ELIOT, SPIDERMAN, AND SHERMAN ALEXIE...

I'm sure no one's going to get to see this, but today I was watching Spiderman II and Doc. Oct's wife quoted Burnt Norton "Time past and time present, are both perhaps present in time future..." no joke I was not even paying attention to the movie until I heard the lines and I instantly started reciting it with the lady. awesome. oh and the other thing is I am reading Sherman Alexie's book The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight in Heaven and towards the end of the short story A Drug Called Tradition the talk of time comes up, and past, present, future time as well as the eternal present..it is so close to Eliot's 4 q's that I got goose bumps. For once I am feeling the effects of my education. Thank you Dr. Sexson for opening my eyes and my mind to the world of beauty. I am more excited to make the amazing connections now than ever before!

ahh sadly this blog is over...just my luck.

~L.

el FIN...Safety first my fellow english majors

It seems so fitting, as Bri and I sit here thinking about our final capstone blog to look to music in order to create

our "last epiphany." Derek said "Oh Shit the condom broke!" but you know what!? They were at least

trying to be safe about it. And if you're gonna break a leg, you might as well be doing it off some sweet

cliff drop, or a big kicker in the park right? Well only if you are wearing a helmet (not a hamlet). And after

we graduate plan on being safe, but being safe in a new age way, being safe while taking risks in order

to fulfill all your little heart's desires! I just hope you all see the connection to the song the same or at least

kind of the same as I do.

This song just makes me think of happy things, and since my last posts were kind of angry. no wait they

were in fact angry. I feel like I need to let my inner lover out. I apply this song to all the English Majors

graduating with me. I hope you all feel the urge to dance, and to get a little freaky now that we are almost

official and ready to be officially unemployed, well at least the majority of us.

Just let go, but be safe while doing it!

We can dance if we want to.
We can leave your friends behind.
Cause' your friend don't dance,
and if they don't dance, well they're
no friends of mine.

Say, we can go where we want to.
A place where they will never find.
And we can act like we come from out of this world.
Leave the real one far behind.

We can dance.

We can go where we want to.
A place where they will never find.
And we can act like we come from out of this world.
Leave the real one far behind.

We can dance.

We can go when we want to.
Night is young and so am I.
And we can dress real neat
from our hands to our feet
and surprise you with a victory cry.

Say, we can act if we want to.
If we don't nobody will.
And you can act real rude,
and totally remove and I can act like an imbecile.

We can dance.
We can dance.
Everything's under control.

We can dance.
We can dance.
Doin it pole to pole.

We can dance.
We can dance.
Everybody look at your hands.

We can dance.
We can dance.
Everybody's takin' the chance.

Safety Dance.
Oh, Safety Dance.
Yes, Safety Dance.

We can dance if we want to.
We've got all your life, and mine.
As long as we abuse it,
Never gonna lose it.
Everything will work out right.

We can dance if we want to.
We can leave your friends behind.
Cause' your friend don't dance,
and if they don't dance, well they're
no friends of mine.

I say, we can dance.
We can dance.
Everything's under control.

We can dance.
We can dance.
Doin it pole to pole.

We can dance.
We can dance.
Everybody look at your hands.

We can dance.
We can dance.
Everybody's takin' the chance.

Dance.
Safety Dance.
Yes Safety Dance.
Safety Dance.
Let's Safety Dance.
Yes, Safety Dance.
Safety Dance.
Let's Safety Dance.

Safety Dance...
Safety Dance...
Safety Dance...
Safety Dance!

I enjoyed every day i got to spend in capstone, and i truly will miss the discussions. Thanks class for making it

a great 4 months of school.

~L.

Tai I will Bitch Slap you, and you will die because I am Little Legged Lisa and apparently I can kill people with my bare hands

Tai, you analyze friends like you've had to many drinks--humorously. I can picture you sitting at your computer thinking of some "witty" comment that you think I would laugh at, when in fact nothing you say makes me laugh--it makes me crack up and feel the joy of having a friend that can tear me apart in order to build me up again.

yeah I was angry, and yeah i still am, and my alarm clock has been going off since the day I was born. I am what you call an "angry bitch" but with some of the most light hearted ways about her. You, sadly, were not in my thought when I made the comment about BZ being overeducated, so don't flatter yourself. I was more or less making a reference to the angry soccer moms that do nothing with their education and instead spend their time running stop signs, praising their obviously cruel children, and looking at me like I'm the one offering her kids the "happy" pills that line her unlocked medicine cabinet. Oh and I was also talking about the creepy men that line the bars looking for some "sweet piece of ass" to swoon with his poetic words and bad boy attitude. I don't think you fall into either of these categories, and i don't think anyone else in our class falls into these categories...it is kind of nice to be around intelligent people who listen to you, and not just themselves.

This is more or less what I'm pissed about. about the fact that I won't have people like you around me to talk about Eliot while making extremely obscene comments and laughing aimlessly at ourselves. There will be no time like the present. I am sad and angry that it is ending.

~L.

I do all this work, and YOU get the degree.

I must say I'm a bit numb to this whole end of the school thing. Graduation seems like just another pointless ritual that we must subject ourselves to, when in fact it seems like graduating doesn't mean much anymore. I mean honestly it seems like anyone can get a college degree these days. Put maybe 1/2 the effort into their education and graduate at the same level as kids that spend their weekends in the library sacrificing their lives to books, calculations, and experiments. All for what? For someone else who worked half as hard as you to take a job away that you are obviously more qualified for.

This town is sadly over educated, and though staying her is my plan (for just a year!! haha right it never works like that), i feel like i am digging my own grave. If I fall into the Bozeman circle of ileitis (which i highly doubt they even want me) and know how educated I am, but choose to do nothing with it, I will be extremely disappointed with myself. Nothing against those people who live here and are educated, I'm just saying I cannot rely on this place to advance me in my life. Of course I am over generalizing the whole situation, but in all reality there is no place more educated with unapplied intelligence than Bozeman (as far as I am concerned/know).

It is kind of a cool thought, knowing that the majority of the time the person sitting next to you could carry on a very enlightening and well-versed conversation, but at the same time there's a reason why people stay here. Bozeman is a click--like one of those groups in High School where you have to wear the right shoes to be in. Yeah that's exactly what Bozeman is, a big frickin' click.

I guess I am just upset at the moment, realizing that I am done. I am done with what I know, and I am done with my comfortable seat, I am done with the classroom setting, and group projects, I am done. But yet I am just beginning. I really don't want to do this celebration, and I don't want to live in a place with so much influence and yet little diversity.

I don't feel worthy of my degree, and yet know how much time and effort i have put into it. It makes me sick to my stomach to think about the hours I have spent not sleeping, not eating, and not paying attention to the little illuminations of life for this degree, and some get away with not even breaking a mental sweat (not the students that are simply that smart, but the ones that do nothing and yet still pass). I too would like to enjoy my days and nights in other ways, and not spend my Saturday's in the library. I would like to take mini trips to places and have experiences, but I don't because I choose to be studious. And in the end, it seems to never pay off. I guess I'm lucky that I'm getting pissed about this now, because I probably would have dropped out of college after this semester if I wasn't graduating.

I guess it's just not my day today, and I needed to take it out on something, and how wonderful it is to have a blog to do that to, and not on someone that I could potentially hurt.

~L.

YO TAI

Today Tai killed it.

Today everyone else killed it. I loved our "communion," delicious and refreshing. I think that it was a brilliant way to present East Coker, and the ending of capstone. I have enjoyed getting to know you all, even though I haven't really spent much time one on one with all of you. I have managed to get to know some of you...and I must say if the people that I have made friends with are so awesome I'm sure you all that I have not had the pleasure of spending time with are just as awesome.

Group 2--

My favorite part--beside Kari telling Doug to not worry (so good, Kari your composure is incomparable, you are the master, and I only hope that one day I too can keep myself contained like you do)--was when everyone was reading lines from the different literature pieces, haha and the Police Reports!!! Awesome, it really brought a sense of chaos and what I have been feeling all semester long. I felt right at home with the meshing of words. Oh and of course i already shouted out to Tai, but WAY TO GO!! It is inevitable that we will 'jam' together you and your fiddle me and my awesome flute...or i have a ukulele, and a guitar, shit we should just start a wacky band.

Ok But everyone was great, and Taylor I loved your answer to the question of your presentation being sacrilegious, I agree mockery is the best form of flattery, and we are Literature majors, we must see things from all different perspective to affective tell the story.

Group 1--

Pat, your character reminded me of so many, but my favorite is Jazz Man from The Simpsons...i don't know why but you had some kind of ora about you that screamed "classy jazz man."

Mick, how did you do it? Your rant seemed almost too real! I loved it and couldn't stop laughing.

Kevin--modern Hamlet was meant for you, and your bright eyes, good luck with your internship.

Victoria--I doubt you are such a bitchy girlfriend, but thank you for channelling that, you were great.

Zuzu, there is something about your voice that is so easy to listen to, perhaps you should look into reading to elderly people, i know this sounds so funny and weird, but they enjoy it so much, and you are really go at it.

And Adam--your Horacio was great, Kari was right you have the best impression of him, a modern twist on an ancient character.

Everyone did so well, presentation are usually so blah. In other classes, i wouldn't second guess missing a day of presentations, but this class there is no way that a presentation could be less than entertaining and full of meaningful connections.

I just hope that you all enjoy our presentations on Wednesday.

~L.

Thanks!

So as presentations come to an end, well minus the three for Friday, I am coming to the realization that I might not be ready to graduate, but alas I must fare forward in my young travels and find a new stomping ground to explore.

I have enjoyed listening to each and every one of you present you papers (with the exception of last Friday which I am sorry I missed due to a dr. apt) your thoughts, your dreams, your imaginations, your faith in the future--as well as the past, and the connections you all have made. You all have opened my eyes to a whole new way to thinking. Seeing beyond myself and beyond the tip of my oh so cute Cindy Loo Woo nose. (JUST KIDDING!!) But honestly all that I have heard in this class has been uplifting, even the dreary parts are uplifting because I know that I have gained more from this one semester than I have my entire college career. This might be because I have actually taken time out of my personal life to focus on the material that Dr. Sexson picks out for us. If I would have just opened my eyes two years ago I might have a bit more under my belt, but I guess that's the way the cookie crumbles and I must move on to a bigger cookie a more delicious cookie, one the size of my head or rather one the size of the world!

I am so glad that I got to experience Capstone the right way, though stressful at the end, the stress is a sign that I too have grown and have found meaning in my education. I care for it, I cherish it, I plan to use it. And how Mick was so excited and joyous explaining his paper, it made me realize that even with all the stress and the many pages of paper waisted to revising, I too enjoyed the experience of writing my 'final' paper. I had the experience and missed the meaning, until Mick reminded me of the moment and I was there--again--immersed in the writing, the flow of fingers on the keyboard. Thanks Mick for reminding me of the meaning.

Every day that goes by, we are closer and closer to the end of our college river--some of you might be thinking of grad school, so your river is extended filled with larger rapids and sharp rocks. But for those that aren't thinking of grad school right away, or at all, our river is widening, into a delta, an estuary were the sea water mixes with the fresh water, and we are forced to learn how to live in a different environment. Its scary to think that I am going to have to learn how to live in salt water when I've been relaxing in the freshest of fresh waters--I guess it's a good thing I grew up by the biggest ocean of them all :)

And Victoria you me happy today with your third section quote (my favorite): "You are the music/While the music lasts" I read this line over daily, It brings me to the moment we are in now, forgetting the future is before us and the past is behind. We all march to a different drum line, and yet find a common note that we all can hear, feel, enjoy, as well as appreciate.

Cudos to all of us! And the three for Friday!

~L.

Now I feel Dumb

Thanks for everyone showing off their talents. If we were on a soccer field I too could show off some of my own talents, but sadly we were stuck in a classroom with not a ball but a stack of papers in front of me.

Everyday Illuminations

The everyday life after years of exposure to the elements of reality such as work, school, deadlines, failed relationships, television, and computers becomes worn out and repetitive for the individual. From times past to times present, we become jaded to the everyday moments that are divine and producing clarity of situations, and instead clutter our minds with dreams of the future. Humanity has centered its existence around the concept of time and divinity since the beginning. But time is not as simple as past, present, and future and divinity is not reached automatically. Instead time needs to be seen as only the present, with past memories to help us in the moment, and where future dreams are irrelevant and cannot be seen as reliable for recollection of past moments and divinity as something to strive for in everyday life.

Time and divinity can be seen as equals. Humans try to harness time with anti-aging remedies and stories of immortality. The divine is immortal, and there is no constraint of time upon it. Divinity is reached after time has taken life and transformed it into the afterlife. And though we cannot beat time, and all must succumb to it in death, humans can live in hopes of becoming divine by recognition of it in the everyday little moments of life. To look for the divine we are required to wind through silent moments of observance which are silenced themselves by the distracting chaos of everyday banality.

In T.S. Eliot’s The Four Quartets each line poses as a moment in the day that recognizes the divine and draws meaning to life. He took one life, focusing on individual days and each small epiphany that lead to the four grand epiphanies that happen throughout. Eliot picked the day down to the bone, and then picked further into minute illuminations of that day.

The moments of happiness--not the sense of well-being,

Fruition, fulfilment, security or affection,

Or even a very good dinner, but the sudden illumination--

We had the experience but missed the meaning,

And approach to the meaning restores the experience

In a different form (Eliot 39).

The power of the everyday epiphany is centered in self-reliance and knowing that reality is merely part of the path that leads to divinity.

Time is the eternal present, 'time past' is not time at all but rather memories that we use to help explain the situation in the instant. We must recognize the difference between memories and time and know that one simply helps the other make sense. Returning to a time is impossible, we can only return to a memory, "all time is unredeemable" (13). These memories can help make directional choices towards divinity but are not part of the present; they are only helpful reminders.

In each quartet is a grand epiphany, but what is divine in the quartets are the moment by moment lines that provide an understanding of time present as well as time past. We are not supposed to dream of the future, or hope for better days, we are supposed to see the divine in the moment. As Krishna, teaches Arjuna in The Bhagavad-Gita, "Know me, Arjuna...Know that nature's qualities come from me...All this universe, deluded by the qualities inherent in nature, fails to know that I am beyond them and unchanging" (74-75). If we desire to live fully as creatures with divine rights, we must see the world around us as divine, and know that divinity can reach us too. By sacrificing ourselves to the present, meditating on moments in the now enlightenment can be accomplished.

The future is intriguing, a constant thought brewing in our minds, something unattainable in the moment distracting us from the current moments--the only moments that exist. To guarantee is to have hope, but hope is merely a comfort for current moments. However, death is in every moment of life, therefore we must not presume that the future will be, and know the divine in all that exists. We believe that the future is truly something that can be attained, but forget that death is in every moment of life. The future is hope, and hope is an entity of the mind, a protective device that lets us mask our fears of the unknown.

In Annie Dillard's essay The Eclipse, she writes her experience after the fact. Using past memories to become involved with her major epiphany in that present, but what she failed to recognize in the moment of the eclipse was the divine, and that her time of recollection might have never been, because the future was not guaranteed to come. She unawarely placed her entire life in the future, relying on that day when she could reminisce of moments that have passed and turned into memories. If time ended for her in a car wreck on her way home from the hill where she witnessed the eclipse her account of that time would have never happened. Her assumption of future moments, like our own assumptions of the future, were selfish and undivine by nature.

What we choose to ignore in the present is that time is not a lingering entity of reality, and rather it is a constant flow of moments washed over by the minds inability to forage on from the past, and to not venture too far into the unknown. Recognizing the smaller moments and knowing that larger moments might not happen can bring peace to our lives. “The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come” Our lives might never reach the great revelation because it simply might not be a great moment, and rather just a small unadorned instant that passes by us inconspicuously. “Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark” (Woolf- To the Lighthouse). Trying to explain these illuminations in nearly impossible unless recognized in that moment, which are not large in comparison to grand epiphanies centered on a divine oracle presenting itself to you, because these moments do not need to be that grand.

From hearing “the unheard music” in Burnt Norton, to recognizing “[our] beginning is [our] end” in East Coker, knowing that “the way up is the way down” in Dry Salvages, and that “we shall not cease from exploration” in Little Gidding are all moments of our day to day realizations of our lives searching for the divine in everyday (Eliot 14, 23, 41, 59). And beyond the day to day realizations, spanning into the realm of transforming into divine beings, and sacrificing ourselves to the higher being of power is perhaps what these poems are meant to teach us.

=====================================================================

My eyes flutter open, usually the process of waking up is much more jarring and unpleasant, but today was different, still, calming, a moment that I could stay in forever. Rolling over I see 6:50, I beat the rude awakening of the excessively loud alarm clock application on my cell phone. With ten minutes to spare, who knows what is in store for me today. I made my way down to the kitchen where I always wish an automatic coffee pot would grace my tiny kitchen, but ah that’s right, the night before I had prepared for the morning setting up the coffee pot so that all I had to do was sleepily press a button.

As the coffee starts to brew I look out the window to the backyard, how nice it truly is to have a yard for the dogs as well as summer barbecues—but today is nothing like summer. It had snowed the day before, accumulating a great amount for April. Thinking back, in California April was filled with sun and rain, but mostly sun. Now that I live in Montana it is as if those memories are past dreams that I can vaguely remember, and yet today it is drizzling, bring me back home—minus the snow covered grass. But this is all ok, the snow, the drizzling rain, the coffee brewing behind me all of this is what makes a place like Montana so unique. I stood staring for a second, the coffee pot had made the coffee and is now silent, the rain is muffled by the door, and in this moment silence washed over me as I captured this moment—a moment of reflection and clarity.

I grab my cup of coffee and head back upstairs to throw together a typical outfit for a typical day—oh wait “I got to present my paper today in capstone, sigh, maybe I should dress up a bit…”

Pause…sip… ‘This coffee is delicious.’

“Nah, I’ll stick to the usual. I’m already going to be awkward enough.” Going about the normal routines I shower, apply lotion, put my contacts in, brush my hair—make sure to brush it properly since Tai so kindly pointed out that I often look like I don’t know how to use a brush—and finally dental hygiene.

While brushing my teeth I decide to turn off the running faucet (I have heard that going green starts with little moments—such as turning off running water when not needed). The silence is almost too much; I can hear my toothbrush moving back and forth inside my mouth, my thoughts are uncluttered by the rush of water. ‘Huh, I didn’t realize how peaceful brushing my teeth could actually be.’

The moment passed, water is completely off, and my tooth brush is in it home, gathering the rest of my junk together, I opened the door and stepped out into the morning—in front of the house where the world begins and the comfort of home is left behind. The pattering of rain on the melting snow sounds like mice tap dancing on carpet, ‘At least it’s acting more like spring,’ I think as the door shuts behind me and I start to hobble my way across the windy tundra running alongside Lincoln Street. The walk to school is nothing special, but after spending so much time typing about the little moments I start to see the little moments unfolding around me. The birds singing in the trees, the baby horse throwing his head in excitement at the fresh hay pile, and the mountains off in the distance that I can’t see right now, but know they are there.

I am transforming from home to school, from secluded to social Lisa all in a matter of 20 minute. ‘Is this my 20 minute lifetime that we went over in Emergent Lit? God, what a boring 20 minutes, oh wait that just means that I’m boring…great.’ I watch my feet step one lopsidedly in front of the other. “Stupid brace,” remembering back to high school when I had injured my knee for the last time—I thought—and how this brace had not been on my knee when I did it. Why hadn’t I been wearing it? What was I thinking? I knew and still know what my parents were thinking at the moment, “We told you so!” But they would never in a million years say that to me, not at that point in my life, when anything said was grounds for an all out yelling match dominated by the person usually in the wrong—me. But that time is in the past and though I can look back on it, it is not benefiting me at this moment, and I must ‘fare forward…Craig.’ The line is tainted forever now, thanks Group that was a great moment in class. And in this moment I see—the brace, my walk to school, the baby horse are all thinking that comfort my walk and that I expect to be here when I make my journey to school.

I keep on moving forward towards my biggest fear, public speaking. Running over my final paper in my head, ‘everyday moments that we don’t pay attention to, but need to because they are what will bring us clarity in everyday life. I need some clarity in my life.’ Reaching school still pondering what it is that I am actually going to say standing in front of class. I always prepare, but my words never sound the same in the moment. Perhaps preparation only works for mundane moments in life, such as preparing coffee the night before. Lost in the moment—what if everything was prepared for us, how would we know what to prepare for?—we can’t tell the future, and waste time trying to prepare for it.

“QUACK!”

What the heck, I jump a little, looking down I see a pair of mallard ducks; yeah I know the name because my dad is such a bird guy that I too have become obsessed with the heavenly creatures, sometimes I even get complemented on my ability to name the birds as we drive by them flying above fields. I always enjoy watching the ducks here on campus, they remind me of the campus in Reno, only there they have geese that are insane and attack at the drop of a dime—haha yeah that was funny when I got bit on my way to class. In the moment, the coloring on the male duck was brilliant. Strange how male animals have all the flare, when human males seem to simply smell funny and fail at matching patterns and colors on a daily basis?

Click, click, click…I am so glad that I am not wearing heals, how on earth would I even wear heals with this brace on—the hallway in Wilson is relatively quiet. I opened the door; no one is in class yet, what the heck? ‘Oh yeah I woke up early.’ Sitting down contemplating leaving; my tummy never sets right on days of presentations, ‘Erin.’ People start trickling in. I start to get even more nervous. ‘Why,why, why! Why do I have to present my paper? I dislike others reading what I write….I don’t feel so good. I can do this, everyone in here has to do the same thing—dumbass. And we all know each other—relatively well…academically. I mean they read my blogs…What if they don’t read my blogs, what if they simply laugh at my blogs!’ I am caught up in a moment of self-absorption, ‘who cares, you are you and they aren’t. Breath!’ I sometimes have to talk myself out of an internal panic attack, especially on days of presentations. And in the moment I realize—the association of the piece of work with a face is what I am terrified of. I would rather remain faceless and present my work, than have people know my face and apply it to my work.

Everyone’s here, ready with papers in hands and a look of tiresome terror on their faces. Some not as much as other, especially none like what I image mine to look like right now. Erin pats me on the back—I bet it would be the butt if I was standing—she always has something to say to make me feel like I will break out in hives but look good while doing it.

***

I am back in my seat. “What just happened?” I look over at Erin, she smiles, “You killed it,” sending up a victory fist pump in honor of my speech that I had deliberately blacked out for. I had the experience and I didn’t miss the meaning, I knew the meaning without remembering the experience—I had completed my most anxiety filled paper ever, and presented it, I have won, I have accomplished all that I thought six years prior I would never have finished. I realized then that the experience can be lost in the actually moment, but the meaning can still be understood. I knew standing up in front of class was going to be hard, but I knew that once I was done, I was done. I lived freely in the moment of my paper, so free that my mind and body were separated from one another, and I sat with Krishna above it all.

Even though capstone is done, I still have Emergent Lit to think about. Ugh one paper down, and another right behind it. At least this one didn’t have all the hype building up the entire semester, or rather my entire college career, and possibly even before that. Emergent lit—please—I got this in the bag. I make my way up to the computer lab by the Native American Studies department. I really enjoy the time that I get to spend there, especially because I have become involved in Native Studies and formed bonds with many of the professors, who walked by often times stopping to say hello. Today was no different. “LISA! Missed you in class yesterday, too good for food are you?” Ah I would know that voice in a hundred years from now, Dr. Lawrence Gross, my professor for Native Food Systems this semester. “Yeah, I figured if I’m on a diet I should probably skip my one class that relates to food.” His oversized glassed reminded me of my father, but his small stature and extremely small waste line reminded me of the lowbrow male adolescent character McLovin from the movie Superbad. “Oh, ok. Well you make sure that whatever it is you’re typing, it’s better than that junk you turn in to me! HAHA, oh I’m only kidding. Keep up the good work.” And with that he was gone.

Sitting for a moment—Gross is the professor that singled me out and made an example of me and my ‘bad writing’ in class earlier this semester. He also, in the same week, picked the same paper (revised) to be an example paper for future classes on how to write the best paper possible. Huh? What a silly little man. I am only the second person out of all his students to ever have a paper taken to be used as an example of what good writing should look and sound like. Even with all his teasing, he sure does know how to bring the story out of me. I guess it is part of his culture, the Anishinabe people were and still are great storytellers—I guess he really does know what he is talking about, even if he makes some of the worst jokes I have ever heard.

The moments that I have spent thinking of what to put in my paper, have come and gone, and memories fade in and out like the tide—or the sequences of epiphanies in To the Lighthouse that Kevin poetically discovered—but what am I doing, thinking about past times, and the future that hasn’t happened yet? Haven’t I learned anything from my capstone paper? Eliot even says right in Dry Salvages “And the time of death is every moment” (42). I am wasting time worrying about events that have and haven’t happened, rather than seeing the moment of now. I was in the moment earlier today, this morning, the walk to school, brushing my teeth, and I saw the little meaning of each moment, slowing me down shutting me off from the noise of common problems. Death is right around the corner…but honestly a brick falling off Montana Hall and striking me on the way down was highly unlikely, and plus I’m a small target, my epithet for heaven’s sake is Little Legs! Death might be happening around the world, but at this moment I need to focus on what is present.

I walk to Emergent Lit, passing the offices of sociology professors—‘what is sociology anyway?—the study of being social? Maybe I need to think about picking up a book or two on the subject because recently I’ve been antisocial, and self-absorbed.’ Eh, I enjoy times alone, seclusion thinking of my thoughts, and recognizing the moment in the moment, when divinity seems to be embracing my fragile frame and weak mind. At the top of the stairs my mind shifts from sociology to kinesiology—my knee—‘will I have to get surgery yet? Shit that would ruin the summer for sure.’ I start down the stairs; at least these ones have a railing to grab onto. Getting old is going to be a stiff journey for me, but at least I enjoyed the activity I was involved in, the multiple times I injured myself.

In Emergent Lit the corner cradles me. I sit at the ends of rows or up against walls because I tick—internally—when people surround me. My dad has the same problem, looking at my notes I realize that my dad takes notes in the same fashion—chaotic and yet perfectly in unison with our thoughts. In that moment the realization that I was not becoming my mother, but in fact I was becoming my father freaked me out a little. ‘I don’t wanna be an old man with bad knees and fat fingers.’ But yet again, thinking of the future is a waste because it is not guaranteed. There is hope after all that I won’t be my father—boy is just not a good look for me.

Looking up, I see Rio working the computers. I realize how little I know about technology, and how I enjoy that fact. If you’re good at something you’re good at it. I’m good at sports, but at the moment there is a leash holding me back, so I am not good at sports, I was but no longer am in the moment. But in the moment that I am not good, Rio is good with computers, making his present time known—to those that are paying attention. The moment was grand, even if technology is taking us away from divine moments, it still can bring a sense of peace to some people. I instantly felt less hatred towards the new ‘i-world.’ And just as the moment had appeared, it vanished and I was back looking at my notes reminded of how much more entertaining drawing was than surfing the Internet. In the moment—isn’ diversity great, the fact that one can love the exact opposite of what another loves? I realize diversity brings moments of clarity to the individual.

After class the students all go their separate ways. It was the end of my school day but the middle of another day filled with reality. I walk past Montana Hall, ‘hah, what if a brick fell right now and hit me on the head? Did I recognize the divine in the world at that moment? Hummm maybe I’ll get a sandwich at Specs…’

The day is still gloomy out, but it is warmer than winter. Summer like, “the future is a faded song, a Royal Rose or a lavender spray” just around the corner but not in the now moment (Eliot 40). I have got to stop thinking of the future, wishing my life away as older generations say to us young-ins. Focus on the present, for it is both past and future experiences, as we have been learning this entire semester, or maybe it is just past experiences with hope for future ones. Eliot would be hurt by my inability to focus on what is now. I need to give him credit, and just do it!

I can feel each rain drop wetting my face, and my hood magnifies the sound of them hitting my coat. Cars pass by with travelers, heading towards different destinations, but that doesn’t matter, what matters are the raindrops. Each one contributing to my summer fun—there I go again focusing on the future—each one contributing to “the unheard music” and keeping me “distracted from distraction by distraction” (14, 17). Each raindrop that hits is a little epiphany of that day that has been missed. And in that moment I too am an epiphany, I am a raindrop falling towards the ground; hurling myself at some un-expecting bystander trying to be noticed as an individual moment in time.

“OH!” I forgot my flash drive in Wilson! The moment is lost, and I transform back into my human form, leaving the little epiphanies to fall unheard all around me. And as I trek back to Wilson, I forget.

SMACK—unfortunately a brick become loose, and like Dr. Sexson suggested many times prior to this freak accident, I lost my life in a moment of silence to a violent brick falling off Montana Hall. With no major epiphany occurring in the moment right before my untimely death, I did get to feel the rain and notice each drop separately seconds before. Death is in every moment and as for my “lifetime burning in every moment,” well… my flame had been extinguished (31). Thank God I got my Capstone paper in, or else my story would never be told and immortality would never have been reached. I guess those extra ten minutes really didn’t matter after all.

Thesis

ugh, this is the most harshest reality of all--capstone paper due in something like 44 hours...there is no moment of ooo or ah, there is only time to type.

my thesis should sound something like this (thanks Tai!):

The divine path snakes though silent moments of reflection which are silenced themselves by the distracting chaos of everyday banality.

oh boy, this is fun.

~L.

The Rough-IST of paper ideas

Silence, it's all around us, but we fail to listen and fail to see the epiphany of everyday life. I want to think about this and form my paper around the Epiphanies of Everyday Life, the epiphany of silence and simplicity, solitude, spirituality, and soul. All these are significant parts of our lives that we talk over or push aside for more distracting distractions.

When people die or there has been a major catastrophe we take a moment of silence to remember those in need or those who have passed on to the world above the moon. These moments of remembrance and silence seem to fall into our class discussions of remembrance. And now our silence is trumped by the sounds of instant gratification. We as a society have silenced our silence with commodities, and the desire to purchase, consume, and collect material objects that "make us happy." Many times we forget to observe, removing ourselves from the world of chaos and noise. We need to remove ourselves to a world of silence and remembrance.

I am still figuring this out, but I think that meditation is a good place to start for me to dream up my papers meaning. What is the point of this paper?--to show myself that I too am caught up in a world of noise and the silence is almost deafening to listen to because it hasn't been heard in an obscene amount of years?--or is this paper going to connect my life of chaos to the life of divine being? I want to make sense, and I want to write something meaningful, but fear that if I try to hard I will fail. The desire to succeed is overwhelming and causing me to have anxiety of the author for sure, and to "just do it" seems like a daunting task, and that I might have stuck my foot in my mouth when I preached it in my blog.

In order to succeed and have the divine being appear to me I must sacrifice not just my life but my soul and my knowledge...but does that mean I must forget in order to remember? Or does it mean that I must sacrifice my fun in order to gain more knowledge about the divine?

I will figure this out, just as Arjuna has his moment of distraction, as well as Hamlet, Toad, Mole, and even Ratty. Our ability to distract ourselves from the task at had will be my biggest hurdle to get over.

~L.

The Bhahahahagavad-Gita

I completely agree with the self-help thought that Tai explained in his blog. It got to be a bit preachy and yeah it's about religious experiences and giving ourselves to a higher power thought lessons of everyday life. So as I read and I thought of my own life and all the "wrongs" that I've done and how I too am on the battle field trying to fight the ever pressing reality of the world. And so I read and I read and I read and finally two or so hours later I closed the book, and instead of feeling at peace and ready to fight on for my divine right to live I got pissed. And I don't mean just upset, I mean yelling and screaming at the top of my lungs at someone significant in my life who's name I will keep a secret. I lost control, I was no longer peaceful, I was no longer listening and devoting myself to the higher self, I was wrapped up in the smaller self, the ME. The clam soothing words of Krishna were like a faded song, a half forgotten memory, or a moment in time of past and future experiences that could not come together to make the present.

So why would I have this reaction? I have no idea. Perhaps Ronald and I are on the same page and instead of me having the realization during my reading, I had the realization after and instead of throwing my book I threw my words. And yet I see this book's cover and I am not angry, I am not afraid, I am not worried that I might have the same reaction if I open it up again. I think, hummm there are lessons to be learned, and thoughts to be thought. I need to open it up again and discover myself between the lines and in the essence of the book. Or maybe I actually need to not look for MYself and I simply need to let 'my' go and find just 'self' in the lines and in the ora surrounding these sacred words.

~L.

Dillard's Wack

Honestly Annie Dillard seems like a weirdo from this essay. Her detail was almost too much, and hard to believe seeing as how she wrote it years after the fact. And who the heck would scream and be terrified of an eclipse? I can remember back to elementary school when I got to see an eclipse, though it wasn't a full one but pretty darn close, it was so amazingly beautiful that even at such a young age I knew how special it was for me to be experiencing this phenomenon. My dad and I sat outside by our bird Fred's cage with our makeshift eclipse glasses, the world around us changed from a lush green to dark orange almost as if we were driving through a fire where the smoke covers the sun making everything hazy gray orange. Nothing to scream about, yes awesome, but terrifying not even close. Then again it might be because of my love and obsession of the sky and everything entrapped in the vast unknown such as: birds, stars, moons, planets and yes the most important of them all aliens. The eclipse that I was present for brought me closer to the extra-terrestrial lives that I know are out there. Haha ok enough of that.

Dillards piece was just a little to much nonsense. She seems to skip over the entertainment factor for me, and falls under a more negative tone. This essay seemed to be more about the fear of dying than anything else. Her obsession with dying took over and distracted me from the eclipse. When the story finally started to pick up was when she heard the college guy talking about how the ring that she was so afraid of looked like a "life-saver." How ironic that she thought it symbolized death, and yet this kid who saw the same eclipse had a completely different outlook and saw life in it! And not just life, but a life-Saver!

And though this essay is not just about the eclipse and seems to be more about the experience of remembrance, she--for my own taste--took it overboard. I enjoy memory and remembering experiences that were magical and made an impression on me, but there is a line, and she crossed it.

~L.

Tintern

How wonderful a morning we are having on this day the first of March, a new chapter in our lives, and a beautiful spring like day to start it off right! (how cheesy)

At first Tintern Abbey was nothing special to me, it did not make me cry, did not make me question life, did not provide any epiphanic moments to remember, it simply was an assignment. And yes, this poem in some ways is still just that, an assignment, but I did find one part that took hold of me, and made a connection. 

"For I have learned

To Look on nature, not as in the hour

Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes

The still, sad music of humanity,

Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power

To chasten and subdue."

The lines above reminded me of summer on my grandpa's ranch and the sounds we would hear, and the sounds that we left behind in LA, and the joke my dad would always say, "Shhh! You hear that?" and we would all be really quiet, listening closely, and then he'd yell "IT'S NOTHING!" and everyone would jump and then not laugh at my dad's uninspiring Dad Joke.

But what we heard on the ranch might have sounded like nothing to the untrained ear, as in youth such as I was back in the day. But  now I am much more wise, and have somewhat of an understanding with the fact that nature does speak to us. In my Native American Studies classes, nature is a big theme, not the connection to nature, but instead the theme for nature lies more with the understanding of it's power and the natural rotation of life and life's necessities. The changing of seasons, the calm before the storm, life after a fire, harvesting times, and animal migrations all have the power to speak to us and show us how to utilize what we are given in nature. But at last we hear and are apart of the "sad music of humanity" singing along with our industrious and consumer ways, paying little attention to the natural changing of the seasons, and focusing more on the fashion lines for the in season, or the sport of the season. And perhaps in Bozeman it is not as prominent, this lose of nature, since we are a community of outside activity lovers, and look forward to every day we can spend in nature, but in places such as LA, or New York, or Las Vegas people are spending more time consuming than living. 

Wordsworth knew the importance in stepping outside of the everyday, and focusing on the now, the moment in which he sat on the River Wye, just above Tintern Abbey, and wrote of his experiences with the natural and man made world. He was writing a poem out of change and out of simplicity and chaos. Nature is the greatest creation of all, it creates and destroys, like Eliot suggests about the river in Dry Salvages, 

"...the brown god is almost forgotten

By the dwellers in cities--ever, however, implacable,

Keeping his seasons and rages, destroyer, reminder

Of what men choose to forget."

We must never forget, how daunting of a task. 

~L.

Hopkins and the Kingfisher

All right so I think my world is coming together--a little, like this blog. Lately when I've been reading, and simply paying attention to life, there is something to do with a bird, or specifically a kingfisher. Not all my encounters with birds in the recent past has been about the kingfisher, but after reading The 4 Quartetes I find myself surrounded by kingfishers. And then like a little epiphany I opened my British Literature II anthology to Gerard Manley Hopkins section, and right there third poem in, is his poem, that was meant to find me, "As Kingfishers Catch Fire" I mean really, is this happening to me? I read the poem and am not sure exactly what it's about. In the first stanza he mentions objects, colors, feelings, and then in the second stanza it changes to a religious tone, with refrences to humans. His inner poet is mixing with his inner priest...

"As Kingfishers Catch Fire"

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came.

Í say móre: the just man justices;
Kéeps gráce: thát keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is—
Chríst—for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.

~L.

A Moment with Birds

Life has not been experiencd until you are on your surfboard out beyond the break, floating amilessly in the open ocean through a school of macrals. Sea birds all around you, flying above you, dropping poo around and even sometimes on you. One bird dives and re-emerges from below the surface of the water with a shinny fish it its mouth, then the next one dives and re-emerges with another fish, it keeps happening, all around you. You can hear the air rushing past the birds feathers as it dive bombs from its place high above. Every time one emerges the next one falls, and every time that one emerges a sprinkling of the ocean's salt water christens your already drenched body with little specks of glistening wonder rolling off of one species and hitting you directly, at times passing life andthe meaning and reason for life on to you. The birds are all around you, diving and catching, splashing and singing to one another out of pure joy. And as the birds fly away with a fish in their mouth sprinkling salt water on to you, you realize that there is no way to catch these creatures, they are up in the air, high above you, closer to the divine than we can ever be. Looking down on us constantly, seeing our world and creating epiphanies for us. Birds are the connection to heaven, the connection to epiphaphanic moments, the connection to what life is--the freedom to sing out of joy and feel from experience. And after you have drifted with the school and been part of the action, maybe even brushed by a wing, the birds leave you, at last to be with yourself, your thoughts, your imagination, and simply to swim with the fish.

~L.

Just Do It.

Lately I've been feeling overwhelmed with thoughts. My mind races, and I can't seem to catch up. It's as if my legs were moving much faster than my body, and i am running at a backwards slant, almost falling over, almost losing control, almost wanting to give up and just lie back and enjoy ignorance. So I had a talk with Dr. Sexson to find out how to get more out of my blogging experience and out of the class in general.

We cannot look for the connections, because like that one perfect man we all want, they never revel themselves until we aren't looking, and then we miss them and end up right where we are now, confused and calloused. I sit here now blogging and am still confused as to how to make those connections. Adam, in his blog, talks about senioritis and the overwhelming desire to do nothing, I might have this problem sometimes, but right now it feels as if I have the desire to do all, and yet can't focus myself to make anything happen. It's the inversion of senioritis. I want so much and cannot preform. I think they call this Performance Anxiety.

Eliot discusses the idea that we do not learn from experience, and that every moment is a new beginning, but to get to that beginning we must come to an end, and in order to come to an end we must learn something. So how can we know nothing now, and yet have known something just seconds before this new beginning we call the present? AHHH I'm lost in my mind, my own personal labyrinth of thought of possessions, of anxiety, and of humor. I am lost in the translation that my mind makes from the information I am told to the information that I retain, or want to retain.

I want that epiphany so bad, I can't even taste it. But in order to taste we must not taste? In order to see we must be blind, in order to understand we must be confused. This mind gripping thought of binary oppositions is almost obsessive. Oh no! Am I too becoming obsessed with something that will take me into the dark? Have I found what I was never looking for and yet looking for the entire time? I guess all I can know is that we must push on, through the muck, the rain, the blizzards, the blazing heat, and the thicket of the forest and "Just Do It!"

Let myself become entrapped with the unknown. Let myself wrap my brain around the thought of "no experience necessary." After all, when we are looking for jobs, how many times do we wish the job did not require experience, it makes obtaining that position much easier, for we do not need to rely on our past to help create a better future, in order for the present to work now. We simply have to be who we are now, not a second ago, not 5 years ago, because those people are not the same people we are right now.

~L.

The Train

Dry Salvages: Music Spheres and Epiphanies

Towards the ending of Dry Salvages the hint towards a musical epiphany jumps out of the page with silence: 

"For most of us, there is only the unattended

Moment, the moment in and out of time,

The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight,

The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning

Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply

That it is not heard at all, but you are the music

While the music lasts."  (lines 206-212)

We've all heard the phrase "the music is inside you" and "feel the music."  Music does not have to have sound to it, you can feel it in your body, making emotions change, taking us to places far away, places we've never been, places that we have been, even places that do not exist. Music is around us daily, because we make music inside ourself. Humans are made up of rhythm. We walk to a certain pace, and talk fluidly (or at least try) with others. Listen to yourself one day, and the sounds around, the sounds of literally, Life. The cars, the train, doors, turning pages, footsteps, the click of the keyboard, the tick of the clock, or even a few carrots and a stick or two of celery. It all could be and has many times been turned into music.  

If we look further on down in the poem, it says:

Here the impossible union

Of spheres of existence is actual,

Here the past and future (lines 216-218)

When I read it i see sphere's floating around us, like the echos from Burnt Norton that Kevin mentioned in class and on his blog. They are there waiting for us to find, to jump into the bubble of inner music, the music that we are, "while the music lasts." It reminds me of this Rhapsody commercial

Music is epiphany, it is divine, it is spiritual, and connects people across the world.  Music has the power to heal, and to cause a reaction. Animals of all different species use their own music to communicate. Birds are the most obvious singers of the animal kingdom, singing the morning into existence, and singing the world to sleep, singing to warn each other, and singing to attract mates, sometimes it seems like birds sing just for the pure enjoyment of it. Then there are the whales underneath the sea, singing songs to others just like birds do. Frogs, and toads calling to one another in a rhythmic pattern, music is all around us. The first form of music was not from an instrument, no it was from deep within our soul, our voices made the first music. Rocks our percussion, a reed our flute... we simply need to listen just a little closer to what we actually are hearing...

Music runs through our veins, standing on top a mountain, looking over the world a peaceful or perhaps triumphant song echos in our mind from times past, and possibly times in the future. 

I see Music as a great connector of all 4 Quartets. And I hear my own tune as well.

~L. 

Halcyone Days and the Kingfisher

Alcyone, the Kingfisher

"Alcyone or Halcyon, daughter of Aeolus, wed King Ceyx of Trachis. It was a blissful marriage, as the two were deeply in love. In fact, they were so happy together that they jokingly addressed each other as Hera and Zeus. Of course, this infuriated the mighty gods, who decided to punish the disrespectful mortals.

A short while later, Ceyx needed to consult the oracle of Apollo, at Delphi, regarding various state matters. He debated about travelling by land, but decided against it, as the roads were infested with brigands at the time. So, he chose to sail.

He promptly announced his decision to Alcyone, who, being afraid of the sea, pleaded with him to reconsider. But Ceyx wouldn't hear a word. Knowing she couldn't dissuade her husband Alcyone asked him to take her along. However, he summarily dismissed the idea. The poor maiden, wept and wept, but Ceyx was determined, so she finally yielded and let him go alone.

Her premonition proved to be true. Not far from the coast, Ceyx's vessel encountered an unprecedented storm and, despite the sailors' frantic efforts, it perished. Ceyx struggled against the fierce waves for hours, until he tired. Sensing he was about to drown, he prayed to Poseidon, asking the sea god to bear his body into his wife's arms.

Meanwhile, Alcyone, unaware of her husband's fate, prayed to Hera for his safety. The powerful goddess pitied her and dispatched Iris to Hypnos, ordering him to inform Alcyone of Ceyx's death. So, Hypnos instructed Morpheus to appear in Alcyone's sleep and relate to her the day's tragic events. That same night, Morpheus, disguised as Ceyx, stood naked before the beautiful girl and told her what had transpired.

Bewildered, Alcyone got out of bed and ran frenziedly to the coast, where she found her revered husband's body among the shipwreck's debris. In distress, she tore her cheeks, hair and garments, and leaped into the dark, frothy waves.

But, before she hit the surf, the gods, admiring her love, devotion and courage, turned her into a beautiful seabird, the Kingfisher. And, as an added bonus, they brought Ceyx to life again, transformed into the same bird.

However, believe it or not, the couple's worries weren't over yet. For Zeus decreed that Alcyone, unlike most birds, would lay her eggs during the winter. But, as Alceone's nest was near the shore, not far from where she had discovered Ceyx's remains, the huge, wintry waves would continuously sweep her eggs and hatchlings into the sea.

Poor Alcyone cried her heart out, and pleaded the father of all mortals and gods for forgiveness. Zeus finally felt sorry for her and gave her 14 days of good weather, in the midst of winter, to incubate her eggs. To date, this spell of fair winter weather is widely known as the "halcyon days," after good old Alcyone or Halcyon. And the Greek people still pay tribute to her sacrifice, by naming the Kingfisher, Alcedo atthis, Alcyone."

This is the link to where I got the above story. Who knew the kingfisher was so mystical?
http://www.e-pelion.com/myths_alcyone.html

Horses Can Wear Diamonds Too

So my diamond is completely different than everyone else. I found the short story about the horse Johnny to be reminiscent of Groundhog Day. The horse is stuck in the mill, walking round and round hopeless, not knowing anything more than that of a circle. Finally he is brought out into the world, but what happens? He see King Billy's statue and does the only thing he knows how to do, make circles. The repetition of everyday life, and everyday events monotonously taking over this pour pathetic horse Johnny, it's poetic, and yet tragic. Perhaps Joyce put this in his story for nothing but to move his story along, and have one entertaining part for the readers. Or perhaps it is a reference to the title The Dead. And pointing out that we are dead even in life, because of the everyday routine. We don't think we just do. I feel for Johnny, more than any other depressing character in the story. I feel sorry because, it was not his choice to be turned into a circle. He had no understanding of squares, triangles, trapezoids, and even squiggles. He simply lived his life one day at a time, one circle after the other, falling deeper into living death.

~L.