where we foster relationships that last a lifetime, and mold ourselves into the kind of person we wish to become. This has absolutely nothing to do with grades. I want to leave behind, for once, my constant, nagging worries for the future, the need to be successful, and truly live. To some, this goal may contradict all the others, but I see it as a requirement along with all the rest. In the past, I’ve forgone making memories for building résumés, and regretted it each and every time. So now, I want to climb a mountain, ride a mountain bike to Alaska, pub hop in London and swim naked in the ocean. Those experiences that make life beautiful and worth living should be my first priority. I will love, hurt, laugh, cry, break bones, and conquer the world. I want to become happy, fulfilled, wise, and learn to love life and its inhabitants. That is why I am here, and that’s my plan. The rest will just be a bonus.
First off, let me say that writing this blog I could barely because I watched the last episodes of How I Met your Mother and I almost physically in pain I'm so upset by that ending. So yeah. Shit. Moving On.
During the reading from Planet of the Apes, I confess it took me a few pages to realize that I was not reading from the point of view of an ape, but an intelligent man. "They were apes, every one of them, gorillas and chimpanzees. They helped our guards unload the carts." (Anthology 635) I was not the captor, but the captive. How telling is this subconscious choice to become the superior creature! I automatically assumed that I myself, through the narrator, was among the chosen few, the privileged. This says a lot about the perceived place humans inhabit within the world. For most, there is no question that our race is superior, that something separates us from animals, whether this be divine or a recognition of our ability to reason. We see everything on our own terms.
These thoughts continued with in "A Report for an Academy". Red Peter, an ape turned "civilized", recognizes that the only way to purchase his "way out" is to become as humanlike as possible. "I imitated them because I was looking for a way out, for no other reason." (Anthology 677) Honestly, Red Peter's story made me incredibly sad and angry. Maybe that's just the How I Met Your Mother talking. He recognized a flaw in all humans better than any human could: a being is only as valuable as it is human-like. Red Peter only became intelligent because he learned the way we did, walked and talked like we do. In doing so, he lost his true nature, his ape-ness. "Nowadays, of course, I can portray those ape-like feelings only in human words." (Anthology 674) Not only that, but he actually seemed to believe we were right to treat him this way. Of course, this may have been just a facade; he was just playing the game. In so doing, we become the ignorant animals, easily deceived, and he becomes our master. We strip of his true self, his heritage, his entire being, and in the end, he gives us exactly what we expected: he thanks us for it. We must learn to respect all life for what it is, and not relative to how closely it may resemble us. Maybe that's really what separates us from the animals: our unflinching belief in the lies we tell ourselves.
In relation to animal experimentation, we allow ourselves to continue due to this inherent belief in superiority. Maybe if we stopped to realize that we are one animal among many, people would see it differently. But I expect, as with Red Peter, that we will continue, at least in the immediate future, to fool ourselves into thinking we're always the intellectually and thus overall superior race, even if evidence directly to the contrary is staring us in the face.
