Black tea black

Dare to realize that everyone and everything you know and love will someday cease to exist and you will drive yourself insane. I want to tread that fine line, the slowly crumbling edge of the chasm. I want to face infinity with my feet dancing lightly about the present, while wind swirls the settled dust about me and tugs at my skirts. The dust cares not whether it clings to my skirts or drifts lazily over the edge. To dust I will go eventually, but the powerful, mysterious knowledge that I will jump someday is too terrible to contemplate in the full light of this day. When the day arrives that I understand, and death comes for me, I’ll welcome him in and offer him tea. I’ll offer milk and sugar, but he’ll drink his black tea black, as is his custom.

Good things CAN happen to the unemployed

Ahhh, it's nice to be free. :) Once again I’m out of school and finding time to write in this blog. However, due to the nature of my internship this summer, I will not post anything until after election day. (No, I’m not getting cozy with the FBI. I’m volunteering for Sen. Michael Lenett’s re-election campaign in the MD State House – go District 19!)

And if you’re interested in volunteering for Michael Lenett, we would LOVE to have you!!! You get a free t-shirt, our undying gratitude, and a better understanding of local politics. Plus it looks awesome on resumes. ;) Email or call me if you’re interested in helping him get re-elected!

You might say that no one cares about state politics, and no one reads this blog anyway, but there are spies everywhere, and loose lips sink ships. But even if I have zero readers, I still might occasionally think of something interesting to say over the summer that is not campaign-related. If that happens, I’ll get back to you. In the meantime, enjoy this beautiful weather and, as always, walk in beauty. :)

Well, at least I wasn't bored...

I am home for winter break. It's wonderful, and weird. I am surrounded by the people I love most in the whole world, but I repeatedly find myself wishing I was elsewhere. Besides this being a bizarre transitional half-child, half-adult phase of my life, I believe it also comes from having to compartmentalize my life into school v.s. home, with social squeezed somewhere in-between the two.

Happy Holidays, everyone! :)

I was going to leave it there, but I guess I'll follow Kurt and summarize my classes:

1. I'll start with the easiest: Ancient and Medieval philosophy. The professor is prone to long, rambling stories and argues with most of what you say, but this is just a cover for being an avuncular, caring guy who actually gives a shit about us as actual people, not just people who get to listen to him pontificate. He can be a little aggressive and inflexible at times, but mostly he's a stand-up guy. There was a lot of reading, but you only need to do half to survive (if you're me, anyway). Three papers that kept my writing skills up to snuff without being too stressful. As for the course material, it was more interesting than I expected for a discussion course on Pre-Socratics, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, plus a few Stoics and Cynics at the end. Plus our prof knows ancient Greek, so we got a Greek history/etymology lesson for free with every class! A-

2. Next up: "Critical Thinking" which is different each year depending on who teaches it. This year it was an introduction to formal logic. We learned truth tables, Boolean notation, proofs, fallacies, and other lovely things. I was surprised how fun the proofs turned out to be, lovely little puzzles, except for the 20+ step ones (which thankfully were on none of the tests). The best unit though was fallacies; now when someone slips up I can call 'em on it. And I do, especially in A&M, which I had immediately after C.T. :) B

3. Now on to the really hard stuff. Next hardest would have to be Bio Lab (105). Conceptually simple, but for someone like me whose most rigorous science class had been AP EnviroSci, formatting and procedural accuracy were difficult. Not to mention time consuming! I did enjoy playing with E.coli and Staph, and I was proud of our final project because it addressed relevant issues in agrotechnology. Agrotechnologists (er, food scientists?) have trouble keeping food fresh and edible while it's being shipped where it needs to go, especially when it's traveling long distances to impoverished communities. Polyphenol oxidase (PPO) is the enzyme responsible for certain foods going brown when exposed to oxygen. We found one study about PPO gene inhibitors, and another that showed elevated PPO activity in young peaches, so we figured that it'd be neat to test PPO activity for age (green, yellow, and brown bananas). Then maybe researchers would know when it would be best to introduce the inhibitor. B

4. The next two were a tie, but I'll start with Bio Lecture (105). This was absolutely fascinating, but an exhausting shitton of work. I came out of it okay, but there was an embarrassing decline in effort put in as time went by. Other issues came up outside of class that made this class extra difficult, and though I still feel that I could have done more, I learned a lot, so I won't complain. Did you know that without the electron transport chain in your mitochondira, you would explode? This is because it allows us to control how and when we release energy from food, instead of breaking all the electrical bonds at once and spontaneously combusting! B-

5. And last but not least, Modern Japanese Philosophy. It was taught by one of my very favorite professors. He speaks fluent Japanese and has spent lots of time in Japan, so again I got Japanese language/culture lessons for free. He's also very understanding, more than any professor I've ever met. He won't take shit from people, but he knows that the material is difficult to understand and he's very patient (imagine reading Kitaro Nishida's ideas in English translated from Japanese, and many of his ideas were taken from German philosophers in the first place.) We read three books total, by Nishida, Tetsuro Watsuji, and Keiji Nishitani, plus a few essays by Shin'ichi Hisamatsu. This was probably my favorite class, but also the most challenging. It involved a LOT of reading (close to 50 pages for some classes), three very challenging synthesis/reaction papers, plus a 10-15 page research paper, for a topic of our own choosing. For a while this class took the brunt of my mid-winter slump, but thanks to the generosity of my professor, I pulled through all-right. B+

Now enough about me... how bout y'all?

P.S. My MJP prof is gonna be a daddy soon! :)

As always, walk in beauty.

Om nom nom

This is what I think about meditation, mostly because Kurt asked. :)

I need to meditate in order to continue feeling sane. I would be unable to function without it just as much as if I stopped eating, drinking, sleeping, breathing, etc. It does not have to be a traditional breathing meditation, although I am trying to make that a regular habit. I do walking meditations frequently. When I’m playing sports (not that often, mostly swimming or ultimate frisbee) and I get in The Zone, I consider it a form of meditation. Writing also puts my mind in a meditative state.

There are very many ways to meditate, and anyone can do it. One of the most popular misconceptions about meditation is that only trained professionals or religious devotees can do it properly. Any time your entire consciousness is focused on a single object (say a candle’s flame) or action (either automatic, like breathing, or effortful, such as writing this entry) then you are meditating.

Another popular misconception is that if you have thoughts in your head, you’re doing it wrong. It is SO HARD to not think about anything at all. Have you ever tried it? Try it right now. Close your eyes, sit cross-legged or stay there at the computer, but try thinking about nothing for five minutes.

*AAAAA-UUUUUU-MMMMMM*

How did it go? It takes me way longer than five minutes to get my head to stop buzzing, usually about fifteen to twenty minutes of breathing meditation. Even when I’ve been practicing regularly, thoughts zoom through my head like balls in Tommy’s pinball machine, hitting levers and bells that create deafening noise in my head. The point is to focus on breathing naturally, and to acknowledge thoughts as they come but then let them go. It’s as if you are watching the sea flow in and out. You know there are shells and seaweed coming ashore, but focus on the surf itself and eventually you become detached from your thoughts. When you really get into it, they even disappear altogether.

Another important thing to remember is to not get angry with yourself if you have trouble empyting your mind of thoughts. If you get upset that you’re not meditating properly, the shells and seaweed will only come into view more sharply, and it will be impossible to meditate properly.

Breathing meditation is challenging for almost everyone, but if you do it regularly (at least once a day) and for at least half an hour at a time, it gets much easier to focus and you begin feeling the effects right away. The other less orthodox methods of meditation I mentioned above, except for walking meditation, may not work for everyone. (Walking meditation is similar to breathing meditation, only you focus on the feeling of your feet pushing down on the ground and the Earth pushing back on your feet.)

There are also many reasons to meditate. It is one of the most effective ways for me to deal with heavy, complex emotions. It keeps me in tune with my community, population, ecosystem, species, and biosphere (ashamed to say I had to look this up to get them in the right order). Most importantly, it helps me cultivate compassion and empathy for all my fellow beings, animal, plant and human.

Sometimes answers or perspectives to a problem that I had not seen before come to mind while I meditate. It helps me accept change, especially negative and hurtful change. When I broke up with my boyfriend of 10 months, meditation was one of the few activities that helped me deal with my sadness and grief.

It is important to know why you are meditating before you begin. If you want help getting through something that is upsetting you, it’s perfectly natural for you to cry. Tonglen and Loving Kindness meditations are good for this.

Tonglen meditation is done by imagining that you are breathing in someone’s pain and turning it into loving compassion, which you then return to them. It helps to visualize pain as dark smoke or something else which is repugnant and associated with negative emotions. You imagine breathing in the smoke as you breathe in, then hold your breathe as you turning it into clean air and light, then release your breathe and return the air, which represents kindness and compassion, to whomever is in pain. At Meditation Club, we begin with ourselves because we can not love others if we do not love ourselves (although to be honest the order does not really matter). Then we think of people that we know are suffering and need help. It is also very important to do tonglen meditation for people we do not like to practice exercising seeing their perspective so that we treat them with compassion.

Loving Kindness is similar, but it involves wishing health, happiness, and safety to different people, beginning with yourself and moving on to someone you love, someone you do not like, someone you barely know, and then building up to eventually wishing these things on every organism in existence.

I would love to do research on meditation to observe any health benefits. Many people have gone before me, even though meditation is hard to study because its effects are so personal and unquantifiable (like religion).

I just found a very interesting article in the New York Times about the improvements in attention that meditation can cause. This is it if you want to read it: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/08/health/psychology/08medi.html

In summary, they had groups of volunteers meditate for three months for different amounts of time each day (those with previous meditation experience meditated 10-12 hours a day, while novices meditated 20 minutes a day). Then both groups were given blink tests with two numbers embedded in a series of letters. People in the expert group were better at finding the second number because, according to brain scans, they would see and then “release” the first number faster than the novice group. Those in the novice group tended to have “attentional blinks” in which the brain holds onto information too long and misses new, fast-moving stimuli.

Meditation also reduces stress, improves the immune system, and promotes a sense of well-being. I rarely ever get sick, I am pretty chill, and most of the time I’m happy – all thanks to meditation!

But in all seriousness, when I finish meditating my head is usually clear and for a little while I feel totally serene, completely in tune with the universe and all it has to offer.

:: Edit :: Oh man, how could I forget about chanting meditation? It's probably my favorite because it's so effective. Any mantra will do, though I like Aum. A-U-M. Seen most often as "OM", it actually has three distinct parts. Repeated aloud in a clear, calm voice, it makes your mouth, lips, chest, and top of the head vibrate pleasantly. In Hinduism, it is the sound of the universe being created, associated with Brahman, the creater and essence of the universe which pervades all things and nonthings. Each sound represents a different godly aspect of Brahman; Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva, respectively.

Walk in beauty.

The Importance of Being Philosophical

What is God? Religion? Faith? What do they really mean? How do I apply them to my life? Should I even try? How do they impact what I say and do? Who or what is God, if it is at all? Did God create the universe, or did the universe come to being independently of any other sentient being? What if God did not make us any better than other organisms? Do we overrate sentience because our self-awareness is of course the thing which tells us that sentience is so great? Is God a force as natural as gravity, or something so powerful it created everything that we observe and experience? Does it pervade everything in existence? Does it sit apart from everything? Is its role in our lives nonexistent? Does it interfere intermittently? Or does it control EVERYTHING we think and do? Are the answers to these questions knowable? And do the answers make a difference in our lives? If they make no difference, then what do they matter? Why even ask? Does asking the questions make a difference in our lives?

Think about that last question for a second. We ask so many questions every day (see above) but few of them have the power to change our lives. "Will you marry me?" is an example of an important one, but the answer, "yes/no/maybe/other?" determines what happens next.

Do people gradually live better lives because they ask the BIG questions about God and religions? I can easily get caught in circular questioning (see above) without going anywhere, so that can’t be all there is to it. But those who ask these questions are most likely curious individuals who are investigating other mysteries in their lives as well, be they natural, political, social, psychological, etc. Their desire to know and understand how things work, to question why things are the way they are, predisposes them to do well in life.

Naturally, it is hard to focus on these and other questions when something lower down in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is not met, like food or security. Even if all your lower needs are met, there are other obstacles. Some are cultural – if you’re raised to believe word for word what you’re taught from a young age, then you’re less likely to question why things are the way they are. Some people are naturally more curious than others. I don’t mean to say that people who are more curious are better than those who aren’t. As kids, we were all more or less equally curious. We all wanted to know how things worked and why did that bug just eat that other one EWWWW GROSS ooooooo neato! As I said in an earlier post, kids have to have free time to explore their world to develop their natural curiosity, or they will eventually stop asking.

So asking these questions gets you to think of more questions, which beget even more questions... ad nauseum. Even though most questions have no definitive answers, they show us what we already think. They help shape and reveal to us our own personal truths. That is really the secret of philosophy. It gets you to figure out, not The Truth, but your personal truths. Even if you think that you know everything about yourself, you still learn more about what you believe about the nature of life, the universe, and everything. People who never ask what these truths may be never truly understand what makes themselves tick, and I believe they will always be searching in vain for an external source to answer those and other questions.

Religion is a handy way of getting bunches of people together who belief roughly the same thing about how things are run, but when used properly it’s not really an external source of meaning. I can’t stress this enough: I speak of what religion can do for mankind, not how people have used it to hurt others. When used to enrich lives and bring people together, it’s as if a bunch of people compared notes and realized that many of their answers to the above questions matched up. They shared views about mortal issues as well – social, policitcal, etc. – and decided to worship together because it gave them comfort and security knowing they were not alone. This is, of course, not exactly how it happened. People tended to believe that theirs was the only true religion with the only acceptable answers to the above questions. Religions developed in a variety of cultural and geographical niches, so that where you were and the race/socio-economic status of your parents determined what you believed. This is still very true in most of the world today, although many parents encourage their children to explore other religions before settling on one. Amish young adults are told to go out into the world explore other ways of life, a time in their life called Rumspringa, which can last as long as they choose. At they end they must decide whether they will join the Amish church and return to their community or join the rest of American society.

But I digress. My point in all this rambling is that I think that everyone should question their faith, their beliefs, in order to understand them, rather than to tear them down. People who know what they believe and how it differs slightly from their religion’s orthodoxy, what personal beliefs they have that no one else shares, and what aspects of their religion’s canon they completely agree with, these people are the happiest and most at peace with their lives. They think for themselves, and this allows them to believe for themselves rather than hacking up what someone else shoved down their throats. You must be able to (literally) play devil’s advocate in order to know yourself completely and to know that you are living your faith.

Walk in beauty.

Purpose

We make clear distinctions between things which serve a purpose and things which have no purpose.

On first inspection it may appear that those wheelie toys that I loved as a kid (and still love, to be honest) in which a wheel that has magnets on it moves up and down two metal rods, is a pointless toy. How does a wheel moving between two bars teach you anything? But you could argue that this toy's purpose is to amuse us.

Frivolity is a valid end in itself, and one that is often overlooked. Humans, especially children, need time to explore and discover things about their world that they can not learn through structured play. Without objectives, the mind can think wonderful, new, innovative thoughts that simply can not be forced because when the kid begins to ponder something he has no idea where his thoughts are going. He can also relax and completely be himself without worrying about whether or not he will succeed. Playing sports, instruments, video games, or cards can all be great things, but they need to be balanced with free play. Some studies suggest that kids get frustrated, aggressive, distracted, and sometimes physically sick more easily when they are not allowed any time to play without structure. Letting a kid go explore the woods or a field or run around a playground are excellent opportunities for free play.

And if I may get back to the wheelie toy for a second, while it delights us, it shows us an application of magnetism and teaches us a little about physics. A kid who thinks he hates physics could be taught something and enjoy learning it, especially if the kid has parents who are good at explaining how things work. (Thank you, Dad, that's a nod to you). And the kid improves his hand-eye coordination while he moves the rods up and down to make the wheel move. So this seemingly pointless object serves at least three important functions.

Okay, that makes sense. But what about a toy that's broken beyond repair and can't be salvaged for parts? It can be really sad for a kid to have to throw out favorite toys that have broken. But what choice does he have; what purpose does it serve now? They can be important reminders of the way things used to be. Many memories can be rekindled by the sight of an old toy. Most of us don't have room to store every single toy we've ever played with, nor would we want to do so. But I definitely save my favorites, even when they no longer work, because I want to remember what life was like back in the day for myself, and for my future kids and grandkids. Like photographs, these things serve no purpose per se but they are important aids for our memories as to how things used to be. For someone who's experienced traumatizing change, looking through old photos or old toys can be a painful but therapeutic tool for accepting new circumstances without forgetting everything that was.

Then there are things which seem incapable of ever having done anything for us. Some would consider bad art and awkward inventions (like toilet-paper dispenser head-gear, for a man-on-the-go with a cold) to be totally pointless. As for bad art, just because you don't like it doesn't make it Bad. Chances are he can find someone, somewhere who will buy it from him if he looks hard enough. And even if the artist has to give it to his mom, the piece can make her proud that at least he's trying. Or if his dad rags on him for being an artist instead of a doctor, he can destroy the piece and get out some pent up anger. The artist will either learn from his "mistake" and let it inspire him to do better next time, or he'll look harder for the perfect target audience. (Every minute another sucker is born.) Likewise, behind every great invention are many botched attempts or off-kilter ideas. It's unfortunate that someone may spend so much time trying to make a great invention only to be laughed at, but hey, there is real value in frivolity.

What about trash? This plastic wrapper used to protect my candy bar, but now it's going to take up space at a landfill. I honestly don't know what to tell you. But I hope that someday we can find a way to use only materials that can be re-used, and that, when they do go back to the earth, cause a minimal amount of harm, like packing peanuts made of cornstarch that decompose (and can be eaten if you feel like it).

So there are things which serve us and things which once served us, but is there anything that has never taught anyone anything about life or made a life better, easier, or more interesting? I mean something which serves absolutely no purpose whatsoever. I refer to things, animals, plants, people, emotions.... in essence, every noun. I can't think of anything, but please tell me if you do. I'd be very interested to know.

Walk in beauty.

For Granddad, in loving memory

My granddad died a few weeks ago. He had been sick for many months. I did not witness his decline first hand, but I heard through my mom.

I remember lying on the floor listening to my Granddad and Mom tell stories, everything from teaching experiences to the latest family drama. He notices me perusing a book of his many hundreds and tells me that if I find something I like I should take it. I'm a good kid, so I insist I could never do such a thing, but he persists. Take whatever you want, Lisa. They're no use to me, I've read them all before. He was just generous with other things as well. He gave my sister and I however much we wanted one year when we visited in December to buy each other gifts for Christmas. He also gave us a 200th anniversary book of Peanuts cartoons, which I still treasure enormously. He gave gladly and often, so that he died with very little money to his name. In a last act of generosity, he insisted that the money from his stocks be divided evenly between his children, even those whom had recently and needlessly hurt him without apology, the details of which I won't go into here. This will (hopefully) allow my mom, sister, and I to visit Europe next summer before Amy and I are too old and settled to travel with Mom. We think of and thank him often.

Several years ago, he almost died from an excruciating kidney stone. My mom flew up to Maine to be with him while he recovered in the hospital. She was by his side or within shouting distance the entire time. She washed her clothes in the sink and hung them in granddad's closet. She washed in the shower that came with his room, and when that wasn't available, she washed her face in the bathroom sinks. She had to live on food from vending machines when the cafeteria was closed. All this she endured just to be with him in his time of need, because none of her brothers and sisters could come every day to the hopistal (it was quite a ways away from everyone). Dedication and sacrifice - such is the power of a daughter's love.

Before this tragedy, he had been overweight and an alcoholic. Now, he was neither. The following summer I saw him and had to keep from gasping aloud at the transformation. He had lost much weight in hospital that he never gained back. He looked good for his age, though his face was more wrinkled and he wore a scraggly white beard. He was happy painting, reading, and gardening in his cabin, which my uncles built for him by hand, in Maine on one uncle's property. He was excited to serve us grapes, cheese, and crackers, a dinner fit for a king. He moved slower now, with a cane, but he was still autonomous. He still had his sharp wit and his senses. Though there were times he got lonely, he spent much time with my uncle's family and the Bowdoinham community. He was even thoroughly accepted at a woman's book club with my uncle, who is still a crazy pot-smoking rebel, though he is now a grandfather himself.

Much as I love my grandfather, I did not know him very well. We lived in separate states. I'd see him once a year and I'd love listening to his stories for a couple hours, then we'd say goodbye and that'd be that for a year. He was kind to me, and I loved him even though I saw him so infrequently. I miss him, certainly. Knowing that I can never again discuss philosophy, which I was just beginning to study in college before he died, with my Philosophy professor of a granddad is upsetting to me.

When my mom told me that Granddad was dying, just after spring break, I insisted that she and Dad let me skip a week of classes to go to Maine and visit him with her and my sister (for the first time I found myself thankful the work was so easy to make up). I am SO GLAD I made that trip. It was a very trying time for all involved, but the time I spent with my granddad, to make him happy even for a short time, was incredibly worth it. He was living then with my other aunt and uncle who reside in Maine. He looked much worse than I'd ever seen him before. A lifetime of alcohol overindulgence was finally catching up with him. His body was slowly shutting down. He could not control his bowels. He moved painfully slow and required a walker, though he stubbornly insisted that he could move on his own. His hearing was almost all gone, and I had trouble speaking so he could hear me properly. His eyes looked sunken and sad. He was small and stinky and lonely and he lashed out at the people who were doing the most for him because his mind was finally going. He would make mean remarks about my aunt, who was his biggest advocate. The woman who was working full-time on illustrating a children's book, and packing up all her things for a big move, and being hostess to us, and battling demons of her own, still spent more time and energy than anyone caring for him. He was so out of it that he could not understand why they didn't pay him more attention, spend more time with him. He had no idea that constantly needed assistance and cleaning-up. As my uncle said, he had no idea of his effect on the world around him.

It was hard to be with him, but it gave me the deepest satisfaction to listen once more to his stories. I wanted to see him smile again, to be flocked to instead of avoided. It hurt to see the rest of my family so frustrated with him that they often pretended he wasn't there, too tired to deal with him. And it hurt me to see him hurt them with such careless, callous words. I finally had an opportunity to discuss philosophy with him as I've wanted to do for a long time, and I fairly burst with pride when he complemented one of my philosophy term papers. And because I was new and a guest, therefore I did not have to clean up after my granddad, whenever he was around I spent as much time with him as I could, telling jokes and asking him to tell me stories or explain something about a famous philosopher or saint. (My grandfather was a life-long devout Catholic and liberal Democrat. Take that, stereotypists!) Besides spending time with him, I hoped that I was making things easier for my poor uncle, who was always exhausted from finishing up a house he was building by hand, and my aunt.

I mentioned that we shared jokes? My Grandad had a wonderful sense of humor, and whenever he saw us he'd always have some new joke up his sleeve. But his favorite of all time, which he couldn't get through without cracking up, went like this: a woman and her infant were on a train, and the infant was crying. A man came over to give the baby some food to make her feel better. The man is shocked to see the ugliest baby he's ever beheld, all wrinkly forehead, red, crying eyes, big chin, and sharp angles. So he offers the food to the woman, "Here, would you like a banana for your monkey?" (I don't get it either, but I love how much he loved that stupid joke.)

If I have any regrets, it's that I never got to say a final goodbye to Granddad. I went out for a night walk the last day we were there, and while I was out he had to go to bed. I stupidly did not bring my cell phone, so when I got back it was too late.

My granddad died peacefully in my uncle's house on June 4, 2009. It's been very hard watching my mom grieve the loss of her father, with whom she was very close.

As kids, my mom and her siblings used to toast the great philosophers each morning. Socrates! they'd shout, and take a drink. Plato! Aristotle! Then, Dad! And they’d splash a fingertip wet with OJ in the air. Cheers, Granddad. Tell me someday what the ancients have to say about that.

Happy Father's Day, Granddad. Whenever I read one of your books, which you finally convinced me to take, I think of you. We love you, miss you, and think of you often. <3