I love this book. I know it's been out for a while, but I'm just not getting around to really reading it. I'm on page 68 right now, and I ran across this quote that I thought was really interesting, if mostly irrelevant to her overall experiment. It's a great question worth considering:
"I can't help letting my mind wander to the implications of Alzheimer's disease to the immortal soul. Who wants an afterlife if the immediate pre-afterlife is spent clutching the arms of a wheelchair, head bent back at a forty-five degree angle, eyes and mouth wide open and equally mute, like so many of my charges at the Woodcrest [a nursing home facility where the author works on weekends]? Is the 'soul' that lives forever the one we possess at the moment of death, in which case heaven must look something like the Woodcrest, with plenty of CNAs and dietary aides to take care of those who died in a state of mental decomposition? Or is it our personally best soul -- say, the one that indwells in us at the height of our cognitive powers and moral aspirations? In which case, it can't possibly matter whether demented [that is, patients suffering from dementia] diabetics eat cupcakes or not, because from a purely soteriological standpoint, they're already dead."
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
eat pray love
I am the Queen of Long Blog Posts.
So I started this blog with the intention of writing about books I liked. Then I realized that no one really cared what I thought about books but did care about what I was doing in England and were a little interested in what I was thinking, so I blogged about that. Now we're back to books.
Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert is amazing. I loved reading it. This book was referenced pretty constantly in the American autobiography course I took this past Spring, but I never had time to read more than the first few pages. I liked it then, but couldn't quite get back to it. A dear friend of mine has recently read it, though, and loved it, and that motivated me to really read it. So I did, and it's great. A warning for people in my church book club: the last 50 pages or so might make a few of you uncomfortable. But I still loved it.
I have long been fascinated by the spiritual journey people who consciously seek out God take. I don't honestly consider myself a seeker in that way. I feel like I've known God my whole life and that as the years progress, I just get to know Him to better and more thoroughly, like with any friendship. (Though, obviously, I'm a pretty terrible friend.) Or maybe, being an academic, meeting God like school to me. You complete one grade and then move on to the next, picking up more knowledge as you go. Kindergartners don't need to worry about not knowing how to do calculus yet. When the time is right, they'll get to learn it. I'm probably still in God Preschool, but I have confidence that eventually I'll get to junior high. :) I also feel that I'm very blessed to have started out in a family so familiar with God to begin with. I am way to lazy to have sought Him out on my own.
Anyway, with that in mind, I absolutely love reading well-written spiritual memoir. Girl Meets God is a favorite of mine, but I like Eat Pray Love for totally different reasons. Maybe it isn't even fair to call it spiritual memoir. Maybe it's a post-divorce memoir. Maybe it's a travelogue. Whatever it is, Gilbert is able to lay all her mess on the table and then to reconstruct it into this lovely and true mosaic for her readers, to show how the mess has meaning. She's a much braver writer than I could ever be. Also, as a composition teacher, I can't help but admire the way she crafts a paragraph.
This book honestly speaks best for itself. It is divided into three places: Italy ("eat"), India ("pray"), and Indonesia/Bali ("love"). I am not including any quotes from the Italy section because 1. I loved the whole section and 2. The words don't seem to stand as well out of context. I will agree with Gilbert, though, that Italian is a language that is only beautiful- la piu bella lingua nel mondo in truth. I loved reading about her time there because she included so much Italian. It was like becoming reacquainted with an old friend. Anyhow, just because I'm not including quotes from the Italy section doesn't mean it wasn't awesome. It was.
Here are some other quotes:
p. 175 "The search for God is a reversal of the normal, mindane worldly order. In the search for God, you revert from what attracts you and swim toward that which is difficult. You abandon your comforting and familiar habits with the hope (the mere hope!) that something greater will be offered you in return for what you've given up. . . . We all agree that it would be easier to sleep in , and many of us do, but for millennia there have been others who choose instead to get up before the sun and wash their faces and go to their prayers. And then fircely try to hold on to their devotional convictions throughout the lunacy of another day."
p. 177 "Prayer is a relationship; half the job is mind. If I want transformation, but can't even be bothered to articulate what, exactly, I'm aiming for, how will it ever occur? Half the benefit of prayer is in the asking itself, in the offering of a clearly posed and well-considered intention. If you don't have this, all your please and desires are boneless, floppy, inert; they swirl at your feet in a cold fog and never lift. . . . If I don't feel sincere [when I pray], then I wills tay there on the floor until i do.. What worked yesterday doesn't always work today. Prayers can become stale and drone into the boring and familiar if you let your attention stagnate. In making an effort to stay alert, I am assuming custodial responsibility for the maintenance of my own soul."
p. 192 "We all seem to get this idea that, in order to be sacred, we have to make some massive, dramatic change of character, that we have to renounce our individuality. . . . Constantly [Swamiji] was teaching that austerity and renunciation -- just for their own sake -- are not what you need. To know God, you need only to renounce one thing -- your sense of division from God. Otherwise, just stay as you were made, within your natural character."
p. 207 "What I'm seeing in some of my friends, though, as they are aging, is a longing to have something to believe in. But this longing chages against any number of obstacles, including their intellect and common sense. Despite all their intellect, though, these people still live in a world that careens about in a series of wild and devastating and completely nonsensical lurches. Great and horrible experiences of either suffering or joy occur in the lives of all these people, just as with the rest of us, and these mega-experiences tend to make us long for a spiritual context in which to express either lament or gratitude, or to seek understanding. the problem is -- what to worship, whom to pray to?"
p. 260 "She says that people universally tend to think that happiness is a stroke of luck, something that will amybe descend upon you like fine weather if you're fortunate enough. But that's not how happiness works. Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and somethimes even travel around the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlylessly in the manifestations of your own blessings. And once you have achieved a state of happiness, you must never become lax about maintaining it, you must make a mighty effot to keep swimming upward into that happiness forever, to stay afloat on top of it. If you don't, you will leak away your innate contenement. It's easy enough to pray when you're in distress but continuing to pray even when your crisis has passed is like a sealing process, helping your soul hold tight to its good attainments."
p. 271 "'Why does suffering never end?' Wayan asked. She wasn't crying, merely posing a simple, unanswerable question. 'why must everything be repeat and repeat, never finish, never resting? You work so hard one day, but the next day, you must only work again. You eat, but the next day, you are already hungry. You find love, then love go away. You are born with nothing -- no watch, no T-shirt. You are young, then you are old. No matter how hard you work, you cannot stop getting old.'"
p. 276-7 "Only the young and stupid are confident about sex and romance. Do you think any of us know what we're doing? Do you think there's any way humans can love each other without complication? . . . It's still two human beings trying to get along, so it's going to become complicated. And love is always complicated. But still humans must try to love each other, darling. We must get our hearts broken soemtimes. This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something."
p. 286 "I have given myself away in love many times, merely for the sake of love. And I've given away the farm soemtimes in that process. If I am to truly become an autonomous woman, then I must take over that role of being my own guardian."
p. 318 "The baby looked up, looked around, smiled. She wasn't a god anymore. She didn't seem to mind. She wasn't fearful at all. She seemed thoroughly satisfied with every decision she had ever made."
p. 325 "The Yogic sages say that all the pain of a human life is caused by words, as is all the joy. We create words to define our experience and those words bring attendant emotions that jerk us around like dogs on a leash. We get seduced by our own mantras (I'm a failure. . . I'm lonely . . . I'm a failure . . . I'm lonely. . .) and we become monuments to them. To stop talking for a while, then, is to attempt to strip away the power of words, to stop choking ourselves with words, to liberate ourselves from our suffocating mantras."
p. 328 "I knew then that this is how God loves us all and receives us all . . . . Because if one broken and limited human being could experience even one such episode of absolute forgiveness and acceptance of her won self, then imagine -- just imagine!-- what God, in all His eternal compassion, can forgive and accept."
p. 329 -30 "[The Zen Buddhists] say that an oak tree is brought into creation by two forces at the same time. Obviously, there is the acorn from which it all begins, the seed which holds all the promise and potential, which grows into the tree. Everybody can see that. But only a few can recognize that there is another force operating here as well-- the future tree itself, which wants so badly to exist that it pulls the acorn into being, drawing the seedling forth with longing out of the void, guiding the evolution from nothingness to maturity. In this respect, say the Zens, it is the oak tree that creates the very acorn from which it was born.
"I think about the woman I have become lately, about the life that I am now living, and about how much I always wanted to be this person and live this life, liberated from the farce of pretending to be anyone other than myself. I think of everything I endured before getting ehre and wonder if it was me . . . who pulled the other, younger, more confused and more struggling me forward during all those hard years."
So I started this blog with the intention of writing about books I liked. Then I realized that no one really cared what I thought about books but did care about what I was doing in England and were a little interested in what I was thinking, so I blogged about that. Now we're back to books.
Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert is amazing. I loved reading it. This book was referenced pretty constantly in the American autobiography course I took this past Spring, but I never had time to read more than the first few pages. I liked it then, but couldn't quite get back to it. A dear friend of mine has recently read it, though, and loved it, and that motivated me to really read it. So I did, and it's great. A warning for people in my church book club: the last 50 pages or so might make a few of you uncomfortable. But I still loved it.
I have long been fascinated by the spiritual journey people who consciously seek out God take. I don't honestly consider myself a seeker in that way. I feel like I've known God my whole life and that as the years progress, I just get to know Him to better and more thoroughly, like with any friendship. (Though, obviously, I'm a pretty terrible friend.) Or maybe, being an academic, meeting God like school to me. You complete one grade and then move on to the next, picking up more knowledge as you go. Kindergartners don't need to worry about not knowing how to do calculus yet. When the time is right, they'll get to learn it. I'm probably still in God Preschool, but I have confidence that eventually I'll get to junior high. :) I also feel that I'm very blessed to have started out in a family so familiar with God to begin with. I am way to lazy to have sought Him out on my own.
Anyway, with that in mind, I absolutely love reading well-written spiritual memoir. Girl Meets God is a favorite of mine, but I like Eat Pray Love for totally different reasons. Maybe it isn't even fair to call it spiritual memoir. Maybe it's a post-divorce memoir. Maybe it's a travelogue. Whatever it is, Gilbert is able to lay all her mess on the table and then to reconstruct it into this lovely and true mosaic for her readers, to show how the mess has meaning. She's a much braver writer than I could ever be. Also, as a composition teacher, I can't help but admire the way she crafts a paragraph.
This book honestly speaks best for itself. It is divided into three places: Italy ("eat"), India ("pray"), and Indonesia/Bali ("love"). I am not including any quotes from the Italy section because 1. I loved the whole section and 2. The words don't seem to stand as well out of context. I will agree with Gilbert, though, that Italian is a language that is only beautiful- la piu bella lingua nel mondo in truth. I loved reading about her time there because she included so much Italian. It was like becoming reacquainted with an old friend. Anyhow, just because I'm not including quotes from the Italy section doesn't mean it wasn't awesome. It was.
Here are some other quotes:
p. 175 "The search for God is a reversal of the normal, mindane worldly order. In the search for God, you revert from what attracts you and swim toward that which is difficult. You abandon your comforting and familiar habits with the hope (the mere hope!) that something greater will be offered you in return for what you've given up. . . . We all agree that it would be easier to sleep in , and many of us do, but for millennia there have been others who choose instead to get up before the sun and wash their faces and go to their prayers. And then fircely try to hold on to their devotional convictions throughout the lunacy of another day."
p. 177 "Prayer is a relationship; half the job is mind. If I want transformation, but can't even be bothered to articulate what, exactly, I'm aiming for, how will it ever occur? Half the benefit of prayer is in the asking itself, in the offering of a clearly posed and well-considered intention. If you don't have this, all your please and desires are boneless, floppy, inert; they swirl at your feet in a cold fog and never lift. . . . If I don't feel sincere [when I pray], then I wills tay there on the floor until i do.. What worked yesterday doesn't always work today. Prayers can become stale and drone into the boring and familiar if you let your attention stagnate. In making an effort to stay alert, I am assuming custodial responsibility for the maintenance of my own soul."
p. 192 "We all seem to get this idea that, in order to be sacred, we have to make some massive, dramatic change of character, that we have to renounce our individuality. . . . Constantly [Swamiji] was teaching that austerity and renunciation -- just for their own sake -- are not what you need. To know God, you need only to renounce one thing -- your sense of division from God. Otherwise, just stay as you were made, within your natural character."
p. 207 "What I'm seeing in some of my friends, though, as they are aging, is a longing to have something to believe in. But this longing chages against any number of obstacles, including their intellect and common sense. Despite all their intellect, though, these people still live in a world that careens about in a series of wild and devastating and completely nonsensical lurches. Great and horrible experiences of either suffering or joy occur in the lives of all these people, just as with the rest of us, and these mega-experiences tend to make us long for a spiritual context in which to express either lament or gratitude, or to seek understanding. the problem is -- what to worship, whom to pray to?"
p. 260 "She says that people universally tend to think that happiness is a stroke of luck, something that will amybe descend upon you like fine weather if you're fortunate enough. But that's not how happiness works. Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and somethimes even travel around the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlylessly in the manifestations of your own blessings. And once you have achieved a state of happiness, you must never become lax about maintaining it, you must make a mighty effot to keep swimming upward into that happiness forever, to stay afloat on top of it. If you don't, you will leak away your innate contenement. It's easy enough to pray when you're in distress but continuing to pray even when your crisis has passed is like a sealing process, helping your soul hold tight to its good attainments."
p. 271 "'Why does suffering never end?' Wayan asked. She wasn't crying, merely posing a simple, unanswerable question. 'why must everything be repeat and repeat, never finish, never resting? You work so hard one day, but the next day, you must only work again. You eat, but the next day, you are already hungry. You find love, then love go away. You are born with nothing -- no watch, no T-shirt. You are young, then you are old. No matter how hard you work, you cannot stop getting old.'"
p. 276-7 "Only the young and stupid are confident about sex and romance. Do you think any of us know what we're doing? Do you think there's any way humans can love each other without complication? . . . It's still two human beings trying to get along, so it's going to become complicated. And love is always complicated. But still humans must try to love each other, darling. We must get our hearts broken soemtimes. This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something."
p. 286 "I have given myself away in love many times, merely for the sake of love. And I've given away the farm soemtimes in that process. If I am to truly become an autonomous woman, then I must take over that role of being my own guardian."
p. 318 "The baby looked up, looked around, smiled. She wasn't a god anymore. She didn't seem to mind. She wasn't fearful at all. She seemed thoroughly satisfied with every decision she had ever made."
p. 325 "The Yogic sages say that all the pain of a human life is caused by words, as is all the joy. We create words to define our experience and those words bring attendant emotions that jerk us around like dogs on a leash. We get seduced by our own mantras (I'm a failure. . . I'm lonely . . . I'm a failure . . . I'm lonely. . .) and we become monuments to them. To stop talking for a while, then, is to attempt to strip away the power of words, to stop choking ourselves with words, to liberate ourselves from our suffocating mantras."
p. 328 "I knew then that this is how God loves us all and receives us all . . . . Because if one broken and limited human being could experience even one such episode of absolute forgiveness and acceptance of her won self, then imagine -- just imagine!-- what God, in all His eternal compassion, can forgive and accept."
p. 329 -30 "[The Zen Buddhists] say that an oak tree is brought into creation by two forces at the same time. Obviously, there is the acorn from which it all begins, the seed which holds all the promise and potential, which grows into the tree. Everybody can see that. But only a few can recognize that there is another force operating here as well-- the future tree itself, which wants so badly to exist that it pulls the acorn into being, drawing the seedling forth with longing out of the void, guiding the evolution from nothingness to maturity. In this respect, say the Zens, it is the oak tree that creates the very acorn from which it was born.
"I think about the woman I have become lately, about the life that I am now living, and about how much I always wanted to be this person and live this life, liberated from the farce of pretending to be anyone other than myself. I think of everything I endured before getting ehre and wonder if it was me . . . who pulled the other, younger, more confused and more struggling me forward during all those hard years."
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Unoriginal Thoughts on Love
I have resisted writing this particular post for a very long time. I think American (n.b. when I use the term "American," I'm referring to the United States, and I'm only using the term American because I am one and it's what I know. The things I label as true for America could very well be true for Samoa as well, but how would I know?) advertising has made love banal as an idea and that contemporary academic cynicism has made it impossible to feel sincerely. Since my feelings are (to me) neither banal nor fake, I don't want them to be interpreted that way, but I question my ability to express them any other way. I've tried to avoid the issue by, well, avoiding the issue. Also, I'm still pretty muddled about what I think, so all these declaratives below are really more like thoughts that I'm pretty sure about, but could be persuaded to think differently on. So here are the four things I think about love right now: 1. There is not enough language to describe all the kinds of love there are in the world. 2. Love is not a thing-- so it can't be "given" or "deserved." 3. Loving is hard. The beauty of a romance comes from overcoming obstacles, not from the total absence of obstacles. We cheer for the eucatastrophe. We're bored when nothing happens. 4. Love is an honorable risk. I know that better, more poetic, minds than mine have covered this before, but goshdarnit, this is the Age of Information and this my blog, so I can say what I think about love here. Shakespeare can get his own blog.
First, I think we're faced with lingusitic failure when it comes to describing some things. This shows up most tragically, in my opinion, in many spiritual autobiographies and in terrible, terrible Christian fiction. John may have been able to encode Christ and his workings (John 1:1), but very few writers outside of scripture have similar capabilities. A finite, mortal mind cannot comprehend the totality of Deity (making an exception for the inspired), so how could it express it? We can come close, but cannot express the whole picture. Maybe I'm just a child of postmodernism, but at some point, language just breaks down. Some things are beyond expression.
For me, love is this way. I tell my husband regularly that I love him, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what he means to me. I mean, he knows he's important to me and that I like him better than anyone else and that I plan on doing that forever, but there's a lot involved in my love for him that "I love you" doesn't catch. My personal history, my romantic history, and my current mood all weight and shade those three little words a certain way. Every time I say "I love you," I can't say "Thanks for laughing at that Wedge Antilles joke I told before we were dating that no one else caught." I can't say "Thanks for getting me a new car and not being mad when I wrecked my old one and thought I was going to die." I can't say "Thanks for not being emotionally or sexually abusive." I can't say "Thanks for putting clean towels in the bathroom." You get the general idea. I can't say all these things every single time I say "I love you," but all of those things (and more!) are what I'm feeling when I say "I love you." And that's just when I say it to my husband.
There just aren't enough words in English to describe every kind of affectionate relationship (nor are there in Greek, either, though Biblical scholars might lead you to believe so). Part of me wonders whether this Prop 8 issue isn't partly linguistic in origin. Lots of people who voted for Prop 8 also voted for an expansion of domestic partnership rights in previous years. It seems that some heterosexual couples engaged in a legal contract just aren't comfortable using the same word that describes their relationship to describe a relationship between homosexual copules engaged in almost the same social contract (the word I'm referring to is, obviously, "marriage"). If supporters of Prop 8 feel that there is a real difference between heterosexual and homosexual couples, maybe they should be supporting new words to describe these relationships more accurately. And what about relationships that fall outside hetero/homsexual lines? I have a friend-who-is-a-female with whom I hope to grow old and happy, but we're not interested in each other sexually. She's more than my best friend and she's not a girlfriend. We're plenty physically affectionate, but again, not sexually. What word describes our relationship? What about close male relationships outside of family bonds? What about specific family members that you're close to? There should be a verb to describe the way you feel about the aunt you went shopping for prom dresses with and another verb to describe how you feel about the grandmother you only saw once before she died when you were three, but who you've heard a lot of stories about and feel positively towards. We just don't have these words. "Love" has to pull extra shifts to cover these gaps in our language.
Of course, even if we did have words in our language to cover that range of relationships, we still wouldn't be able to express ourselves all that accurately. De Saussure insists (and I believe him) that there is a difference in the word for a thing and the thing itself. Hence we have as many words for "tree" as there are languages, and yet they all refer to tree. The word describing the thing itself is arbitrarily chosen and irrelevant, mostly-- it just matters that we know what "tree" means when we hear it. There's this gap, though, where there's room for me to imagine either a teensy mesquite bush or stately sequoia when someone says "tree." Even if we use more specific language, say "sequoia," that gap remains. So, in some sense, I can never tell my husband how much I love him.
Because of this linguistic miasma (a.k.a. "play," thank-you Derrida), we get tricked into thinking all kinds of things about love. One of the things that I run into most often that I don't agree with is that love is something people can deserve. I'm not sure if it's the Christian or the cynic in me, but if we only loved people who "deserved" it, then no one would have any love. Every single person I know has let me down at some point. Nobody's perfect. This doesn't mean that they're bad people-- they're all very good people!-- it just means that they are People. Futhermore, the scriptures (an authority on love to me) don't say "Love the people who treat you nicely and give you compliments all the time and hook you up with a good job and a fancy car and think the same whay you think." The scriptures say that we should love our neighbors as ourselves (Luke 10:2&) and (if we believe The Book of Matthew, and I do) that we should love our enemies, bless those that curse us, do good to those who hate us, and pray for those who despitefully use you and persecute us. Do those sound like people who deserve to be loved? And yet this is what we (Christians) are called to do. If we were better at it, there'd be a lot less conflict in the world. My point is, no one deserves to be loved, so that shouldn't be a reason why we love. We should love because it's good for us, just like we should eat vegetables instead of potato chips because it's good for us. It's a choice we make and need to continue to make.
I don't think we need to make ourselves doormats, though. I think "forgiveness" is such a wonderful principle because it allows us to recognize that we've been wronged while giving us a way to move forward in love. When I can forgive my ex-husband (and in some moods I can't, though those are rarer now), I'm able to say "You were such a jerk to me" and I'm able to have compassion (a kind of love) for his situation. That doesn't mean I'll ever trust him again, but it means I can move on without rancor. It's possible to recognize that someone is harmful and still love them.
True love, in my mind, can't exist without forgiveness. Forgiveness is hard, but so is love generally. I really like what C.S. Lewis says in The Weight of Glory, "Our charity must be a real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner -- no mere tolerance or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbour is the holiest object presented to your sense." Love is a difficult thing. Is it any wonder that Mormons advocate eternal marriage? It seems to me that it would take an eternity to work out living in that tension of having on the one hand "deep feeling for the sins," or an awareness of the many, many ways in which we've been wronged and on the other, "we love the sinner." Forgive, forgive, forgive, so that we can love.
In that same passage, Lewis also declares that "there are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilation -- these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit -- immortal horrors or everlasting splendours." This eternal perspective is what makes love worth it to me. I move an awful, awful lot and am terribly shy. Sometimes it seems like even making friends is not worth the effort when I know that as soon as I move, they won't be willing to put out the effort required to maintain long-distance friendships. Still, I feel certain that at the end of all things, the effort we put into our relationships with others comes back to us. Is there any greater adventure than love? Death is the only thing I can think of that might come close. I think loving is an essential part of living fully. If that means getting hurt (terribly, terribly hurt) sometimes, I still say it's worth it. Love is always an experiment. I have very loving relationships with many people and I've had terrifying, destructive relationships, so I feel qualified to say that the work I put into nurturing these relationships and the risk I take in making myself vulnerable to them has been worth the trouble. When I love, I know that I am alive. When I love, I know that I am human. When I love, I know that I am not alone.
This is a really long post. I'm struggling against ineffability here. Tell me what you think. I'm willing to be wrong.
First, I think we're faced with lingusitic failure when it comes to describing some things. This shows up most tragically, in my opinion, in many spiritual autobiographies and in terrible, terrible Christian fiction. John may have been able to encode Christ and his workings (John 1:1), but very few writers outside of scripture have similar capabilities. A finite, mortal mind cannot comprehend the totality of Deity (making an exception for the inspired), so how could it express it? We can come close, but cannot express the whole picture. Maybe I'm just a child of postmodernism, but at some point, language just breaks down. Some things are beyond expression.
For me, love is this way. I tell my husband regularly that I love him, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what he means to me. I mean, he knows he's important to me and that I like him better than anyone else and that I plan on doing that forever, but there's a lot involved in my love for him that "I love you" doesn't catch. My personal history, my romantic history, and my current mood all weight and shade those three little words a certain way. Every time I say "I love you," I can't say "Thanks for laughing at that Wedge Antilles joke I told before we were dating that no one else caught." I can't say "Thanks for getting me a new car and not being mad when I wrecked my old one and thought I was going to die." I can't say "Thanks for not being emotionally or sexually abusive." I can't say "Thanks for putting clean towels in the bathroom." You get the general idea. I can't say all these things every single time I say "I love you," but all of those things (and more!) are what I'm feeling when I say "I love you." And that's just when I say it to my husband.
There just aren't enough words in English to describe every kind of affectionate relationship (nor are there in Greek, either, though Biblical scholars might lead you to believe so). Part of me wonders whether this Prop 8 issue isn't partly linguistic in origin. Lots of people who voted for Prop 8 also voted for an expansion of domestic partnership rights in previous years. It seems that some heterosexual couples engaged in a legal contract just aren't comfortable using the same word that describes their relationship to describe a relationship between homosexual copules engaged in almost the same social contract (the word I'm referring to is, obviously, "marriage"). If supporters of Prop 8 feel that there is a real difference between heterosexual and homosexual couples, maybe they should be supporting new words to describe these relationships more accurately. And what about relationships that fall outside hetero/homsexual lines? I have a friend-who-is-a-female with whom I hope to grow old and happy, but we're not interested in each other sexually. She's more than my best friend and she's not a girlfriend. We're plenty physically affectionate, but again, not sexually. What word describes our relationship? What about close male relationships outside of family bonds? What about specific family members that you're close to? There should be a verb to describe the way you feel about the aunt you went shopping for prom dresses with and another verb to describe how you feel about the grandmother you only saw once before she died when you were three, but who you've heard a lot of stories about and feel positively towards. We just don't have these words. "Love" has to pull extra shifts to cover these gaps in our language.
Of course, even if we did have words in our language to cover that range of relationships, we still wouldn't be able to express ourselves all that accurately. De Saussure insists (and I believe him) that there is a difference in the word for a thing and the thing itself. Hence we have as many words for "tree" as there are languages, and yet they all refer to tree. The word describing the thing itself is arbitrarily chosen and irrelevant, mostly-- it just matters that we know what "tree" means when we hear it. There's this gap, though, where there's room for me to imagine either a teensy mesquite bush or stately sequoia when someone says "tree." Even if we use more specific language, say "sequoia," that gap remains. So, in some sense, I can never tell my husband how much I love him.
Because of this linguistic miasma (a.k.a. "play," thank-you Derrida), we get tricked into thinking all kinds of things about love. One of the things that I run into most often that I don't agree with is that love is something people can deserve. I'm not sure if it's the Christian or the cynic in me, but if we only loved people who "deserved" it, then no one would have any love. Every single person I know has let me down at some point. Nobody's perfect. This doesn't mean that they're bad people-- they're all very good people!-- it just means that they are People. Futhermore, the scriptures (an authority on love to me) don't say "Love the people who treat you nicely and give you compliments all the time and hook you up with a good job and a fancy car and think the same whay you think." The scriptures say that we should love our neighbors as ourselves (Luke 10:2&) and (if we believe The Book of Matthew, and I do) that we should love our enemies, bless those that curse us, do good to those who hate us, and pray for those who despitefully use you and persecute us. Do those sound like people who deserve to be loved? And yet this is what we (Christians) are called to do. If we were better at it, there'd be a lot less conflict in the world. My point is, no one deserves to be loved, so that shouldn't be a reason why we love. We should love because it's good for us, just like we should eat vegetables instead of potato chips because it's good for us. It's a choice we make and need to continue to make.
I don't think we need to make ourselves doormats, though. I think "forgiveness" is such a wonderful principle because it allows us to recognize that we've been wronged while giving us a way to move forward in love. When I can forgive my ex-husband (and in some moods I can't, though those are rarer now), I'm able to say "You were such a jerk to me" and I'm able to have compassion (a kind of love) for his situation. That doesn't mean I'll ever trust him again, but it means I can move on without rancor. It's possible to recognize that someone is harmful and still love them.
True love, in my mind, can't exist without forgiveness. Forgiveness is hard, but so is love generally. I really like what C.S. Lewis says in The Weight of Glory, "Our charity must be a real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner -- no mere tolerance or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbour is the holiest object presented to your sense." Love is a difficult thing. Is it any wonder that Mormons advocate eternal marriage? It seems to me that it would take an eternity to work out living in that tension of having on the one hand "deep feeling for the sins," or an awareness of the many, many ways in which we've been wronged and on the other, "we love the sinner." Forgive, forgive, forgive, so that we can love.
In that same passage, Lewis also declares that "there are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilation -- these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit -- immortal horrors or everlasting splendours." This eternal perspective is what makes love worth it to me. I move an awful, awful lot and am terribly shy. Sometimes it seems like even making friends is not worth the effort when I know that as soon as I move, they won't be willing to put out the effort required to maintain long-distance friendships. Still, I feel certain that at the end of all things, the effort we put into our relationships with others comes back to us. Is there any greater adventure than love? Death is the only thing I can think of that might come close. I think loving is an essential part of living fully. If that means getting hurt (terribly, terribly hurt) sometimes, I still say it's worth it. Love is always an experiment. I have very loving relationships with many people and I've had terrifying, destructive relationships, so I feel qualified to say that the work I put into nurturing these relationships and the risk I take in making myself vulnerable to them has been worth the trouble. When I love, I know that I am alive. When I love, I know that I am human. When I love, I know that I am not alone.
This is a really long post. I'm struggling against ineffability here. Tell me what you think. I'm willing to be wrong.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Prairie Home Companion
So, I'm not actually a senior citizen, but sometimes I act like one, like when I listen to A Prairie Home Companion. That show is just so funny to me and I love the music. So David heard that they were coming to do a show in Abilene and got tickets for us to go see it. Since he doesn't really care for the show (he only tolerates it because I like it so much), this was extra-nice of him.
We went to the show and had a great time. My camera battery ran out before the end of the show, so I wasn't able to take as many pictures as I would've liked, but that's ok with me. I got a "POEM" T-shirt (Professional Organizationof English Majors) and we went out to Sonic afterwards.
The program included this little column that I really liked, so I thought I'd share it here as well. It's a regular column on PHC's website called "The View from Mrs. Sundberg's Window."
"Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I's been a long stretch of days without much sun, and the rain came down in patches most of the weekend. It's that time of year again, the ol' switcheroo, when summer gives it on up to autmn and everything takes a step forward. Not long before the cold air hits, and that's what I'm looking forward to -- cold weather, and everything that comes with it. Bonfires and hot chocolate and extra blankets and starry nights. Bring it on. Bring it all on, icicles and snow included.
"I know it's healthy and all to live in the moment, and I do, for the most part, but I've always enjoyed having something to look forward to. It gives you something to think upon if you're waiting for dessert or a bus, and the string of all those good things kind of carries you through life. A crappy day is somehoe made nicer when you have a dinner party to look forward to, and a root canal isn't such an ordeal if you can think about your upcoming trip to Yuma.
"Seems, though, there are people who aren't as interested in where they're going as in where they've been. Not that this is a bad thing. They simply enjoy reminiscing and reliving experiences again and again by watching videos or looking at photos and telling the stories. Part of the purpose of going somewhere or doing something is so that, at some point, the experience can be shared. These people carry maps; these people have gear.
"I'm all for the gear peopple and the scrapbooking memory-people. I'll even admit to a bit of envy. I'm just not one of them. I have a camera but I'd rather not risk the moment ot look for it. The perfect shot rarely presents itself and I'm a clumsy woman. I enjoy taking photos, but where on Planet Earth would I find time to cut, paste, label and trim? I'd much rather be out doing something that might be photographed and scrapbooked. Like that 12-hour Tramping for the Hooters trampoline fundraiser for the nature center owl refuge I did in August with Mr. Sundberg. Or serving chili over at the Boy Scout camp one autumn. Or building snowmen. Riding the Ferris wheel at the Winter Carnival. Skating with the kids. Gathering rosebuds. all of which I look forward to."
Wanna see pics? Try to view them here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=63588&id=500823168&ref=mf. Let me know if that link doesn't work.
We went to the show and had a great time. My camera battery ran out before the end of the show, so I wasn't able to take as many pictures as I would've liked, but that's ok with me. I got a "POEM" T-shirt (Professional Organizationof English Majors) and we went out to Sonic afterwards.
The program included this little column that I really liked, so I thought I'd share it here as well. It's a regular column on PHC's website called "The View from Mrs. Sundberg's Window."
"Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I's been a long stretch of days without much sun, and the rain came down in patches most of the weekend. It's that time of year again, the ol' switcheroo, when summer gives it on up to autmn and everything takes a step forward. Not long before the cold air hits, and that's what I'm looking forward to -- cold weather, and everything that comes with it. Bonfires and hot chocolate and extra blankets and starry nights. Bring it on. Bring it all on, icicles and snow included.
"I know it's healthy and all to live in the moment, and I do, for the most part, but I've always enjoyed having something to look forward to. It gives you something to think upon if you're waiting for dessert or a bus, and the string of all those good things kind of carries you through life. A crappy day is somehoe made nicer when you have a dinner party to look forward to, and a root canal isn't such an ordeal if you can think about your upcoming trip to Yuma.
"Seems, though, there are people who aren't as interested in where they're going as in where they've been. Not that this is a bad thing. They simply enjoy reminiscing and reliving experiences again and again by watching videos or looking at photos and telling the stories. Part of the purpose of going somewhere or doing something is so that, at some point, the experience can be shared. These people carry maps; these people have gear.
"I'm all for the gear peopple and the scrapbooking memory-people. I'll even admit to a bit of envy. I'm just not one of them. I have a camera but I'd rather not risk the moment ot look for it. The perfect shot rarely presents itself and I'm a clumsy woman. I enjoy taking photos, but where on Planet Earth would I find time to cut, paste, label and trim? I'd much rather be out doing something that might be photographed and scrapbooked. Like that 12-hour Tramping for the Hooters trampoline fundraiser for the nature center owl refuge I did in August with Mr. Sundberg. Or serving chili over at the Boy Scout camp one autumn. Or building snowmen. Riding the Ferris wheel at the Winter Carnival. Skating with the kids. Gathering rosebuds. all of which I look forward to."
Wanna see pics? Try to view them here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=63588&id=500823168&ref=mf. Let me know if that link doesn't work.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Things I Wish I'd Know When Getting Divorced
So, one of my dearest friends is beginning divorce proceedings this week. She's a really wonderful woman who got a raw deal and is continuing to get one, in my opinion (but of course I think that, because she's my friend). Thinking about her divorce caused me to reflect on my own (because I'm narcissistic like that, or maybe I am attempting to be empathetic). She doesn't read this blog (I don't think), so this isn't so much a post of advice for her (which I wouldn't dare give unasked anyway) as it is a reflection on my own experience. These are things I wish someone had told me, if I could have been told, that would have made my life easier.
1. Don't trust him anymore. He is no longer on your side, if he even was to begin with. You may miss him sometimes, or think that you need him for some particular task that only he can do, but you don't. No booty calls (from him or from you), no overwrought emotional emails, no "I need him to help me move," nothing. Cut it off. It will be less painful in the end.
2. Nothing he said (or implied through his actions) about you is true, except possibly the good things, and no idiot on the planet could fail to see those. When that little voice in your head starts telling you how worthless you are, call that "My Ex's Opinion," and ignore it. He doesn't own you. Don't let him boss you around anymore. If/When it gets really bad, make lists of good qualities. Do it for five minutes. Do not use qualifiers (i.e. nothing like "I'm good at making the bed, but any fool with two arms can make a bed." Stop before "but.). If you use a qualifier, it doesn't count. Read this list often. Learn to believe it.
3. There will be some things that you just can't tell people, or tell certain people. That's ok. That's totally normal. If you are aware of this, tell them that. Make sure they know that you love them just as much as ever and you still need them, but talking about issue x with them is not going to help you. I couldn't discuss my divorce or my marriage with my mother because I felt, oh, a lot of things. It hurt her, but she loved me anyway. Your people will stand with you even in your silence.
4. Say thank-you often. Lots of people are going to be nice (maybe even extra-nice) to you, even if there are plenty of others who aren't. Let those nice people know you appreciate their efforts. This includes God.
5. You will feel totally terrible, and you really should. Your marriage is dead. It's ok to grieve. It's ok to feel lousy and depressed and angry. Try not to take it out on those closest to you, but when you do, apologize. They will understand. You may find yourself getting unreasonably upset about irrelevant things-- wanting to stab a bank teller in the eye, bursting into tears at a red light, developing an inexplicable hatred for a particular pop star. Be aware that you are actually upset about your marriage/divorce and try to let it go.
6. Do not get drunk or high or have sex with anyone (and really, don't date for a while. You're crazy right now, even if you think you're fine. You will look back and see that I am right.).
7. Do not drive when you're hysterical. Pull over, freak out, and then drive on. Also, do not call anyone when you're hysterical unless you are a danger to yourself or others. Do not ask me how I know these things.
8. Try to fill your evenings with good things. Volunteer at a library or a thrift store. Do church work. Do your visiting teaching. Try to help others. Rearrange your DVD collection. Hang out at the dog park with your puppies. Join a gym. This will help time (and therefore healing) pass in a fairly numbing way.
9. Keep anything official that had your name and address on it from when you were married. You don't have to keep every telephone bill, but hanging on to a utility bill with your married name and address on it may help you later. Originals are better but copies sometimes work just as well. Also make sure you have a pay stub from your job handy. Keep things like marriage certificates or copies of them if you can. This may help you later as you try to re-establish your life.
10. It's ok to hate your ex. He did a lot of scuzzy things. Don't dwell on it more than you have to. He's not worth your time.
11. It will bother you when people criticize your ex. It may feel like a reflection on you-- what kind of fool goes and marries a jerk like that? Recognize that they're just trying to be supportive. If you can laugh it off, do. If you can't, explain to whomever you're with that you're not ready to talk bad about your ex yet, but you appreciate her support. When you are ready, call this friend and tell her what a @(#&^* he really is.
12. On your first anniversary apart, go out with your girlfriends and throw yourself a liberation party. Have cake. Do not get drunk. Do not call your ex or accept phone calls from him. It's ok if you go home and cry afterwards.
13. Do your best to surround yourself with people who love you. You may be too numb to feel it, in which case use your brain. Your family, for example, will love you if they loved you in the past. Past behavior is a reasonable predictor of future behavior in this case (except, of course, for your ex, who will be pretty psycho himself right now. Avoid him if you can. If you can't, be cordial but aloof. ).
14. When experiencing major upheaval like a divorce, sometimes it's good to travel or to move somewhere else temporarily. The relative anonymity that comes with going to a new place can relieve some of the pressure you may feel to perform constantly for others (either to prove that you're ok or that you're not). Also, being in a physically different space may help you transition to a new phase in your life. If you're traveling, when you return to your town, you will feel like a new person, but you'll still have some home stuff to deal with. It will be easier to deal with, though, because you've healed a little bit in the meantime. This option is not financially feasible for everyone, but it helps.
15. Find someone who you can sit beside and cry at, someone who doesn't require anything of you other than your continued existence. This person should be patient and loving. Moms are good at this sort of thing, but so are close friends. Your Bishop or Relief Society President may also be a good option. Heavenly Father is also an option, but sometimes it's more difficult to feel His hugs.
16. Pray. Read your scriptures. Go to church. It would be very easy to give up on all that right now, but these simple things really will make a difference. They'll be at least one sure thing in this whole chaotic mess. People at church may talk about you (though they never did me, to where I knew it anyway), but that's ok. Nobody's perfect. You worry about you and Christ and let other people tend their own gardens.
17. Remember that Jesus Christ and your Heavenly Father love you. Remember that thing from Young Women's: "We are daughters of our Heavenly Father, who loves us, and we love him. We will "stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places"(Mosiah 18:9) as we strive to live the Young Women values, which are: faith, divine nature, individual worth, knowledge, choice and accountability, good works, and integrity. We believe as we come to accept and act upon these values, we will be prepared to strengthen home and family, make and keep sacred covenants, receive the ordinances of the temple, and enjoy the blessings of exaltation." These things are still true. No blessing will ultimately be denied you based on the fact that you are divorced.
18. Divorce sucks, but it's a trial like any other. It matters more what you do with your trials, how you respond to them, than it does what's happened to you. All you can control is yourself, anyway, and that will plenty for the time being. Recognize these things and also recognize that you probably can't do all this alone. Get the help you need, whatever form that takes.
1. Don't trust him anymore. He is no longer on your side, if he even was to begin with. You may miss him sometimes, or think that you need him for some particular task that only he can do, but you don't. No booty calls (from him or from you), no overwrought emotional emails, no "I need him to help me move," nothing. Cut it off. It will be less painful in the end.
2. Nothing he said (or implied through his actions) about you is true, except possibly the good things, and no idiot on the planet could fail to see those. When that little voice in your head starts telling you how worthless you are, call that "My Ex's Opinion," and ignore it. He doesn't own you. Don't let him boss you around anymore. If/When it gets really bad, make lists of good qualities. Do it for five minutes. Do not use qualifiers (i.e. nothing like "I'm good at making the bed, but any fool with two arms can make a bed." Stop before "but.). If you use a qualifier, it doesn't count. Read this list often. Learn to believe it.
3. There will be some things that you just can't tell people, or tell certain people. That's ok. That's totally normal. If you are aware of this, tell them that. Make sure they know that you love them just as much as ever and you still need them, but talking about issue x with them is not going to help you. I couldn't discuss my divorce or my marriage with my mother because I felt, oh, a lot of things. It hurt her, but she loved me anyway. Your people will stand with you even in your silence.
4. Say thank-you often. Lots of people are going to be nice (maybe even extra-nice) to you, even if there are plenty of others who aren't. Let those nice people know you appreciate their efforts. This includes God.
5. You will feel totally terrible, and you really should. Your marriage is dead. It's ok to grieve. It's ok to feel lousy and depressed and angry. Try not to take it out on those closest to you, but when you do, apologize. They will understand. You may find yourself getting unreasonably upset about irrelevant things-- wanting to stab a bank teller in the eye, bursting into tears at a red light, developing an inexplicable hatred for a particular pop star. Be aware that you are actually upset about your marriage/divorce and try to let it go.
6. Do not get drunk or high or have sex with anyone (and really, don't date for a while. You're crazy right now, even if you think you're fine. You will look back and see that I am right.).
7. Do not drive when you're hysterical. Pull over, freak out, and then drive on. Also, do not call anyone when you're hysterical unless you are a danger to yourself or others. Do not ask me how I know these things.
8. Try to fill your evenings with good things. Volunteer at a library or a thrift store. Do church work. Do your visiting teaching. Try to help others. Rearrange your DVD collection. Hang out at the dog park with your puppies. Join a gym. This will help time (and therefore healing) pass in a fairly numbing way.
9. Keep anything official that had your name and address on it from when you were married. You don't have to keep every telephone bill, but hanging on to a utility bill with your married name and address on it may help you later. Originals are better but copies sometimes work just as well. Also make sure you have a pay stub from your job handy. Keep things like marriage certificates or copies of them if you can. This may help you later as you try to re-establish your life.
10. It's ok to hate your ex. He did a lot of scuzzy things. Don't dwell on it more than you have to. He's not worth your time.
11. It will bother you when people criticize your ex. It may feel like a reflection on you-- what kind of fool goes and marries a jerk like that? Recognize that they're just trying to be supportive. If you can laugh it off, do. If you can't, explain to whomever you're with that you're not ready to talk bad about your ex yet, but you appreciate her support. When you are ready, call this friend and tell her what a @(#&^* he really is.
12. On your first anniversary apart, go out with your girlfriends and throw yourself a liberation party. Have cake. Do not get drunk. Do not call your ex or accept phone calls from him. It's ok if you go home and cry afterwards.
13. Do your best to surround yourself with people who love you. You may be too numb to feel it, in which case use your brain. Your family, for example, will love you if they loved you in the past. Past behavior is a reasonable predictor of future behavior in this case (except, of course, for your ex, who will be pretty psycho himself right now. Avoid him if you can. If you can't, be cordial but aloof. ).
14. When experiencing major upheaval like a divorce, sometimes it's good to travel or to move somewhere else temporarily. The relative anonymity that comes with going to a new place can relieve some of the pressure you may feel to perform constantly for others (either to prove that you're ok or that you're not). Also, being in a physically different space may help you transition to a new phase in your life. If you're traveling, when you return to your town, you will feel like a new person, but you'll still have some home stuff to deal with. It will be easier to deal with, though, because you've healed a little bit in the meantime. This option is not financially feasible for everyone, but it helps.
15. Find someone who you can sit beside and cry at, someone who doesn't require anything of you other than your continued existence. This person should be patient and loving. Moms are good at this sort of thing, but so are close friends. Your Bishop or Relief Society President may also be a good option. Heavenly Father is also an option, but sometimes it's more difficult to feel His hugs.
16. Pray. Read your scriptures. Go to church. It would be very easy to give up on all that right now, but these simple things really will make a difference. They'll be at least one sure thing in this whole chaotic mess. People at church may talk about you (though they never did me, to where I knew it anyway), but that's ok. Nobody's perfect. You worry about you and Christ and let other people tend their own gardens.
17. Remember that Jesus Christ and your Heavenly Father love you. Remember that thing from Young Women's: "We are daughters of our Heavenly Father, who loves us, and we love him. We will "stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places"(Mosiah 18:9) as we strive to live the Young Women values, which are: faith, divine nature, individual worth, knowledge, choice and accountability, good works, and integrity. We believe as we come to accept and act upon these values, we will be prepared to strengthen home and family, make and keep sacred covenants, receive the ordinances of the temple, and enjoy the blessings of exaltation." These things are still true. No blessing will ultimately be denied you based on the fact that you are divorced.
18. Divorce sucks, but it's a trial like any other. It matters more what you do with your trials, how you respond to them, than it does what's happened to you. All you can control is yourself, anyway, and that will plenty for the time being. Recognize these things and also recognize that you probably can't do all this alone. Get the help you need, whatever form that takes.
Friday, September 26, 2008
A Taste of Heaven (on the cheap!)
So, occassionally I miss Oxford. Given how often I've moved, I feel that I can't afford to spend a lot of my emotions missing any given place, but sometimes I miss Oxford anyway. One of the things I miss about Oxford is a little bakery that I think was called La Parisienne, but I could be totally wrong about that place. I didn't notice its name so much as I noticed the deliciousness inside. Not every morning, but some mornings on my way to class I would stop by and get a croissant. On extraspecial (and also extra lucky) mornings, I would get a "chocolate croissant," which is not a croissant made out of chocolate, but a croissant with chunks of dark chocolate in it. I could only order it by pointing because even though I spoke a kind of English and the person behind the counter spoke a kind of English, my ears were too dumb to understand his kind of English quickly enough to have an intelligent exchange of words. Probably he thought I was mentally retarded (or maybe that was his clue that I was American). At any rate, I loved this bakery and I loved these croissants. Abilene, as far as I can tell, does not (yet) have anything comparable, and since I was downhearted and alone this evening, I decided to try making them myself. I'm too lazy to be actually an experimental baker, so I used very easy ingredients. I took a can of Pilbury croissants and a bar of Hershey's special dark chocolate and combined them (by breaking the bar into chunks and dropping the chunks on the dough) and then baked the rolls as directed (except that I forgot to set the timer, as usual, so I don't know how long they cooked). The result was not as good as the French baker around the corner from the lovely home in Oxford (surprise!), but it was good enough. I ate three. I suggest you all go and do likewise.
Love,
Susan
Love,
Susan
Monday, August 18, 2008
Dental Anxiety
I hate going to the dentist. I know a lot of people find it unpleasant, but I really, really hate it. I was driven to tears at the thought of getting my teeth cleaned a month or so ago. Tomorrow, and for several upcoming weeks, I'll be getting a lot more than cleaning done to my teeth, and I am very unhappy about it. There's no other thing for it though-- I have to go to the dentist. Since there are no other solutions, I am left only with complaining. To that end, I have developed following list of things I would rather do than go to the dentist, in no particular order of preference:
1. Learn to swim in the presence of an angry Giant Squid.
2. Watch 1980's coming-of-age movie "classics."
3. Wash the dishes.
4. Eat ice cream.
5. Visit Hawaii.
6. Ride roller coasters.
7. Train pterodactyls to eat out of my hand.
8. Wrestle a bear.
9. Cover myself in honey and lie on an anthill.
10. Weed my garden.
11. Stab myself repeatedly in the eye with a bobby pin.
12. Dig out my own entrails with a rusty spoon.
13. Regularly do more than just brush my hair in the morning.
14. Drink milk.
15. Become a real, live Jabba the Hutt (learning Huttese is the hardest part!)
16. Go to France in August.
17. Work in fast food-- for longer than two weeks this time.
18. Be surrounded by drunk people while remaining totally sober myself (no, it's not funny that you're drunk; it's embarrassing).
19. Give sponge baths to old people.
20. Get lice.
21. Shoot myself in the foot.
22. Break my leg.
23. Never read comic books again.
24. Never read anything again.
25. Fend off angry English children throwing rocks at me.
26. Throw rocks at bratty English children.
27. Be pick pocketed in Asia.
28. Join the Foreign Legion.
29. Actually become a troll and have to eat my sister's feet, as I'd always threatened.
30. Host a booth at Ren Faire.
31. Become human shark bait.
32. Be pooped on by a thousand sea gulls simultaneously.
33. Be buried in the sand at low tide.
34. Never eat again.
35. Post video on YouTube of myself reading my journals from middle school, and with feeling.
36. Admit to my mother that she was right.
37. Admit to anyone that they were right.
38. Rope a goat.
39. Write "poetry" for Hallmark cards.
40. Drink the water in Mexico.
That's my first forty anyway. No doubt plenty more will occur to me. Feel free to post your own list, but I'll have none of this "It's not so bad," cheering-me-up nonsense. It won't work.
1. Learn to swim in the presence of an angry Giant Squid.
2. Watch 1980's coming-of-age movie "classics."
3. Wash the dishes.
4. Eat ice cream.
5. Visit Hawaii.
6. Ride roller coasters.
7. Train pterodactyls to eat out of my hand.
8. Wrestle a bear.
9. Cover myself in honey and lie on an anthill.
10. Weed my garden.
11. Stab myself repeatedly in the eye with a bobby pin.
12. Dig out my own entrails with a rusty spoon.
13. Regularly do more than just brush my hair in the morning.
14. Drink milk.
15. Become a real, live Jabba the Hutt (learning Huttese is the hardest part!)
16. Go to France in August.
17. Work in fast food-- for longer than two weeks this time.
18. Be surrounded by drunk people while remaining totally sober myself (no, it's not funny that you're drunk; it's embarrassing).
19. Give sponge baths to old people.
20. Get lice.
21. Shoot myself in the foot.
22. Break my leg.
23. Never read comic books again.
24. Never read anything again.
25. Fend off angry English children throwing rocks at me.
26. Throw rocks at bratty English children.
27. Be pick pocketed in Asia.
28. Join the Foreign Legion.
29. Actually become a troll and have to eat my sister's feet, as I'd always threatened.
30. Host a booth at Ren Faire.
31. Become human shark bait.
32. Be pooped on by a thousand sea gulls simultaneously.
33. Be buried in the sand at low tide.
34. Never eat again.
35. Post video on YouTube of myself reading my journals from middle school, and with feeling.
36. Admit to my mother that she was right.
37. Admit to anyone that they were right.
38. Rope a goat.
39. Write "poetry" for Hallmark cards.
40. Drink the water in Mexico.
That's my first forty anyway. No doubt plenty more will occur to me. Feel free to post your own list, but I'll have none of this "It's not so bad," cheering-me-up nonsense. It won't work.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Gastronomic Adventures and Birthday
I know not everyone is a fan of food, but I really am. Also, I've done almost nothing interesting this week except eat, so that's what I have pictures of.
Today was my birthday. It was also our last day of being in Oxford. Our professors threw us all an end-of-program dinner party that was very nice. Later some friends and I went to a pub for a little while. In between all of that, we packed and cleaned up and generally got ready to go. We are leaving obscenely early in the morning tomorrow for the airport, so we tried to get as much ready as possible. My roommate Brittany and I went to a nearby patisserie after we were all packed to celebrate. I had a small fruit tart and a chocolate... cake? It had thin layers of cake with layers of chocolate mousse in between, covered in fudge, sprinkled with pistachios and a raspberry. Both were small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. Both were delicious.
It's been a busy week (though, as I said, not necessarily interesting), so I haven't posted much about it. I'm planning on using some of my plane time to pull together some of my thoughts on this whole thing. Since I know how fascinated you all are with my thoughts, I'll be sure to post them once I get home.
Oxford has been fun in a lot of ways. It's been a really nice break. I miss my husband and my life in Abilene, though, so I am also looking forward to being back with that again.
Here are pictures:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=50862&l=45a0d&id=500823168
Today was my birthday. It was also our last day of being in Oxford. Our professors threw us all an end-of-program dinner party that was very nice. Later some friends and I went to a pub for a little while. In between all of that, we packed and cleaned up and generally got ready to go. We are leaving obscenely early in the morning tomorrow for the airport, so we tried to get as much ready as possible. My roommate Brittany and I went to a nearby patisserie after we were all packed to celebrate. I had a small fruit tart and a chocolate... cake? It had thin layers of cake with layers of chocolate mousse in between, covered in fudge, sprinkled with pistachios and a raspberry. Both were small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. Both were delicious.
It's been a busy week (though, as I said, not necessarily interesting), so I haven't posted much about it. I'm planning on using some of my plane time to pull together some of my thoughts on this whole thing. Since I know how fascinated you all are with my thoughts, I'll be sure to post them once I get home.
Oxford has been fun in a lot of ways. It's been a really nice break. I miss my husband and my life in Abilene, though, so I am also looking forward to being back with that again.
Here are pictures:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=50862&l=45a0d&id=500823168
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Port Meadow and The Trout
I love food. Free food is especially nice. Tonight, our professors took everyone out to dinner at what used to be a lovely old pub in Wolvercote called The Trout. It has recently been fancified and has significantly lost its pub-feel, but it is a genial place nonetheless. We walked through Port Meadow to get to it (we didn't have to, but we did anyway) and that was a really lovely walk. We walked past some "Binsey Poplars" (or trees reminiscent of them) of Gerard Manley Hopkins fame (http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=173655). We also walked past the ruins of Godstow Abbey (http://www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=1485). It was very beautiful.
We ended up sitting at a table in full sun. It was very hot, and our waitress didn't seem to realize that people sitting in the hot sun like lots of water, often. I guess that shows that she's not from West Texas. :) I ordered a margherita pizza (cheese, tomatoes, and basil) and had a strawberry apple crumble with vanilla custard (like pudding) for dessert. It was all very delicious! Afterwards, Brittany indulged me by walking back through Port Meadow with me (as opposed to taking the bus). It was just a really gentle evening and a nice way to wind up one of our final days of classes.
For pictures on these adventures, go to: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=49719&l=68c5e&id=500823168
We ended up sitting at a table in full sun. It was very hot, and our waitress didn't seem to realize that people sitting in the hot sun like lots of water, often. I guess that shows that she's not from West Texas. :) I ordered a margherita pizza (cheese, tomatoes, and basil) and had a strawberry apple crumble with vanilla custard (like pudding) for dessert. It was all very delicious! Afterwards, Brittany indulged me by walking back through Port Meadow with me (as opposed to taking the bus). It was just a really gentle evening and a nice way to wind up one of our final days of classes.
For pictures on these adventures, go to: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=49719&l=68c5e&id=500823168
Christ Church
Our group went and visited Christ Church and Christ Church Cathedral here in Oxford. It was really lovely. They filmed some scenes from Harry Potter there (Lewis Carroll is really a bigger deal there), but it would be a great place regardless. It's a really interesting (as well as lovely!) place. If you'd like more information about it, check here: http://www.chch.ox.ac.uk/
After the tour, they served us tea in the priory room. Our guide, Winnie, shared her story of her search for God, which I was thought was very generous of her. I was really glad Dr. Childers asked. I was thinking the other day about how no one I know ever seems to mind being asked that question, but it's a question which people are often embarrassed to ask. Dr. Childers (who Winnie thought was quite handsome) thinks that is because of how we've privatized religion-- that is, we've made a private, personal thing, like one's salary or bathroom habits. It isn't something one discusses except with family, really, or very close friends, outside of church situations. I wonder if that's true. It seems very reasonable to me, and I'm hardly better educated about such things.
After tea, we went into the Christ Church Cathedral for Evensong. I love, love, loved Evensong. It was a very beautiful and moving performance with some audience participation. I don't think I could do with a regular diet of it, unfortunately-- I feel like my usual way of worship is a little "meatier." Maybe that's a misperception on my part, though. Maybe I only think that because it's what I'm used to. Anyway, I did love Evensong. It was very enlightening and inspiring. I found the program (or Order of Service, or whatever you want to call it that tells you what happens when) and the prayer books and hymnals very comforting. The singing was beautiful. I wish I had gone earlier during my stay here in Oxford; I would've gone more often.
For pictures from my visit, go to: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=49706&l=64ee9&id=500823168
After the tour, they served us tea in the priory room. Our guide, Winnie, shared her story of her search for God, which I was thought was very generous of her. I was really glad Dr. Childers asked. I was thinking the other day about how no one I know ever seems to mind being asked that question, but it's a question which people are often embarrassed to ask. Dr. Childers (who Winnie thought was quite handsome) thinks that is because of how we've privatized religion-- that is, we've made a private, personal thing, like one's salary or bathroom habits. It isn't something one discusses except with family, really, or very close friends, outside of church situations. I wonder if that's true. It seems very reasonable to me, and I'm hardly better educated about such things.
After tea, we went into the Christ Church Cathedral for Evensong. I love, love, loved Evensong. It was a very beautiful and moving performance with some audience participation. I don't think I could do with a regular diet of it, unfortunately-- I feel like my usual way of worship is a little "meatier." Maybe that's a misperception on my part, though. Maybe I only think that because it's what I'm used to. Anyway, I did love Evensong. It was very enlightening and inspiring. I found the program (or Order of Service, or whatever you want to call it that tells you what happens when) and the prayer books and hymnals very comforting. The singing was beautiful. I wish I had gone earlier during my stay here in Oxford; I would've gone more often.
For pictures from my visit, go to: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=49706&l=64ee9&id=500823168
Tolkien's Grave
So, I feel a little awkward about visiting anyone's grave, much less the grave of someone I'm not related to. It has always seemed a little pointless to me. They aren't really there, to me at least, so what's the point? People I care to honor I would better honor by the way I live my life. I have never seen the graves of most of my grandparents, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten them. I think about them all the time. I can see how people might feel differently, though. Perhaps if I'd lost someone closer to me than grandparents, a person's grave would be a nice place to go and remember them or a place where I could grieve.
At any rate, I visited Tolkien's grave while I was here. Just like taking pictures in church, having lunch on people's graves, and littering cigarette butts on the sidewalk, there are some things that a person wouldn't do in America that are perfectly acceptable to do here. It was about an hour walk on an unusually hot grave, but well worth it. I've been looking at some things on "sojourning" lately, which is related (to me at least) to pilgrimage, so it felt like an appropriately pilgrimage-like thing to do. I didn't feel healed after visiting his grave, but I did feel more creative. Perhaps we shall make a saint of him yet.
Here are some pictures:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=49695&l=04c32&id=500823168
At any rate, I visited Tolkien's grave while I was here. Just like taking pictures in church, having lunch on people's graves, and littering cigarette butts on the sidewalk, there are some things that a person wouldn't do in America that are perfectly acceptable to do here. It was about an hour walk on an unusually hot grave, but well worth it. I've been looking at some things on "sojourning" lately, which is related (to me at least) to pilgrimage, so it felt like an appropriately pilgrimage-like thing to do. I didn't feel healed after visiting his grave, but I did feel more creative. Perhaps we shall make a saint of him yet.
Here are some pictures:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=49695&l=04c32&id=500823168
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Peace, Initially
For Christmas this year, my dear friend gave me a necklace with a pendant on it that says "Peace." Mormons don't wear crosses, so for me this necklace functions for me as a reminder of Christ's Atonement. The giver is a woman I greatly treasure, and heaven knows she has little enough peace of her own to go giving it away, but when peace can be bought (and sold!) at $19.95, who wouldn't? I look at my cultures and it seems that often we think that peace is just that easily attained. I'm struggling with this issue myself. Here are some of my initial thoughts. I almost didn't post them; they're fairly private thoughts for such a public space. But perhaps some of you have had similar thoughts and can help me as I think.
Our trip to Coventry Cathedral prompted me to reflect on peace and our evening devotional this Sunday has brought that to the forefront of my mind again. In both places, an emphasis is placed on prayers for peace. I think prayer is an important and powerful thing. We see in the scriptures time and time again how effective intercession is. Prophets are able to change the Lord's mind to soften His heart towards the people, or so it appears. In many of these situations (though not all), it appears as though the Lord was just waiting to be asked. So I do think it is good for us to pray for peace, and yet...
I cannot help but feel that we make some grand assumption in these prayers-- that if we pray for peace, peace will just happen, through the Lord's Grace. Do we not assume that by saying a prayer, by lighting candles, and by singing together, we are promoting the cause of peace? I don't believe these are bad things to do, but I do question their ultimate efficacy.
Alma 31:5 informs us that "as the preaching of the word had a tendency to lead the people to do that which was just -- yea, it had had more powerful effect upon the minds of the people than the sword, or anything else, which had happened unto them -- therefore Alma thought it was expedient that they should try the virtue of the word of God." And the Book of Mormon shows us examples of groups of people who are valiant in the cause of peace after their conversion to Christ. Yet historically missionary work for Christianity writ large (as opposed to a specific denominations' proselytizing) has brought more problems for everyone involved. I can't help but feel that we need to reach out coming from a Christ-centered point of view while recognizing that others may not be approaching us similarly. I think prayer is good, but prayer is not enough. I think missionary work is excellent, but I do not think it is enough. We cannot hope to be reconciled with our neighbors by hoping that they'll get their act together and come to church with us. I think we need to do more.
D&C 9:7-8 records the Lord's words to Oliver Cowdery: "Behold, you have not understood; you have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me. But behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right." It is not enough just to ask. We must study in our minds how we can best promote the cause of peace in the world. For myself, I feel that more is required. I think that perhaps peace most easily begins with molding ourselves, or allowing ourselves to be molded, into peaceable people full of charity. Because this is a life-long process, I also think that while we are becoming this sort of person, we must also be actively engaged in work outside ourselves.
I understand that we live in a fallen world, or, more optimistically, a mortal world. I understand that, for now, there are some times when even war is necessary. I understand that regardless of the outcome in the here and now, we must still sue for peace whenever possible, ethically. I hear Christ's gift in John 14:27: "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you," and while I am not afraid, my heart is troubled. How can such a thing be managed? I see that this is all a matter of faith. Eventually, Christ will return and cure all ills and make peace among the nations-- but all of that is after Armageddon, yes? And isn't it still incumbent upon me to do what I can now? If I see my fellow child of God in pain, sad, or hungry, or lonely, to tell that person to suck it up and turn to God is cruel. You can't eat faith, and if I have more than enough food, you shouldn't have to. Until Christ comes again, aren't we His hands? What then can my hands do?
In an earlier post, I mentioned something about not knowing what I would've said if I'd had to answer my own question about my fears, but having thought since then, I decided that one of my biggest fears is not being able to make use of my gifts, or not being able to do something good with them. I fear ineffectiveness. Ultimately, we are all powerless without Christ, I know, I know, but since I do have Christ with me, then what? Reflecting on peace in the world and conflict between individuals, my fear is brought up before me. What is something I can do that will matter? I am willing to work hard. Surely there is more to do.
Our trip to Coventry Cathedral prompted me to reflect on peace and our evening devotional this Sunday has brought that to the forefront of my mind again. In both places, an emphasis is placed on prayers for peace. I think prayer is an important and powerful thing. We see in the scriptures time and time again how effective intercession is. Prophets are able to change the Lord's mind to soften His heart towards the people, or so it appears. In many of these situations (though not all), it appears as though the Lord was just waiting to be asked. So I do think it is good for us to pray for peace, and yet...
I cannot help but feel that we make some grand assumption in these prayers-- that if we pray for peace, peace will just happen, through the Lord's Grace. Do we not assume that by saying a prayer, by lighting candles, and by singing together, we are promoting the cause of peace? I don't believe these are bad things to do, but I do question their ultimate efficacy.
Alma 31:5 informs us that "as the preaching of the word had a tendency to lead the people to do that which was just -- yea, it had had more powerful effect upon the minds of the people than the sword, or anything else, which had happened unto them -- therefore Alma thought it was expedient that they should try the virtue of the word of God." And the Book of Mormon shows us examples of groups of people who are valiant in the cause of peace after their conversion to Christ. Yet historically missionary work for Christianity writ large (as opposed to a specific denominations' proselytizing) has brought more problems for everyone involved. I can't help but feel that we need to reach out coming from a Christ-centered point of view while recognizing that others may not be approaching us similarly. I think prayer is good, but prayer is not enough. I think missionary work is excellent, but I do not think it is enough. We cannot hope to be reconciled with our neighbors by hoping that they'll get their act together and come to church with us. I think we need to do more.
D&C 9:7-8 records the Lord's words to Oliver Cowdery: "Behold, you have not understood; you have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me. But behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right." It is not enough just to ask. We must study in our minds how we can best promote the cause of peace in the world. For myself, I feel that more is required. I think that perhaps peace most easily begins with molding ourselves, or allowing ourselves to be molded, into peaceable people full of charity. Because this is a life-long process, I also think that while we are becoming this sort of person, we must also be actively engaged in work outside ourselves.
I understand that we live in a fallen world, or, more optimistically, a mortal world. I understand that, for now, there are some times when even war is necessary. I understand that regardless of the outcome in the here and now, we must still sue for peace whenever possible, ethically. I hear Christ's gift in John 14:27: "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you," and while I am not afraid, my heart is troubled. How can such a thing be managed? I see that this is all a matter of faith. Eventually, Christ will return and cure all ills and make peace among the nations-- but all of that is after Armageddon, yes? And isn't it still incumbent upon me to do what I can now? If I see my fellow child of God in pain, sad, or hungry, or lonely, to tell that person to suck it up and turn to God is cruel. You can't eat faith, and if I have more than enough food, you shouldn't have to. Until Christ comes again, aren't we His hands? What then can my hands do?
In an earlier post, I mentioned something about not knowing what I would've said if I'd had to answer my own question about my fears, but having thought since then, I decided that one of my biggest fears is not being able to make use of my gifts, or not being able to do something good with them. I fear ineffectiveness. Ultimately, we are all powerless without Christ, I know, I know, but since I do have Christ with me, then what? Reflecting on peace in the world and conflict between individuals, my fear is brought up before me. What is something I can do that will matter? I am willing to work hard. Surely there is more to do.
Friday, July 25, 2008
For Science!
I spent this afternoon at Oxford's Museum of the History of Science and at the University Botanical Gardens. The Museum was really fascinating, but I'm pretty sure I should've been accompanied by someone who understood the significance of everything I saw. The Botanical Gardens were beeeyoutiful. I plan on returning when it is a little less humid and I am prepared to lie under a tree for several hours. They also had paddle boats and punts there, but I was alone, so I didn't do either. While I was there, I was supposed to be reflecting on different types of knowledge. Is there a real difference between the kind of knowledge we get from something when we measure it and the type of knowledge we get from the Bible, or mythology, or other works of literature? Are they all just different ways of observing and measuring, ultimately pointing to the same information? If they all point to the same thing, ultimately, then why do we have distinct categories for them: why biology, painting, history, and theology instead of just one of these? I am still thinking about it.
To see the too-many pictures I took this afternoon, go to: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=48730&l=3afa3&id=500823168
and:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=48739&l=ca661&id=500823168
To see the too-many pictures I took this afternoon, go to: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=48730&l=3afa3&id=500823168
and:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=48739&l=ca661&id=500823168
Thursday, July 24, 2008
WAAAAAAAAAAAUGGH!
Wednesday afternoon, Rankin and Childers took us all punting along the Cherwell River. It really was a delightful afternoon, slightly marred by a less-than-cordial interaction with some locals. The river is very very slow and has a muddy bottom. The punting poles are very heavy and long (of course long; they need to touch the bottom) and it takes a bit to get the knack of them (I never did). It was a beautiful day, with blue sky, slight breezes, lovely smells (and some less enjoyable ones; there were lots of ducks and such about), and picturesque scenery.
The one truly unpleasant time I've had in Oxford did occur on the punt, though. As we were going under a bridge, some boys between ages 10-12 noticed us. The spit in the hair of a girl on another punt. They called some of us names and made some lewd comments and some other inappropriate things about the Twin Towers. A friend of ours lost his temper and responded somewhat in kind (untypically for him, from what I've seen of him). Unfortunately, this was exactly what they wanted. They picked up rocks and started throwing them at our boat. A rock (a small one) hit me between the shoulder blades and another one (that can't have felt small) hit our friend in the groin. The rest missed us, as far as I can tell. Childers and Rankin observed this and saw that the boys were not just going to go away. They got out of their punt and had words with the group, who left us alone after that. It was an unfortunate occurrence, but people who are looking for trouble (as this group was) often find it. People are people everywhere.
That was unpleasant, and kind of cast a shadow on the rest of our punting experience, though we did our best to enjoy it. Later that evening we all went to a nearby park and played some Ultimate frisbee. It was great, though I was not. First Prize goes to Dr. Rankin, though, not because his team won, but because of his numerous acrobatics in his attempts to get the frisbee. I was unfortunately playing, so I did not get any pictures of them. You'll just have to trust me that they were amazing.
All in all, it was a very pleasant afternoon-- one of the most enjoyable ones I've had this week. To see pictures from it (lots of pictures), go to: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=48577&l=db5d0&id=500823168 and also http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=48582&l=f8074&id=500823168
The one truly unpleasant time I've had in Oxford did occur on the punt, though. As we were going under a bridge, some boys between ages 10-12 noticed us. The spit in the hair of a girl on another punt. They called some of us names and made some lewd comments and some other inappropriate things about the Twin Towers. A friend of ours lost his temper and responded somewhat in kind (untypically for him, from what I've seen of him). Unfortunately, this was exactly what they wanted. They picked up rocks and started throwing them at our boat. A rock (a small one) hit me between the shoulder blades and another one (that can't have felt small) hit our friend in the groin. The rest missed us, as far as I can tell. Childers and Rankin observed this and saw that the boys were not just going to go away. They got out of their punt and had words with the group, who left us alone after that. It was an unfortunate occurrence, but people who are looking for trouble (as this group was) often find it. People are people everywhere.
That was unpleasant, and kind of cast a shadow on the rest of our punting experience, though we did our best to enjoy it. Later that evening we all went to a nearby park and played some Ultimate frisbee. It was great, though I was not. First Prize goes to Dr. Rankin, though, not because his team won, but because of his numerous acrobatics in his attempts to get the frisbee. I was unfortunately playing, so I did not get any pictures of them. You'll just have to trust me that they were amazing.
All in all, it was a very pleasant afternoon-- one of the most enjoyable ones I've had this week. To see pictures from it (lots of pictures), go to: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=48577&l=db5d0&id=500823168 and also http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=48582&l=f8074&id=500823168
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Coventry & Shakespeare
Earlier this week, our group went to visit Coventry Cathedral. It is an amazing place. During WWII, the city of Coventry was just about obliterated. The goal of the Nazi's (in addition to disrupting industrial output) was to cause so much destruction there that the people would be discouraged from rebuilding. Certainly Coventry grieved, but instead of being demoralized, the people resolved that after the war, they would extend a hand of fellowship to Germany. The focus on reconciliation, unity, and peace at Coventry is exemplified in this Cathedral of St. Michael. The ruins of the earlier cathedral (built by Lady Godiva and her husband) were incorporated into the design of the new. The theme of unity and reconciliation is seen throughout the site. It was very moving. To see some pictures (by far inferior to seeing it firsthand, I'm afraid), check out: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=48267&l=7f921&id=500823168 It seems to me that peace-making is a lot more difficult than our culture seems to realize. I love how Coventry acknowledges those difficulties while still advocating peace's ultimate necessity.
After our visit to Coventry, we drove over to Anne Hathaway's family home. Anne Hathaway, of course, was Shakespeare's wife. She was 26 when they married; he was only 18. It would've been fairly scandalous, not so much because she was 3 months pregnant at the time, but because he was so young. The Hathaway home was where Anne would've grown up, though it would've been significantly smaller when she was a child. Shortly after her father's death, her brother expanded it, I think to its present dimensions. It was in continuous use until 1912, I think.
After that, we went to Stratford-upon-Avon to see Shakespeare's birthplace and grave. It is a sweet town, kept that way for the tourists, I think. We had plenty of time there to enjoy various tea shops and other things. It was a delightful place. Shakespeare donated substantially to the Church of the Holy Trinity there. He and his family were accorded a special place of honor, being buried quite close to the altar. The graveyard surrounding the church was also a beautiful place. The church is now constantly in need of repair, and has fallen on hard times as its number of parishioners has steadily decreased. It felt very strange to be in a small place like that, and to think about how Shakespeare's immense influence came from it.
To see pictures of those visits, go to: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=48296&l=2da6c&id=500823168
I think that was our last excursion trip as a group, which is a little sad, but understandable. We'll still have plenty of local activities, I think.
I apologize for waiting so long to post these. I hope you all are doing well.
Lots of love...
After our visit to Coventry, we drove over to Anne Hathaway's family home. Anne Hathaway, of course, was Shakespeare's wife. She was 26 when they married; he was only 18. It would've been fairly scandalous, not so much because she was 3 months pregnant at the time, but because he was so young. The Hathaway home was where Anne would've grown up, though it would've been significantly smaller when she was a child. Shortly after her father's death, her brother expanded it, I think to its present dimensions. It was in continuous use until 1912, I think.
After that, we went to Stratford-upon-Avon to see Shakespeare's birthplace and grave. It is a sweet town, kept that way for the tourists, I think. We had plenty of time there to enjoy various tea shops and other things. It was a delightful place. Shakespeare donated substantially to the Church of the Holy Trinity there. He and his family were accorded a special place of honor, being buried quite close to the altar. The graveyard surrounding the church was also a beautiful place. The church is now constantly in need of repair, and has fallen on hard times as its number of parishioners has steadily decreased. It felt very strange to be in a small place like that, and to think about how Shakespeare's immense influence came from it.
To see pictures of those visits, go to: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=48296&l=2da6c&id=500823168
I think that was our last excursion trip as a group, which is a little sad, but understandable. We'll still have plenty of local activities, I think.
I apologize for waiting so long to post these. I hope you all are doing well.
Lots of love...
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Chorley
I had a very pleasant trip to Chorley yesterday (Saturday). You can view pictures of my trip here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=47839&l=a4a00&id=500823168
Do you ever get sick of your own thoughts? I feel like I've been thinking the same phrases over and over again all week long, so now that I have time to talk about them, I just don't feel like it. Perhaps later. I'm sure you're all heartbroken. ;)
Catch ya later,
Do you ever get sick of your own thoughts? I feel like I've been thinking the same phrases over and over again all week long, so now that I have time to talk about them, I just don't feel like it. Perhaps later. I'm sure you're all heartbroken. ;)
Catch ya later,
Friday, July 18, 2008
Ghost Tours!
I finally went on Ghost Tours last night. It was as much legal fun as a person could have for 6 pounds. Check out pictures and (what I remember of the) stories here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=47516&l=6332e&id=500823168
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Sacred Spaces
I want this post to be brief because I am very tired and also because my camera broke today and I am trying to decide what to do about it. However, I know myself too well to think that this post will actually be short.
We woke up at about 6 and were on the bus by 7. We went first to Avebury, which used to be a huge neolithic worship site-- like Stonehenge, but much bigger, and also less well-preserved. The stones shared their space with sheep, which was nice, but smelly. I was very careful about where I stepped. I wish I'd had just a little longer at Avebury. It had an air that invited contemplation. Dr. Childers pointed out that when it was in use, scholars speculate that the area would have been kept free of grass, exposing the chalk just beneath. That would've resulted in this blinding white brilliance when the sun shone, contrasted by the darker stones. At any rate, I thought it was just a lovely place, so I took lots and lots of pictures. You can view them here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=47291&l=51aea&id=500823168.
After Avebury, we trundled ourselves over to the West Kennet Burial Mound. This mound was used to bury prehistoric residents of the area. Some graves have been excavated. After research was completed, the bodies were returned to their original resting places and covered with stone. A portion of the burial mound has been excavated to the point that people can now go inside it and look around. It was really really interesting. It was crowded and dark, so I didn't get as good a look as I would've liked, but it appeared that inside the mound there were several different chambers. The Burial Mound is also a site for current pagan worship. Both within the mound and elsewhere nearby, there were charms and talismans laid out as evidence of people's current practice. Some of these were ribbons and sheaves of wheat tied to an oak tree in a pasture nearby. Many of my classmates handled these ribbons, trying to decipher the runes written on a few of them. Many of my classmates also mocked these things, however subtly, which I thought was in poor taste. It's one thing to disbelieve; it's another to mock someone else's beliefs. I don't think anyone who believes in resurrection or who eats bits of his or her God (or what represents Him) weekly is in a position to mock naturalist worship rationally. Furthermore, as Christians, we can find these pagan beliefs threatening (because we could think they're related to demonic powers) or we can find them pitiful (maybe because there is no power but God's power, or because we think God's power is greater than all others) or maybe we can find them irrelevant (again because God is greater, so who cares?), but in no case is mockery an appropriate response (unless one happens to be Elijah dealing with the priests of Baal-- but one is not). How does that help anyone? What's the purpose of that mockery? It can only lull us into the delusion of superiority and stability. If we expect people to treat our beliefs seriously, whether or not they find them personally ridiculous, we should extend that same courtesy to others. Aside from that, though, the visit was just lovely. Like Avebury, the burial mound is off in the middle of farmland. There was only one farm building within sight. The sky was blue, the fields where white, and the grass was a brilliant green. The wind is swift but not strong and only a few birds flew above us. It really was wonderful. Check out pictures here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=47293&l=7536d&id=500823168.
Finally we went to Stonehenge. I loved Stonehenge, but it did not have the solitude I appreciated about the other sites. Then again, it's entirely possible that these sites were always very busy places, and I just find inner reflection and private worship more rewarding because it's what I'm used to. It was crowded, but still lovely. I was disappointed that my camera gave out. Check out what pictures I was able to manage here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=47296&l=bc00b&id=500823168.
I was also able to visit Salisbury Cathedral and the church where George Herbert preached in the 1600's. I took some pictures of those (I was able to buy a disposable camera in the gift shop at Stonehenge), but you'll have to wait for that. You'll also have to wait to hear more about what I think about everything I saw (I know how much you love hearing what I think...) until another day. I'm tired! But I had a wonderful day.
Love to all--
We woke up at about 6 and were on the bus by 7. We went first to Avebury, which used to be a huge neolithic worship site-- like Stonehenge, but much bigger, and also less well-preserved. The stones shared their space with sheep, which was nice, but smelly. I was very careful about where I stepped. I wish I'd had just a little longer at Avebury. It had an air that invited contemplation. Dr. Childers pointed out that when it was in use, scholars speculate that the area would have been kept free of grass, exposing the chalk just beneath. That would've resulted in this blinding white brilliance when the sun shone, contrasted by the darker stones. At any rate, I thought it was just a lovely place, so I took lots and lots of pictures. You can view them here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=47291&l=51aea&id=500823168.
After Avebury, we trundled ourselves over to the West Kennet Burial Mound. This mound was used to bury prehistoric residents of the area. Some graves have been excavated. After research was completed, the bodies were returned to their original resting places and covered with stone. A portion of the burial mound has been excavated to the point that people can now go inside it and look around. It was really really interesting. It was crowded and dark, so I didn't get as good a look as I would've liked, but it appeared that inside the mound there were several different chambers. The Burial Mound is also a site for current pagan worship. Both within the mound and elsewhere nearby, there were charms and talismans laid out as evidence of people's current practice. Some of these were ribbons and sheaves of wheat tied to an oak tree in a pasture nearby. Many of my classmates handled these ribbons, trying to decipher the runes written on a few of them. Many of my classmates also mocked these things, however subtly, which I thought was in poor taste. It's one thing to disbelieve; it's another to mock someone else's beliefs. I don't think anyone who believes in resurrection or who eats bits of his or her God (or what represents Him) weekly is in a position to mock naturalist worship rationally. Furthermore, as Christians, we can find these pagan beliefs threatening (because we could think they're related to demonic powers) or we can find them pitiful (maybe because there is no power but God's power, or because we think God's power is greater than all others) or maybe we can find them irrelevant (again because God is greater, so who cares?), but in no case is mockery an appropriate response (unless one happens to be Elijah dealing with the priests of Baal-- but one is not). How does that help anyone? What's the purpose of that mockery? It can only lull us into the delusion of superiority and stability. If we expect people to treat our beliefs seriously, whether or not they find them personally ridiculous, we should extend that same courtesy to others. Aside from that, though, the visit was just lovely. Like Avebury, the burial mound is off in the middle of farmland. There was only one farm building within sight. The sky was blue, the fields where white, and the grass was a brilliant green. The wind is swift but not strong and only a few birds flew above us. It really was wonderful. Check out pictures here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=47293&l=7536d&id=500823168.
Finally we went to Stonehenge. I loved Stonehenge, but it did not have the solitude I appreciated about the other sites. Then again, it's entirely possible that these sites were always very busy places, and I just find inner reflection and private worship more rewarding because it's what I'm used to. It was crowded, but still lovely. I was disappointed that my camera gave out. Check out what pictures I was able to manage here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=47296&l=bc00b&id=500823168.
I was also able to visit Salisbury Cathedral and the church where George Herbert preached in the 1600's. I took some pictures of those (I was able to buy a disposable camera in the gift shop at Stonehenge), but you'll have to wait for that. You'll also have to wait to hear more about what I think about everything I saw (I know how much you love hearing what I think...) until another day. I'm tired! But I had a wonderful day.
Love to all--
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
The Ashmolean
First of all, "Ashmole" is a pretty silly surname, don't you think? Aren't you glad it isn't yours? It's almost as silly as any number of mine.
Second, I love the Ashmolean.
After class today, I popped into the free museum that Oxford University (I think) sponsors and was pleasantly surprised by its wonderful collection. I don't know what I was expecting-- maybe something like Buffalo Gap Historic Village, but with a British accent. The museum really was wonderful. It had a varied collection of many excellent pieces as well as some very credible reproductions. Best of all, it had lots of benches for sitting and thinking or resting one's feet. A pleasant bonus was a wonderful staff member who went out of his way to make sure the patrons of the museum had an enjoyable visit.
While I was there, I was taking some pictures of a piano (harpsichord? I couldn't find a display tag) next to another young woman who was from France. The staff member noticed our interest, and waved us over to him. "You've got to see this. Make sure you don't leave the Museum without seeing this," he said. He pointed us to the back of a reproduction of a Stradivarius instrument. The front was impressive enough, but the back was even more beautiful. It had a lovely miniature scene of Adam, Eve, the serpent, and the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. On the back of the very top part there was another figure (one that I could not identify, but which might have been an angel) that was also intricate and very impressive.
After we'd seen this, my new French friend (Ines, from Avignon, studying art history in Paris, visiting Oxford in order to improve her English, and absolutely stunning, says I must see the museums there. There are excellent Impressionist and Fauvist collections, she says.) and myself were once again waved over by the curator. He pointed us to a painting of the back of a man riding a horse. "Why do you think he's trotting away?" asked the staff member. Ines and I observed that one didn't usually see paintings of the backside of horses. The staff member then proceeded to tell us his interpretation of the painting-- the marks on the road were not pebbles, as I'd assumed, but were pieces of money, like the 30 pieces of silver that Judas accepted to betray Christ. The man in the painting had sold out his soldier companions, and was now slowly riding through the battlefield (hence, the smoke in the painting) observing the fruits of his betrayal. Our guide believed that the soldier, seeing his friends' deaths, wouldn't be able to live with himself and was on his way to commit suicide. Ines and I agreed that it was certainly a possibility. It was really neat listening to him talk about something he'd obviously considered at length.
Our guide then directed us to a lovely statue. It's gorgeous. It depicts a couple whose relationship is obviously in trouble. The woman has wrapped her arm around the man's shoulder and holds his arm close to her chest. She is looking kind of up and around, trying to look into his face. The man, though, is looking down and away. He allows the woman to touch him, but he does not respond. It's a beautiful, expressive, intricate sculpture. Apparently this is meant to portray the story of a man who was convinced that his wife was cheating on him and had her locked up in a tower for the rest of her life, which was not long. The guide and I speculated about whether or not she had been faithful. We both figured that she had been, since the desperation in her face would have been of a different sort if she was just pleading for her life. The guide thinks that the man looks as though he's just then called the sentries to drag her away, and he can't bear to look at her. Very tragic.
The other marvelous thing that this guide did for me and Ines was getting us into The Western Art Print room, which has drawing, studies, sketches, and prints done by various artists. Anyone can go, but you have to call ahead. We didn't know anything about it before, but our guide thought we'd really enjoy it, so he got us in there today. We went in with a couple of other people. We saw some of da Vinci's sketches, which were tiny, but very detailed. I was afraid to breathe on them. We saw some of Turner's studies, which were amazing. Even at very undeveloped stages, his grasp of light and form is so apparent. We also saw quite a number of Degas' sketches and such. They were so inspiring. I love Degas. It was a thrilling moment. I could have stayed longer to look at the Durer, Rubens, and Rembrandt they'd agreed to pull out for us, but by this time I was experiencing a little sensory overload. I made an appointment to go back with Jennifer on Friday to see Raphael and Michelangelo.
It really was an amazing visit. It's so different from the British Museum, which has everything, it seems, but is too busy to really be fully enjoyed. I got to see most of the Ashmolean today, but I will certainly enjoy seeing it again and again. It is right here, after all, and it is free. I definitely intend to return.
Check out pictures of some of the stuff I saw there (but not everything. Photographs were not allowed in the print room, and my battery went dead while I was there anyway): http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=47117&l=b6d2d&id=500823168.
My evening after my visit to the Ashmolean was also pleasant-- I went out for Indian food with some friends and then sat in the backyard with classmates and ate some more-- but much less eventful. I hope your lives are going similarly.
Second, I love the Ashmolean.
After class today, I popped into the free museum that Oxford University (I think) sponsors and was pleasantly surprised by its wonderful collection. I don't know what I was expecting-- maybe something like Buffalo Gap Historic Village, but with a British accent. The museum really was wonderful. It had a varied collection of many excellent pieces as well as some very credible reproductions. Best of all, it had lots of benches for sitting and thinking or resting one's feet. A pleasant bonus was a wonderful staff member who went out of his way to make sure the patrons of the museum had an enjoyable visit.
While I was there, I was taking some pictures of a piano (harpsichord? I couldn't find a display tag) next to another young woman who was from France. The staff member noticed our interest, and waved us over to him. "You've got to see this. Make sure you don't leave the Museum without seeing this," he said. He pointed us to the back of a reproduction of a Stradivarius instrument. The front was impressive enough, but the back was even more beautiful. It had a lovely miniature scene of Adam, Eve, the serpent, and the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. On the back of the very top part there was another figure (one that I could not identify, but which might have been an angel) that was also intricate and very impressive.
After we'd seen this, my new French friend (Ines, from Avignon, studying art history in Paris, visiting Oxford in order to improve her English, and absolutely stunning, says I must see the museums there. There are excellent Impressionist and Fauvist collections, she says.) and myself were once again waved over by the curator. He pointed us to a painting of the back of a man riding a horse. "Why do you think he's trotting away?" asked the staff member. Ines and I observed that one didn't usually see paintings of the backside of horses. The staff member then proceeded to tell us his interpretation of the painting-- the marks on the road were not pebbles, as I'd assumed, but were pieces of money, like the 30 pieces of silver that Judas accepted to betray Christ. The man in the painting had sold out his soldier companions, and was now slowly riding through the battlefield (hence, the smoke in the painting) observing the fruits of his betrayal. Our guide believed that the soldier, seeing his friends' deaths, wouldn't be able to live with himself and was on his way to commit suicide. Ines and I agreed that it was certainly a possibility. It was really neat listening to him talk about something he'd obviously considered at length.
Our guide then directed us to a lovely statue. It's gorgeous. It depicts a couple whose relationship is obviously in trouble. The woman has wrapped her arm around the man's shoulder and holds his arm close to her chest. She is looking kind of up and around, trying to look into his face. The man, though, is looking down and away. He allows the woman to touch him, but he does not respond. It's a beautiful, expressive, intricate sculpture. Apparently this is meant to portray the story of a man who was convinced that his wife was cheating on him and had her locked up in a tower for the rest of her life, which was not long. The guide and I speculated about whether or not she had been faithful. We both figured that she had been, since the desperation in her face would have been of a different sort if she was just pleading for her life. The guide thinks that the man looks as though he's just then called the sentries to drag her away, and he can't bear to look at her. Very tragic.
The other marvelous thing that this guide did for me and Ines was getting us into The Western Art Print room, which has drawing, studies, sketches, and prints done by various artists. Anyone can go, but you have to call ahead. We didn't know anything about it before, but our guide thought we'd really enjoy it, so he got us in there today. We went in with a couple of other people. We saw some of da Vinci's sketches, which were tiny, but very detailed. I was afraid to breathe on them. We saw some of Turner's studies, which were amazing. Even at very undeveloped stages, his grasp of light and form is so apparent. We also saw quite a number of Degas' sketches and such. They were so inspiring. I love Degas. It was a thrilling moment. I could have stayed longer to look at the Durer, Rubens, and Rembrandt they'd agreed to pull out for us, but by this time I was experiencing a little sensory overload. I made an appointment to go back with Jennifer on Friday to see Raphael and Michelangelo.
It really was an amazing visit. It's so different from the British Museum, which has everything, it seems, but is too busy to really be fully enjoyed. I got to see most of the Ashmolean today, but I will certainly enjoy seeing it again and again. It is right here, after all, and it is free. I definitely intend to return.
Check out pictures of some of the stuff I saw there (but not everything. Photographs were not allowed in the print room, and my battery went dead while I was there anyway): http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=47117&l=b6d2d&id=500823168.
My evening after my visit to the Ashmolean was also pleasant-- I went out for Indian food with some friends and then sat in the backyard with classmates and ate some more-- but much less eventful. I hope your lives are going similarly.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Lazy Bum
So, I have spent the last couple of days doing my best to do nothing. This effort was somewhat thwarted by the fact that I had two little paperlings due today. Homework addict that I am, I actually did them. I felt like I'd done much more thinking than showed up in my writing, but I suppose that's not new.
I had a lovely time Sunday. I was able to find the ward here in Oxford without any trouble (but with a lot of walking, even for here) and was even on time (barely). My feet did not bother me a bit, which I think is a good thing. Everyone there was very cordial. Oxford is full of school groups this time of year, so I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised to run into an entire group of LDS students travelling together (from SVU), but I was. I was actually a little annoyed, because it was their first Sunday in the ward as well and people thought I was with them. They're very nice people, but they are all young single adults. Since I am not, I ended up being left out of both their group and the regular congregation, a little. I corrected a few people's misunderstandings and I'm sure word will get around. Even with the mistaken identity, the members there were kind. I really enjoyed the Sunday School lesson, which anyone who knows me at church will recognize as a rare occurrence. Maybe I was just glad for the break from Primary (I did miss the kids at home though...)
After church, I spent some time reading in a nearby park beside a pond. Aside from the bugs (which are nothing compared to Arkansas mosquitoes), it was a very pleasant rest. Behind me was a little stream down which families were boating. Another family brought their dog to the park with them. The dog promptly jumped into the pond and started swimming after the ducks, but the ducks were too fast for him. I had plenty of time for reflection.
That evening, our school group met together for a kind of mandatory worship time. It was, to me, very strange, though I know it was probably nothing unusual to most of the people there. I think the part I enjoyed the most was when everybody prayed together. It was very moving. I suppose if I wanted to, I could produce some big long list of things I disagreed with or things that made me uncomfortable and why, but I think that would really be contrary to the good that was achieved in that meeting. Any hesitations on my part were easily counteracted by the presence of the Comforter there, as unexpected as that was for me. We'll see how things go next week.
Today, I went to class, bought groceries, and did laundry. Woooo! I am definitely enjoying the exotic and particular pleasures of Oxford life. :) I am just happy to have clean clothes. I am extra happy that they did not get rained on. Our laundry room is in another building, just a stone's throw from the house, downstairs in a basement. It is difficult to find (or at least it was difficult for me to find the first time. I eventually gave up and asked someone to show me. Lame of me, I know, but I just can't have an adventurous spirit accompanied by dirty underwear) but is otherwise just your typical laundry room.
We are starting a new unit this week that intends to address the tension between the sacred & the common. I feel mostly (unintentionally) left out of this conversation, but perhaps I'll post a few comments here about what I read.
If you're interested in seeing some peaceful (boring) pictures of my last couple relaxing (boring) days, you're welcome to check them out here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=47029&l=b7133&id=500823168.
As always, thanks for your interest. The next couple of days should be more interesting (to you. I'm having fun just breathing in Oxford.). Ciao, y'all.
I had a lovely time Sunday. I was able to find the ward here in Oxford without any trouble (but with a lot of walking, even for here) and was even on time (barely). My feet did not bother me a bit, which I think is a good thing. Everyone there was very cordial. Oxford is full of school groups this time of year, so I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised to run into an entire group of LDS students travelling together (from SVU), but I was. I was actually a little annoyed, because it was their first Sunday in the ward as well and people thought I was with them. They're very nice people, but they are all young single adults. Since I am not, I ended up being left out of both their group and the regular congregation, a little. I corrected a few people's misunderstandings and I'm sure word will get around. Even with the mistaken identity, the members there were kind. I really enjoyed the Sunday School lesson, which anyone who knows me at church will recognize as a rare occurrence. Maybe I was just glad for the break from Primary (I did miss the kids at home though...)
After church, I spent some time reading in a nearby park beside a pond. Aside from the bugs (which are nothing compared to Arkansas mosquitoes), it was a very pleasant rest. Behind me was a little stream down which families were boating. Another family brought their dog to the park with them. The dog promptly jumped into the pond and started swimming after the ducks, but the ducks were too fast for him. I had plenty of time for reflection.
That evening, our school group met together for a kind of mandatory worship time. It was, to me, very strange, though I know it was probably nothing unusual to most of the people there. I think the part I enjoyed the most was when everybody prayed together. It was very moving. I suppose if I wanted to, I could produce some big long list of things I disagreed with or things that made me uncomfortable and why, but I think that would really be contrary to the good that was achieved in that meeting. Any hesitations on my part were easily counteracted by the presence of the Comforter there, as unexpected as that was for me. We'll see how things go next week.
Today, I went to class, bought groceries, and did laundry. Woooo! I am definitely enjoying the exotic and particular pleasures of Oxford life. :) I am just happy to have clean clothes. I am extra happy that they did not get rained on. Our laundry room is in another building, just a stone's throw from the house, downstairs in a basement. It is difficult to find (or at least it was difficult for me to find the first time. I eventually gave up and asked someone to show me. Lame of me, I know, but I just can't have an adventurous spirit accompanied by dirty underwear) but is otherwise just your typical laundry room.
We are starting a new unit this week that intends to address the tension between the sacred & the common. I feel mostly (unintentionally) left out of this conversation, but perhaps I'll post a few comments here about what I read.
If you're interested in seeing some peaceful (boring) pictures of my last couple relaxing (boring) days, you're welcome to check them out here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=47029&l=b7133&id=500823168.
As always, thanks for your interest. The next couple of days should be more interesting (to you. I'm having fun just breathing in Oxford.). Ciao, y'all.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
LDN
1. There are not enough benches in The British Museum.
2. Victoria Station is hostile to novices.
3. People in London are not as friendly as people in Oxford.
4. London cannot be fully explored in a day.
5. I am currently listening to Radiohead.
That said, I had a really lovely time in London yesterday. It's a place that I would enjoy being better acquainted with. We left Oxford 7-ish and took a coach into London. We hopped on and off the Underground a few different times, and that was really neat, too. I've never had such a pleasant time being squished and grimy. The Underground is such a thrilling place, in spite of the blase (or maybe just tired and bored) attitude of its regular users. I love the rocking of the rail cars and rush of air from others going past. I love the tricky negotiations of hand placement, stance, and bag arrangement that are all calculated to keep yourself upright, keep your things from being stolen, and keep yourself from actually touching anyone. And people do this successfully almost every time! Amazing town.
First, we went to The Globe, which is a reconstruction of the theatre where Shakespeare's troupe performed for a time. After that, we went to The British Library, which quietly knocked my socks off. To view pictures of that, go here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=46614&l=6f271&id=500823168. (Hopefully this will work better than shutterfly. Let me know.)
After that, we went to the British Museum, which was amazing. I only went through maybe a third of it, and not very thoroughly. I felt like I learned so much. I wish I had taken better notes. I apologize for the bare nature of the captions on these photos, but there was just so much information that I've lost most of it. As I said, I wish I'd taken better notes. To see what I saw (and thought was important or interesting), check here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=46621&l=556b9&id=500823168.
I also saw some Japanese paintings of ghosts that were really amazing, but did not take pictures of them. Probably there are plenty of pictures as it is though, don't you think? Visiting The British Museum made me wish that I lived (or was staying for an extended period of time) nearby, so that I could absorb it in more bite-sized chunks. It was a little overwhelming as it was.
And of course, before, during, and after visiting these specific spots, I saw some other very beautiful or interesting things. They can be seen here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=46630&l=47e5a&id=500823168.
and here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=46633&l=db84b&id=500823168
One of my favorite moments was buying roasted peanuts while crossing Westminster Bridge. The weather was brisk and a little misty, and now it seems to me that that is the perfect context for roasted peanuts. Buying them in the mall would never feel as thrilling as munching them alongside the Thames.
After all the looking around, I was sore and wet and tired. I really admire the patience and good spirits of my travelling companions. As far as I can tell, no one really complained (except maybe me) and there were plenty of moments where whining might have been excusable. We walked around in circles more than once, and finding the spot to catch our coach back to Oxford was just ridiculous. But we got home. It was a good, if long, day.
2. Victoria Station is hostile to novices.
3. People in London are not as friendly as people in Oxford.
4. London cannot be fully explored in a day.
5. I am currently listening to Radiohead.
That said, I had a really lovely time in London yesterday. It's a place that I would enjoy being better acquainted with. We left Oxford 7-ish and took a coach into London. We hopped on and off the Underground a few different times, and that was really neat, too. I've never had such a pleasant time being squished and grimy. The Underground is such a thrilling place, in spite of the blase (or maybe just tired and bored) attitude of its regular users. I love the rocking of the rail cars and rush of air from others going past. I love the tricky negotiations of hand placement, stance, and bag arrangement that are all calculated to keep yourself upright, keep your things from being stolen, and keep yourself from actually touching anyone. And people do this successfully almost every time! Amazing town.
First, we went to The Globe, which is a reconstruction of the theatre where Shakespeare's troupe performed for a time. After that, we went to The British Library, which quietly knocked my socks off. To view pictures of that, go here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=46614&l=6f271&id=500823168. (Hopefully this will work better than shutterfly. Let me know.)
After that, we went to the British Museum, which was amazing. I only went through maybe a third of it, and not very thoroughly. I felt like I learned so much. I wish I had taken better notes. I apologize for the bare nature of the captions on these photos, but there was just so much information that I've lost most of it. As I said, I wish I'd taken better notes. To see what I saw (and thought was important or interesting), check here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=46621&l=556b9&id=500823168.
I also saw some Japanese paintings of ghosts that were really amazing, but did not take pictures of them. Probably there are plenty of pictures as it is though, don't you think? Visiting The British Museum made me wish that I lived (or was staying for an extended period of time) nearby, so that I could absorb it in more bite-sized chunks. It was a little overwhelming as it was.
And of course, before, during, and after visiting these specific spots, I saw some other very beautiful or interesting things. They can be seen here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=46630&l=47e5a&id=500823168.
and here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=46633&l=db84b&id=500823168
One of my favorite moments was buying roasted peanuts while crossing Westminster Bridge. The weather was brisk and a little misty, and now it seems to me that that is the perfect context for roasted peanuts. Buying them in the mall would never feel as thrilling as munching them alongside the Thames.
After all the looking around, I was sore and wet and tired. I really admire the patience and good spirits of my travelling companions. As far as I can tell, no one really complained (except maybe me) and there were plenty of moments where whining might have been excusable. We walked around in circles more than once, and finding the spot to catch our coach back to Oxford was just ridiculous. But we got home. It was a good, if long, day.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Royal Oak
So, instead of going on the Ghost Tour tonight, I went the wrong direction and didn't make it to the tour spot in time. I'll go another night. Instead, I went to a pub for the first time. It was nice and comfy. I really enjoyed it. Check it out here:
share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0EcM3Llw5YsneQ
share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0EcM3Llw5YsneQ
Thursday
Today, there was sunshine. My foot has not really been bothering me too much, so I have been able to enjoy the outside. I left for class a little early and sauntered around University Park until it was time to go to class in earnest. Have I mentioned all the dogs there are in Oxford? In any case, there are a lot of them, and they are all very well behaved. I walked to the Park with a very friendly, but polite, Yorkie, and his owner. I saw several other dogs in the Park itself. One was muzzled, and a couple were on leashes, but for the most part the dogs here have a little more freedom than they do in public at home. Then again, at home, I am not around too many dogs, so maybe my perception is skewed. At any rate, most dogs here stay beside their owners and don't bother people and are very happy to be petted. Most owners seem to be more responsible than many at home, also. It's not so much that dogs are allowed to roam free here (though they are) so much as it is that people know the dogs have been trained properly and the owners will clean up after them. On my street at home, our neighbor dogs are also allowed to roam leashless, but their owners do not take any kind of responsibility for them and certainly have not taught them to behave around people. I like that here one can see many dogs without having to "manage" being around them or make allowances for their behavior. It's a good feeling.
After class today, our professors took a few of us to lunch today to get to know us better. They're doing this with everyone in our class, but not with everyone at once. Anyway, we went to Pizza Express, which is in a fabulously old building-- I think the sign out from says 1193-- that I have taken pictures of before (it's pink). Inside, there are spots where the wall had designs painted on it in the Middle Ages, which they have since re-discovered and decided to preserve. Lunch itself was long, but delightful. We talked of shoes and ships and sealing wax, but not cabbages or kings. One of my classmates was kind enough to explain to me some of his current research on the emergent church. (I didn't know what that was, either. So far I think it's experimental, not-necessarily-denominational, small group worship that attempts to pull together tradition and contemporary forms of praise. I think. They had to explain it several times to me.) People told stories about themselves and each other and we just generally had a nice time. When asked, both professors claimed that their personal academic fears involve increasing calcification or atrophy, or somehow losing a sense of wonder at the world. They want to be sure to avoid the kind of scholastic pride that actually prevents a person from continuing to grow and to learn. I appreciated their willingness to speak so candidly. When they turned the question back on me, the subject was changed before I had to answer fully. I was glad because I'm not sure how I would answer that.
After lunch, my classmate Elena and I walked around town for a little bit. We climbed this tower that was built by the Saxons-- the Saxons, people!!!! It was very exciting. I definitely felt a sense of awe as we climbed up, up, up, to the top. Awe and a little fear, because I sometimes get nervous around heights. This wasn't terribly high, but the stairs were rickety enough that I was picturing myself falling down and dying. Probably it was just my imagination, though. It was a really lovely experience.
I'm home now, but I'm probably going to go out for "Ghost Tours" later this evening. If I take photos, I will be sure to post them later. For now, view today's pictures at share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0EcM3Llw5YsnaA
There will be some pictures in there from yesterday. The new ones begin where the old ones end. :)
Enjoy!
After class today, our professors took a few of us to lunch today to get to know us better. They're doing this with everyone in our class, but not with everyone at once. Anyway, we went to Pizza Express, which is in a fabulously old building-- I think the sign out from says 1193-- that I have taken pictures of before (it's pink). Inside, there are spots where the wall had designs painted on it in the Middle Ages, which they have since re-discovered and decided to preserve. Lunch itself was long, but delightful. We talked of shoes and ships and sealing wax, but not cabbages or kings. One of my classmates was kind enough to explain to me some of his current research on the emergent church. (I didn't know what that was, either. So far I think it's experimental, not-necessarily-denominational, small group worship that attempts to pull together tradition and contemporary forms of praise. I think. They had to explain it several times to me.) People told stories about themselves and each other and we just generally had a nice time. When asked, both professors claimed that their personal academic fears involve increasing calcification or atrophy, or somehow losing a sense of wonder at the world. They want to be sure to avoid the kind of scholastic pride that actually prevents a person from continuing to grow and to learn. I appreciated their willingness to speak so candidly. When they turned the question back on me, the subject was changed before I had to answer fully. I was glad because I'm not sure how I would answer that.
After lunch, my classmate Elena and I walked around town for a little bit. We climbed this tower that was built by the Saxons-- the Saxons, people!!!! It was very exciting. I definitely felt a sense of awe as we climbed up, up, up, to the top. Awe and a little fear, because I sometimes get nervous around heights. This wasn't terribly high, but the stairs were rickety enough that I was picturing myself falling down and dying. Probably it was just my imagination, though. It was a really lovely experience.
I'm home now, but I'm probably going to go out for "Ghost Tours" later this evening. If I take photos, I will be sure to post them later. For now, view today's pictures at share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0EcM3Llw5YsnaA
There will be some pictures in there from yesterday. The new ones begin where the old ones end. :)
Enjoy!
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Reflections on Reading
Since most of what I'm doing at Oxford really is reading, I thought I'd include a little bit of reflection on some of what I've read for today's class. This portion is an excerpt from Chapter 3 ("Membership") of C.S. Lewis' The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses. The first bit I'd like to think about reads as follows:
"There is, in forms too subtle for official embodiment, a continual interchange of complementary ministrations. We are all constantly teaching and learning, forgiving and being forgiven, representing Christ to man when we intercede, and man to Christ when others intercede for us. The sacrifice of selfish privacy which is daily demanded of us is daily repaid a hundredfold in the true growth of personality which the life of the Body [i.e. active participation in a church community] encourages. Those who are members of one another become as diverse as the hand and the ear. That is why the worldlings are so monotonously alike compared with the almost fantastic variety of the saints."
In this essay, Lewis is defining what it means to be in a church community and defending the necessity of such communities. Lewis is obviously drawing from scriptural sources and the thoughts of earlier Christian apologists, but his words also remind me of some specifically LDS passages. His allusion to 1 Corinthians 12 (v. 12-27, specifically) works as a shaping metaphor throughout his essay, but I think King Benjamin's assessment of our position vis-a-vis our fellow humans is also applicable. I often think of Mosiah 4:19 & 21 (For behold, are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend on the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of every kind? . . . . And now, if God, who has created you, on whom you are dependent for your lives and for all that ye have and are, doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing that ye shall receive, O then, how ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another.") because it is one of my favorite scriptures in The Book of Mormon, but that's not the only reason it connects. I think both excerpts of scripture, as well as Lewis, point to the necessity of humility. We have said in my class that in order to have positive community, we need to have self-sacrifice. People have to be willing to put the needs of others before their own, and find that helping others is, in fact, in their own best self-interest. However, before we can have self-sacrifice, we need to have humility. Humility is the virtue that makes self-sacrifice possible. Without the recognition that each individual is necessary as an individual, as an Other, sacrifice is meaningless, if not nonexistent. True humility is that virtue not of self-abasement, but of true self- and Other- recognition. It allows us to see where we fit into our systems, and how our place is essentially and importantly ours. If we are able to be humble, we are able to perform our best work, to be our very best selves, because we no longer need to be concerned with fitting ourselves to the measurement of others. Humility is a kind of freedom, then, or that which enables freedom.
The other section I wanted to talk about reads:
"It is idle to say that men are of equal value. If value is taken in a worldly sense-- if we mean that all men are equally useful or beautiful or good or entertaining -- then it is nonsense. If it means that all are of equal value as immortal souls, then I think it conceals a dangerous error. The infinite value of each human soul is not a Christian doctrine. God did not die for man because of some value He perceived in him. The value of each human soul considered simply in itself, out of relation to God, is zero. As St. Paul writes, to have died for valuable men would have been not divine but merely heroic; but God died for sinners. He loved us not because we were lovable, but because He is Love. It may be that He loves all equally -- He certainly loved all to the death -- and I am not certain what the expression means. If there is equality, it is in His love, not in us."
I like this passage because I think it's cleverly done. I like how he points out that it is God who gives our lives and existence meaning. That grates against my perhaps American sense of independence, my cultural belief that I have value simply by existing, and that others do likewise. However, that tension is resolved by the recognition that there is no human that exists "out of relation to God." Whether we choose to follow Him or not, whether we know of Him or not, we still exist in relationship with Him, if only because He created us and our world, all we know and are and all we can ever know or be. But again, I really appreciate Lewis' emphasis here on humility-- our "equality" (such as it is), like all other virtues, rests not in ourselves, but in Him. In 3 Nephi 12 (and elsewhere) we are reminded that we humans really are powerless and dependent upon Christ for everything.
Hopefully this was more interesting than foot-whining. I know not all of you are interested in religious themes, so I hope this wasn't too uncomfortable for you. Do let me know what you think.
"There is, in forms too subtle for official embodiment, a continual interchange of complementary ministrations. We are all constantly teaching and learning, forgiving and being forgiven, representing Christ to man when we intercede, and man to Christ when others intercede for us. The sacrifice of selfish privacy which is daily demanded of us is daily repaid a hundredfold in the true growth of personality which the life of the Body [i.e. active participation in a church community] encourages. Those who are members of one another become as diverse as the hand and the ear. That is why the worldlings are so monotonously alike compared with the almost fantastic variety of the saints."
In this essay, Lewis is defining what it means to be in a church community and defending the necessity of such communities. Lewis is obviously drawing from scriptural sources and the thoughts of earlier Christian apologists, but his words also remind me of some specifically LDS passages. His allusion to 1 Corinthians 12 (v. 12-27, specifically) works as a shaping metaphor throughout his essay, but I think King Benjamin's assessment of our position vis-a-vis our fellow humans is also applicable. I often think of Mosiah 4:19 & 21 (For behold, are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend on the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of every kind? . . . . And now, if God, who has created you, on whom you are dependent for your lives and for all that ye have and are, doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing that ye shall receive, O then, how ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another.") because it is one of my favorite scriptures in The Book of Mormon, but that's not the only reason it connects. I think both excerpts of scripture, as well as Lewis, point to the necessity of humility. We have said in my class that in order to have positive community, we need to have self-sacrifice. People have to be willing to put the needs of others before their own, and find that helping others is, in fact, in their own best self-interest. However, before we can have self-sacrifice, we need to have humility. Humility is the virtue that makes self-sacrifice possible. Without the recognition that each individual is necessary as an individual, as an Other, sacrifice is meaningless, if not nonexistent. True humility is that virtue not of self-abasement, but of true self- and Other- recognition. It allows us to see where we fit into our systems, and how our place is essentially and importantly ours. If we are able to be humble, we are able to perform our best work, to be our very best selves, because we no longer need to be concerned with fitting ourselves to the measurement of others. Humility is a kind of freedom, then, or that which enables freedom.
The other section I wanted to talk about reads:
"It is idle to say that men are of equal value. If value is taken in a worldly sense-- if we mean that all men are equally useful or beautiful or good or entertaining -- then it is nonsense. If it means that all are of equal value as immortal souls, then I think it conceals a dangerous error. The infinite value of each human soul is not a Christian doctrine. God did not die for man because of some value He perceived in him. The value of each human soul considered simply in itself, out of relation to God, is zero. As St. Paul writes, to have died for valuable men would have been not divine but merely heroic; but God died for sinners. He loved us not because we were lovable, but because He is Love. It may be that He loves all equally -- He certainly loved all to the death -- and I am not certain what the expression means. If there is equality, it is in His love, not in us."
I like this passage because I think it's cleverly done. I like how he points out that it is God who gives our lives and existence meaning. That grates against my perhaps American sense of independence, my cultural belief that I have value simply by existing, and that others do likewise. However, that tension is resolved by the recognition that there is no human that exists "out of relation to God." Whether we choose to follow Him or not, whether we know of Him or not, we still exist in relationship with Him, if only because He created us and our world, all we know and are and all we can ever know or be. But again, I really appreciate Lewis' emphasis here on humility-- our "equality" (such as it is), like all other virtues, rests not in ourselves, but in Him. In 3 Nephi 12 (and elsewhere) we are reminded that we humans really are powerless and dependent upon Christ for everything.
Hopefully this was more interesting than foot-whining. I know not all of you are interested in religious themes, so I hope this wasn't too uncomfortable for you. Do let me know what you think.
Notes from Lurch
Thank-you all for your kind notes and your sympathy. My foot still won't let me walk on it properly, but I'm sure it will be fine with time. There is a wonderful pharmacy/makeup store (Boots, if that means anything to any of you) where I have found some mostly-effective painkillers and other helpful things. It's like a mini-Sephora and an Eckerd's all in one (500 year old) building. Very handy. And thanks for the advice on foot care. Keep it coming. It's really helpful. I plan on following all of it.
First, I woke up today at 5:30 this morning when my room was light. It does seem to get lighter about an hour earlier than at home, and dark about an hour later. That's ok, it just makes it hard to sleep. :) Anyway, since I'm all gimpy for the time being, I left the house a little early to make sure that 1. I got to class on time and 2. I wasn't gimping around in front my classmates. I am so upset at myself for not taking care of myself properly to begin with, and so angry in general that I can't walk as well I as I usually can that I would be uncomfortable walking with people I know. I don't want their pity, I want their mobility. :) But I had a lovely walk with some nice stops to rest my foot and look around. I took pictures as I went and have posted them, along with some others, here:
http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0EcM3Llw5YsnWw
It has rained all day again, which I suppose is normal for here. I like the rain, but I wish I had prepared better for it. Never having lived any place that's this rainy, all I can say is that I grossly underestimated how wet things would be. I still like the rain plenty, it's just something that one needs to be prepared for. You know what, though? I am surprised at how dirty this place is. I would think that the water would wash away all the leaf litter and such, but no, the dirt just seems to get dirtier AND there's mud. Not very much though. Compared to the thick red clay that cakes over everything in Abilene when it rains, I would say there's none at all. In any case, it's rainy and dirty. I like it though. Everything looks softer and the world is more private. It provides a person with an excuse for inner reflection. I have gotten some nice writing done today as a result. There is plenty of "scope for the imagination" for me as I sit in my attic bedroom, facing the mist outside and listening to the muted bells of (I think) St. Giles'. Not to mention that the near-superfluity of verdure is in part due to this constant rain. So while the rain is somewhat inconvenient, I am grateful for it.
The other thing I noticed today as I was limping around, doing my shopping, is how many other people were similarly disabled. My pulled foot muscle is, of course, not really an affliction, and only temporary, but there were many people out there with me who were also limping for one reason or another. A few of these looked exactly like how I've always imagined an Oxford professor would look-- tweed suit, thinning flyaway hair, glasses slipping down on one's nose-- with the addition of a cane. One charming old gentleman was bent nearly in half, grumbling to himself and carrying a school satchel/valise/briefcase-type thing. He was clearly deep in thought and took his time crossing a busy intersection. I crossed with him because his pace was just about the same as mine. I also passed a pair of woman, one old and one middle-aged. The older woman was sitting in an electric wheelchair with a basket in front and the middle-aged woman was holding an umbrella ("brelly," here) over her. They were talking about what to get from the market. I was in their way, but they were plenty polite about it as I moved over and they passed me. And there were others. I was grateful that I was not the only person unable to keep up with the typical Oxford pace, though to be honest, I was having trouble keeping up even when both of my feet were working. It's odd, but I really felt like I was less in the way limping around than I was when I was striding.
The other thing I noticed today that I love about Oxford is all the music. I passed by Italian workmen who were remodeling the inside of a building, and one man was just singing his heart out. As I was tromping past the shoe store for the third time (it took me a while to decide that I really was going to buy the shoes after all), three young men were marching up the street, arms linked, singing some college song at the top of their lungs. The man at the pasty shop sings to himself as he cooks. Old women hum and old men whistle. And then, of course, there are the organs in the churches, the thumping beat coming from delivery vans, and the hourly bells. Maybe people sing like this in America and we're all just spread out too much to notice it, but it doesn't seem that way to me. I think our singing is largely confined to the shower or, occassionally, church and pep rallies. What do you think? Is this true? If so, why don't we sing more? What does it mean?
I know all this talk about feet and walking is getting a little boring, but it's really influenced what I've been able to do and what I've seen or noticed in the past few days. Don't worry, things will get more interesting. Thanks for your patience in reading all of this. I hope you all are doing well.
Lots of love...
First, I woke up today at 5:30 this morning when my room was light. It does seem to get lighter about an hour earlier than at home, and dark about an hour later. That's ok, it just makes it hard to sleep. :) Anyway, since I'm all gimpy for the time being, I left the house a little early to make sure that 1. I got to class on time and 2. I wasn't gimping around in front my classmates. I am so upset at myself for not taking care of myself properly to begin with, and so angry in general that I can't walk as well I as I usually can that I would be uncomfortable walking with people I know. I don't want their pity, I want their mobility. :) But I had a lovely walk with some nice stops to rest my foot and look around. I took pictures as I went and have posted them, along with some others, here:
http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0EcM3Llw5YsnWw
It has rained all day again, which I suppose is normal for here. I like the rain, but I wish I had prepared better for it. Never having lived any place that's this rainy, all I can say is that I grossly underestimated how wet things would be. I still like the rain plenty, it's just something that one needs to be prepared for. You know what, though? I am surprised at how dirty this place is. I would think that the water would wash away all the leaf litter and such, but no, the dirt just seems to get dirtier AND there's mud. Not very much though. Compared to the thick red clay that cakes over everything in Abilene when it rains, I would say there's none at all. In any case, it's rainy and dirty. I like it though. Everything looks softer and the world is more private. It provides a person with an excuse for inner reflection. I have gotten some nice writing done today as a result. There is plenty of "scope for the imagination" for me as I sit in my attic bedroom, facing the mist outside and listening to the muted bells of (I think) St. Giles'. Not to mention that the near-superfluity of verdure is in part due to this constant rain. So while the rain is somewhat inconvenient, I am grateful for it.
The other thing I noticed today as I was limping around, doing my shopping, is how many other people were similarly disabled. My pulled foot muscle is, of course, not really an affliction, and only temporary, but there were many people out there with me who were also limping for one reason or another. A few of these looked exactly like how I've always imagined an Oxford professor would look-- tweed suit, thinning flyaway hair, glasses slipping down on one's nose-- with the addition of a cane. One charming old gentleman was bent nearly in half, grumbling to himself and carrying a school satchel/valise/briefcase-type thing. He was clearly deep in thought and took his time crossing a busy intersection. I crossed with him because his pace was just about the same as mine. I also passed a pair of woman, one old and one middle-aged. The older woman was sitting in an electric wheelchair with a basket in front and the middle-aged woman was holding an umbrella ("brelly," here) over her. They were talking about what to get from the market. I was in their way, but they were plenty polite about it as I moved over and they passed me. And there were others. I was grateful that I was not the only person unable to keep up with the typical Oxford pace, though to be honest, I was having trouble keeping up even when both of my feet were working. It's odd, but I really felt like I was less in the way limping around than I was when I was striding.
The other thing I noticed today that I love about Oxford is all the music. I passed by Italian workmen who were remodeling the inside of a building, and one man was just singing his heart out. As I was tromping past the shoe store for the third time (it took me a while to decide that I really was going to buy the shoes after all), three young men were marching up the street, arms linked, singing some college song at the top of their lungs. The man at the pasty shop sings to himself as he cooks. Old women hum and old men whistle. And then, of course, there are the organs in the churches, the thumping beat coming from delivery vans, and the hourly bells. Maybe people sing like this in America and we're all just spread out too much to notice it, but it doesn't seem that way to me. I think our singing is largely confined to the shower or, occassionally, church and pep rallies. What do you think? Is this true? If so, why don't we sing more? What does it mean?
I know all this talk about feet and walking is getting a little boring, but it's really influenced what I've been able to do and what I've seen or noticed in the past few days. Don't worry, things will get more interesting. Thanks for your patience in reading all of this. I hope you all are doing well.
Lots of love...
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Oxford 1
Many of you have been asking about how I've been enjoying Oxford so far and what I've been doing, so I figured I'd set up a blog to tell you about it. Normally I don't use this blog space for this kind of thing, but let's face it-- normally i don't use my blog space at all. :) This way you can read about it at your own convenience and I don't have to worry about boring uninterested parties. Pictures for while I'm in Oxford are posted at: share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0EcM3Llw5YsnSg, though I may have to update which site that is whenever I post new pictures. Hopefully that will work ok for everyone. It's much easier to post them there than to post them here. If you know of a better service, please let me know. Most of the pictures have descriptions beyond their file names that describe whatever other neat things I would tell you about that picture if you & I were looking at them together. Unfortunately, shutterfly does not have a way for you to post comments in return, but feel free to email them to me.
Oxford so far has been pretty wonderful. The flight was delightful, aside from its length. I have been terribly homesick, but that's getting better. Yesterday, our group took a walking tour of Oxford that was really enjoyable. I love how pedestrian-friendly Oxford is. Doubtless Oxford is not alone in this, but I like it all the same. I love the vibe of the town, too. Everyone (almost) is busy doing something, and it's clear that you're expected to be doing something also. Even people reading in a park seem to be reading purposefully. And yet, in spite of all this busy-ness, people really are very cordial and friendly. If you interrupt them at their work (as I have done, more than once already, I'm afraid), they're plenty kind and helpful. I have not been made to feel like a nuisance by anyone and I have been happily helped by quite a few. These are all generalizations, of course. There are beggars and panhandlers here just like anywhere else, and there are jerks everywhere. But so far I am enjoying the feel of the city.
After our group tour, I went shopping and bought dinner and a rain coat. It rained almost all day yesterday, which left me very very cold. After dinner, I wandered around town a bit, but ended up getting lost. I ended up in a nearby town (or was it just another neighborhood? it's difficult to tell, here.) called New Merton (I think), where someone was kind enough to point me back in the right direction. I was not wearing the right shoes for getting lost in and ended up with a huge bloody blister.
Today, we walked over to where our class is meeting (Linacre College) for the first time. It's a lovely walk, but I was unable to enjoy it as my portion of the group was abandoned at a stoplight and spent fifteen minutes or so trying to figure out where we were going. After that, we had a typical first-day-of-class meeting, plus an introductory discussion on the tension between individuals and community. I am making an effort not to speak in class because I don't want to make others feel like they can't speak (which unfortunately has happened in the past). I discovered today that if I wait long enough, someone else will probably say the gist of what I wanted to say anyhow. We'll see how long my new-found commitment to silence lasts. I have started every semester saying that to myself, and I've yet to truly implement that policy successfully.
After class, I had lunch and then walked around town a little, looking for appropriate walking shoes. During my walk, my body decided that it did not like walking, despite nearly 27 years of proof to the contrary, and my feet quit on me. I have an unpleasant tearing/burning/bruised/ouching pain on the side of my left foot. I took some aspirin for it finally and my friend (the Wonderful Jennifer Nissen, by which appellation she must henceforth be known) is getting me some foot brace or ace bandage or something from the pharmacy down the street. And by the way, I love the pharmacies here. You can ask the clerks for advice and they give it to you, and yet they're not at all nosy. Wonderful! (But not as wonderful as Jennifer). Anyway, so at the moment, I can't really walk, but I haven't done my grocery shopping yet today, so I may end up having yogurt (which was supposed to be breakfast, and was breakfast this morning) for dinner and going to bed early. Hopefully the aspirin will kick in and the bandage will help and I'll be up and around in a couple of hours. Crazy feet.
This is enough for now. I'll try to post something more intelligent (or interesting) and less whiny later, maybe about what I've been reading for class. I hope you enjoy the pictures.
Best wishes...
Oxford so far has been pretty wonderful. The flight was delightful, aside from its length. I have been terribly homesick, but that's getting better. Yesterday, our group took a walking tour of Oxford that was really enjoyable. I love how pedestrian-friendly Oxford is. Doubtless Oxford is not alone in this, but I like it all the same. I love the vibe of the town, too. Everyone (almost) is busy doing something, and it's clear that you're expected to be doing something also. Even people reading in a park seem to be reading purposefully. And yet, in spite of all this busy-ness, people really are very cordial and friendly. If you interrupt them at their work (as I have done, more than once already, I'm afraid), they're plenty kind and helpful. I have not been made to feel like a nuisance by anyone and I have been happily helped by quite a few. These are all generalizations, of course. There are beggars and panhandlers here just like anywhere else, and there are jerks everywhere. But so far I am enjoying the feel of the city.
After our group tour, I went shopping and bought dinner and a rain coat. It rained almost all day yesterday, which left me very very cold. After dinner, I wandered around town a bit, but ended up getting lost. I ended up in a nearby town (or was it just another neighborhood? it's difficult to tell, here.) called New Merton (I think), where someone was kind enough to point me back in the right direction. I was not wearing the right shoes for getting lost in and ended up with a huge bloody blister.
Today, we walked over to where our class is meeting (Linacre College) for the first time. It's a lovely walk, but I was unable to enjoy it as my portion of the group was abandoned at a stoplight and spent fifteen minutes or so trying to figure out where we were going. After that, we had a typical first-day-of-class meeting, plus an introductory discussion on the tension between individuals and community. I am making an effort not to speak in class because I don't want to make others feel like they can't speak (which unfortunately has happened in the past). I discovered today that if I wait long enough, someone else will probably say the gist of what I wanted to say anyhow. We'll see how long my new-found commitment to silence lasts. I have started every semester saying that to myself, and I've yet to truly implement that policy successfully.
After class, I had lunch and then walked around town a little, looking for appropriate walking shoes. During my walk, my body decided that it did not like walking, despite nearly 27 years of proof to the contrary, and my feet quit on me. I have an unpleasant tearing/burning/bruised/ouching pain on the side of my left foot. I took some aspirin for it finally and my friend (the Wonderful Jennifer Nissen, by which appellation she must henceforth be known) is getting me some foot brace or ace bandage or something from the pharmacy down the street. And by the way, I love the pharmacies here. You can ask the clerks for advice and they give it to you, and yet they're not at all nosy. Wonderful! (But not as wonderful as Jennifer). Anyway, so at the moment, I can't really walk, but I haven't done my grocery shopping yet today, so I may end up having yogurt (which was supposed to be breakfast, and was breakfast this morning) for dinner and going to bed early. Hopefully the aspirin will kick in and the bandage will help and I'll be up and around in a couple of hours. Crazy feet.
This is enough for now. I'll try to post something more intelligent (or interesting) and less whiny later, maybe about what I've been reading for class. I hope you enjoy the pictures.
Best wishes...
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