Romanticism of Death

I had a friend once say there is “something romantic about Death”, yet very wisely understood that it is only one's own death that is romantisied -for the remainer of us the bitterness of the one's death is cruel. My parents have long romanticised over their own death, as many people do who come to that stage in their aged life. To the uncomfort of his children, dad has for years been discussing the inheritance that each child will receive. Ironically, I realize that the paintings I have given my parents will one day return to me. Although mom doesn't often bring up the subject, she too has recently broached her own burial. My parents long ago purchased burial plots in St. George, the place that I identify as home, but now mom has recently expressed the desire to be buried in a small farming town with the roots of my family, in Goshen Idaho. I realize that I do not have many years remaining with my parent and what little is left must be cherished. 

Today I have been studying human development across the life span. As I read, I cannot help but to romantise upon my own death -when and how it might take place, and what will come of my memory. In my romaticised view, in the day that I die, I would like the vestage left behind to be burned to ashes. I would not have those ashes reside in an urn on a dusty book shelf, but rather mixed into the earth of my secrete garden with a young seedling planted above. As the colourful maple's roots penatrate deep into the soil, the reminants of my existance will give life and beauty to the world around. 

Image taken from lightcapturephoto.com

Caring Hand

A random thought that I had during lecture today.

Doctors of old were part of the family -they came when called upon, often being able to do very little but offer sympathy, and wait while their patient died under their caring hand. The physician was valued. Today medicine is industrialized. By yesterday's standards doctors perform miraculous on a daily basis. Despite their greater ability in healing, physicians are valued less than they once were. Is it because the physicians of today no longer heal the soul in treating the aliments of the flesh? or is there something else at work?

Witty Remarks

I have a English literature friend who I have occasion to banter with (it is the same friend whom I took under my wing to teach her the finer aspects of "The Anti-Secret"). She recently posted this quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson on her facebook page. "Society is a joint-stock company, in which the members agree, for the better securing of his bread to each shareholder, to surrender the liberty and culture of the eater. The virtue in most request is conformity. Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and customs." My witty remark to her was "And what of the tragedy of the commons?" It is, of course, the dichotomy of the human spirit -doing what is better for humanity versus doing what is best for me. Both exist to some degree in every person -the balance of which will determine the degree of success of that member within the whole. We are a social species. You cannot remove a man from society and expect him to be successful anymore than you can remove a bee from the hive and expect it to survive. Self reliance is a fanciful escape from being a member of the hive. Yet we are not bees. We are born within the society but we are beautiful individuals, with individual dreams and fears. We live our own lives. We give to society, we take from it as well, but in the end we determine our own fate. As such our society cannot survive under a purely communist creed. Self reliance, therefore, is not a taboo, but a virtue -when well balanced.

To my wit she replied, "I always think of self-reliance in terms of thought. Finding your own path in terms of thoughts and beliefs is essential to strengthening the commons. Everyone can't be a shepherd, but the world currently has far too many sheep." -Melanie Dawn Watson

Very well said.

Evolutionary Understanding

"Nothing in Biology Makes Sense Except in the Light of Evolution" -Theodosius Dobzhansky. In 1973, Dobzhansky published the above titled essay in American Biology Teacher (vol. 35 pgs. 125-129).

http://biologie-lernprogramme.de/daten/programme/js/homologer/daten/lit/Dobzhansky.pdf

Though many evolutionary biologist are at odds with creationists Dobzhansky's essay was in fact an argument for the coexistence of the two schools of thought. Dobzhansky published his essay in hopes that the creationists who so vehemently fought evolutionary biology would gain understanding and allow evolution to be taught in school. He was a proponent of theistic evolution, which simply states that "there is a God, that God is the creator of the material universe and (by consequence) all life within, and that biological evolution is simply a natural process within that creation. Evolution, according to this view, is simply a tool that God employed to develop human life." -Wikipedia, Theistic Evolution. I was first made aware of this quote by a professor of mine who was teaching Evolutionary Biology. On the first day of class the professor emphasized that the course we were to embark upon did not have to be in conflict with religious beliefs. He illustrated his point by stating that BYU, a private religious school, employs more evolutionary biologist than the University of Utah, the so called heathen school.

What we were to learn would give meaning to the workings of life in ways that no other science could do. Evolution is no longer considered a theory, but has been ratified by every science as law, which is no small feat, as scientists rarely graduate theory into scientific law. There are many details regarding the workings of evolution that remain to be elucidated, there are many theories regarding the fine details of how to draw the phylogenetic tree of life, yet evolution itself is unquestionable. That year I took many classes wherein evolution provided the foundation of understanding. Dobzhansky was right, evolution has become my greatest and most valuable tool in understanding the mechanisms at work in every aspect of life. My understanding of the facets of life are so much more profound for my education in evolution. Through the light of evolution I have gained an understanding of why men are obsessed with breasts and butts, of why we go to war, of why the differences between the sexes exist. I understand the origins of life, and why they began. I understand how we developed state societies, politics, and the movements of economics. Even the abstractness of art begins to reveal itself through the understanding of evolution.

The understanding of these finites of life have not been directly taught to me, but I've deduced them using evolutionary theory. Human behavior and, by consequence, the laws of society are dictated by evolutionary principals. It is with this foundation that I make a comment on a bumper sticker that I saw some years ago as I was running to class. The sticker stated that "No one is born a bigot". But the fact is quite the opposite. Everyone is born a bigot. I will not elaborate extensively on the logic behind this truth, but I will simply state that it is a result of inclusive fitness. The simple fact that we are, by our nature, inclined to favor our own while oppressing those who are not, does not give us free licenser to the prejudices that have plagued society through the generations. Indeed, it is through better understanding of our inherent nature that we are able to best combat the evils of society. Because I am a man, and born with a strong sex drive, does not mean that I am at the mercies of my hormones. My parents and teachers did very well at instilling morality into my character. As we celebrate the life of Martin Luther King Jr. today, and his life work of equal rights, let's not forget that we have the power to rise above our instincts, but do not turn a blind eye to what those instincts are, because it is through understanding them that we are best able to rise above them. We have come along way in the promotion of equal rights, but we yet have a long way to go before Martin Luther's dream is realized.

Preface

I present to you a page out of my Journal (albeit with editing), dated January 2005. The title of the entry is Preface, being the first entry of "Book One of the Volume of My Life".

"For some reason, unknown to myself, I have a fascination with books. Particularly books with blank pages. One might thumb through such a books and gaze upon its empty pages and see nothing, think nothing, nor feel anything. I, on the other hand, will pick up a book that is void of markings, as if it were a precious treasure in my hand. I have purchased many of these beautiful books with no particular purpose to its end. Contained within the empty pages I envision a potential of what those pages might hold: My future, my thoughts, my ideas, my poetry, my life. It is my journal, my diary, my mind."

Convictions

Harry Potter 7 pt. 2 was finally released to Red Box this week. Admittedly, I've never liked the movies for how much they are lacking from the books, or for the elements that change between the pages of the novel and the projection on the big screen, yet there was a line in the movie today that I don't believe was penned in the book, but I quite liked it. Remus Lupin in the final battle says, "It is the quality of ones convictions that determines success, not the number of followers."

Colours

The way our lives are illuminated can drastically change the colours through which we see. In the shadows of dreary winter life is far more cold and blue than the bright warmth of a summer morning. The same life under a different light and season is not truly the same life at all. Our intellect has the ability to imagine what it will, rather than what is. As we consume with all of our senses the euphoric nectar and splendor of the lilly we cannot but help to visualize the purity of the Madonna in its white petals, yet those petals in a different light are not white but a dingy grey. Colour is a property of light, and as such the colours of the world are constantly changing with the changing of the seasons and the passing of the day. What we truly see, therefore, may not be what is perceived, rather it is relative to the illumination by which it receives. The colours that I see are not the same colours that you behold, for I see them through a different light and life than can be illuminated through your eyes. My colours are unique, as are yours, but they are ever changing...

Keats

In reading John Keats I one day came across this quote from his love letters to Fanny Brawne,  "I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death.  O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute."  The quote puzzled me.  That he brooded over his Love was easy enough to understand, but that he brooded over the hour of his death and looked forward to it with fondness, that was thought provoking.  I believe that I understand Keats now.  Keats did not live a life of ease and pleasure.  He saw much sorrow, and lived with more.  To be separated from his Love, both in distance and circumstance of life, was his greatest hell.  He was tormented from day to day, yea, even breath to breath, and though he may temporarily take pleasure in a fine cup of tea or a beautiful sunset, he was yet tormented in those pleasures, in that he took them alone, without his Love.  For Keats, the hour of his death was also the hour of his soul's delivery from torment and hell.  Yes, I do understand Keats...

Barbaric

In response to an 'article' that I read yesternight, I'd like to relate a passage from my journal, titled "Running Off Without Your Head" from February 2005 (Yes, I title my journal entries).

"Our Society today has become quite accustom to the modern conveniences that has been yielded to us from the generations of toil before us.  For this reason I enjoy going to the mountains and slaying my own food, cleaning it, and cooking it over the open fire.  It reminds me of who we are and where we come from as a species, and truly what we have now.  (Though I'm sure my children will question how I grew up with such primitive technology).  It may seem barbaric to those who have never killed and prepared meat, but let them enjoy their fine plate of veal or their filet mignon at their fancy restaurant.  Let them enjoy their prepackaged meat, their processed food from the market.  Let them enjoy the convinces of society with little thought of where and how those convinces are brought to pass.  We go to the market, we buy cooked food and all that we must do is consume it.  Our common man has forgotten how to obtain and prepare food in its most basic form, and he is quickly forgetting how to even cook it, for all has been done for him.  I may be seen as the barbarian when I am hunting, but as I look down the sights of that rifle or bow, I give thanks to God, for his providence in my life.  And before I release that arrow or pull that trigger I view that animal in its glory and I give respect to it.  It is hallowed in my mind.  I was taught this when I was young, by whom I know not.  Now let me ask how many, who call me barbaric, look upon their plate in the walls of their fine dinning restaurant and reverence the animal that yields its life that they may eat.  Now who is the barbarian?  

Upon the farm there are acts that accomplished that many see as wild and barbaric.  I have memories of dad slaughtering chickens, that could be disturbing to the modern man.  What is done?  The chicken is caught (by no means an easy task), its head is placed across a log, and the ax falls.  Thereafter the nerves in the chicken continue to fire, and it runs around briefly without a head, and then falls to the ground.  Then the feathers will be plucked, it will be cleaned, then butchered, seasoned, and sold.  To live by the land, whether that be planting and harvesting, or raising and slaughtering, commands a respect to that land that all farmers posses.  They understand that they  are at the mercy of the land.  It is not barbaric to live and joy in life, but it is barbaric to live and joy in life without the understanding, respect, and thanks to God and the land for the life we have been given."  

What is more barbaric?  To kill and butcher an animal with reverence, or to buy and cook prepackaged meat with little regard that that was once a life?

Disney

As a child I had full rights to watch a Disney movie repetitively, non-stop, night and day, to the insanity of my mother (though I don't think that I ever was such a child, I rather played outside).  Now, as an adult, it would appear that the liberty to enjoy a good animated movie is no longer mine.  The ticket to Pixar's latest blockbuster hit really belongs to the children, and my ticket in is the child.  Can I reasonably view Cinderella with out my little Gracie, or can I lounge around on a Sunday afternoon watching Car's without my little James?  Yet I have no ticket, I have no child.  Those adults who are wise are able to enjoy their second childhood as fully as their first, as they discover the world with their children.  Sometime when I walk the halls of the children's hospital, overhearing the latest children's movies, I'm tempted to secretly return to my childhood, and rent Disney's latest and watch it all by myself.

Etiquette

Why should I become so frustrated with the apparent lack of etiquette in our society today.  After all, is it not the societal norms that determine what is couth and what is not?  Is it that society has become uncultured, or rather that the culture has changed?  I cling to the mannerisms of a past generation while living amongst a brash people, trying not to let the lack of pleasantries dishearten me, yet it does.  If I had children I would teach them manners beyond the simple sayings of please and thank you, which seems to be the extent of etiquette taught in the homes of today, thought even these small tokens are a feat to instill into the children of today.  Dinning etiquette is all but lost, dancing etiquette has passed into the void, and even the most basic etiquette of conversation is beyond us.  I fear that with the passing of the generations that such things will soon become extinct.

Spring

Every culture has a different definition of when the beginning and end of the season is.  Our current system is based off of the solar calendar, namely that each equinox or solicit is the first day of their respective season.  I do not believe that this is the best definition for the seasons.  Why should the longest day of the year be the first day of summer, when every day after that approaches fall and winter, and every day before it approaches summer.  According to my logic, each equinox and solicit should be the midpoint of that season, rather than the beginning.  Thus the summer solicit, the longest day of the year, would be the midpoint of summer, rather than the first day of summer.  The first day of a season would be the date exactly between each equinox and solicit.  These dates tend to be more inline with what we would call a season by the nature of the weather and world around us.

Other cultures define the season with less precision, and in many ways, their lesser degree of precision yields to them greater degree of accuracy.  For many, the first day of fall begins with the last harvest of the season, the first day of winter with the first snowfall.  By this, Mother Earth determines her seasons, rather than by the calenders and calculations of man.  There is a certain comfort in allowing nature to define herself and speak to us.  

For many weeks now I have noted that buds have been forming on the trees and that spring flowers have been breaking soil.  With today's warm sunny morning came the blooming of the first crocus, and with it the beginning of spring.  

Broken

Coming to terms with the fact that you are, in a way, 'broken' is an interesting developmental process.  People do not refer to transient conditions in a personal way.  They say, "I have the Flu" or "a cold".  But conditions of life that impart some kind of permanence to the body or soul must be internalized.  We do not say "the asthma is killing me", rather we say "my asthma is killing me", "my diabetes", "my scared heart".  They become part of who we are, but it is not an instantaneous process, rather it is a process that slowly proceeds from initial shock and denial, to self internalization and acceptance.  It becomes part of who we are, part of how we identify ourselves.

Being a deep thinker, I find myself watching this process take place inside myself, almost as if I were watching from the third person as I observe how it plays out in 'my' newly diagnosed ulcerative colitis.

I have a dream...

I have a dream that one day a woman may share equal rights and wage with her male counter part.

I have a dream that one day a man may marry who he will, irrespective of gender.

I have a dream that one day a Hispanic child may receive an equal chance to raise out of poverty, to equal education and health.

I have a dream that one day a young white male will have an equal chance to education, that he will not be discriminated against because he is not the minority, that merit will determine his fate rather than his colour or gender.

I have a dream that one day a mosque, church, synagogue, and temple may one day line the same street, and that all may worship freely without discrimination.

I have a dream that one day political affiliation will not determine the choice you must make, but that a man can decide for himself what is right and wrong.

I have a dream that the rights of freedom, health, and the pursuit of happiness will lay equally before all the children of Eden.

Christmas 2010

Christmas was quite... spent with my own thoughts as company.

Dreamer

Recently I was called a visionary by a supervisor of mine.  This was by no means was a derogatory comment, rather just a statement of the truth.  I wonder, have I always been a dreamer:  Was I such when I was a child on the playground?  Did I daydream my way through class as a senior in high school?  I don't know the answers to these questions, my teachers never made comments on the subject, but that does not mean that it was not so.  But for today I can speak, and today I know myself to be a weary dreamer.  I say weary because I tire of always living in a dream world that never becomes reality.  What I would give that my dreams and reality could be one...  Yet I will continue to dream, I don't think I could stop if I tried.  I will always be creating something out of nothing, a visionary dreaming a dream, after all, sometimes dreams are all we have...

Unstop

"If only there could be an invention, that bottled up a memory, like scent.  And it never faded, and it never got stale.  And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again." Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca