Life and Living

Falls

Grasping onto life is like griping a jagged rock on the crest of a waterfall. The water plummeting against your face, blinding your vision, pushing you to fall into gravity’s embrace. 10,000 tons of pressure against your shoulders, the roar of impenetrable following. Its mass of thoughts and emotion building into that crescendo of demand and expectation. You hold onto that rock, that glimmer of confidence, hoping against hope that you are strong enough. You take the beating until you give into the loud voice of doubt which gushes around your head and collects in a pit of failure, or until the last of the snow has melted and the waters subside.

Hold on I say, hold on with all your might. View the streams from atop that mountain, climb your way, one step at a time. Do not lose patience. It is the patience that withstands the waiting. It is the patience that is your strength. It is that quiet voice within that wishes to guide you away from the plummeting tide. Quiet the roar and hold on to your jagged little rock so that you may emerge 10,000 times stronger; half a life-time of strength. And when you are able to open your eyes again you will be blessed with 10,000 times more beauty, as if colors are kissing the iris for the very first time.

Life is a waterfall. We must endure and we must find our way out of the mouth. To gleam over at our feats, to view a fate we chose with iron fists and steady hearts. To see that we are separate from the gush of experience. We are not the collection of that which surrounds us and we do not have to have to be carried over to fall among them. Stand upon this ridge. View the beauty of this tapestry as it rushes by. See all it is creating in the wake of convolution; this agglutination of thought and feeling, of direction and doubt. It forges through lands and diverges into calmer streams and rivers and creeks. A massive source of sustenance jutting into the world, giving life to others and design to yours. 

Remember that we are delicate and the rapids strong. Match its strength and then rest upon the ledge. Do not let this unanimous source of life take what makes you. Hold on, climb out and let it flow beneath you. Within is but a quiet soul who wishes only to see and be seen--so breath in the mountains air, stand tall and let it see.  

Doing what You Love is not Overated

Written the week before I graduated with my Bachelors in English Literature and Creative Writing, after 6 years of working towards a degree as a single mother. Time to heed these words. Look out, and see the dream.

If you have ever held back on working towards something you love because of fear, not having confidence, because someone tells you that's not the best direction, or because you worry about security. I just want to say,

Do it!

Carpe Diem, isn't it?

I say this because I started going to school for nursing, which was not me. The fact that there would be better job options is why I did it, I felt I needed to do something in way of progress. I felt miserable in school. Eager students would sit around and talk about how much they've always wanted to be a nurse, doctor etc. and that just left me feeling out of the circle and I didn't understand it. When I made the decision to put my foot down and force myself in the direction that has always called to me but was always scared to do, everything changed. Many responses to my aspiring towards a degree in English Literature and Minor in Creative writing were something to the effect of, '...but what will you do with it?'

I'll tell you:

I may never be a novelist or distinguished writer. I may never make a pretty penny on published work; but I will have learned tools to do what I love, even if it’s from behind a lit up computer screen in the wee hours of the night. I will have more confidence to do what awakens the core of who I am as a person. That ability to grow in myself is irreplaceable. It's not really about the career alone, it’s about surrounding yourself with people and things you love. I cannot speak enough to how special that point is. It makes such a big difference to answer the calling of your heart, regardless of what economic benefit it has or doesn't have. Have you ever heard the saying that when you follow your heart the rest falls into place? Well, that is true. Even if what falls into place is not originally thought they would be.

The people I have met along the way are amazing. We share interests and want to help each other on the road to betterment. There's nothing like walking into a room, listening to people talk and realizing there are other people out there, like me! People who feel the way I do.

I speak mostly to my writing classes. I fell in love with these workshops and am so sad to see them end. It brought back memories of writing when I was young and inspired to be something when I grew up. I never felt that way about previous half-hearted endeavors, just going with the flow or trekking the land of should be. It was when I challenged myself to feed the hunger with the food it wanted, that I became full.

Graduation is next Friday and I’m not sure what the next chapter will be. But I will start back up with the Fiction Fix crew again, who is full of people volunteering for a journal because they love being surrounded by their craft. That will be such a learning experience in itself. There is a group of people who connected in these classes who want to keep in touch and talk about stories, to read and critique each others projects. I see a writers group in the works! I also have endless information now about good books to read, writing groups to follow, resources I would have never known about and people to go to for help when I get stuck.

Though something is ending, it feels like the future ahead is wide open, and possibility is endless. I feel excited to walk into it. I don’t think I would have felt that had I not gone for what I was passionate about. I should note that I have met people of all ages, some much older in life who sat on their desire to try or do for a long time. They were grateful they went for it. I have a hunch that excitement I feel, must be something even more for them. 

"It is never too late to become who you might have been." 

I wanted to share this with folks who feel stuck or may be wondering, what do I do next? Maybe you wanted to be a photographer, artist, editor, engineer, gardener or doctor. I have met people who went for it. They exude a light about their work, and you can tell they do it because they love it.

You don't have to go to school. That may be difficult to manage between time and money constraints. I wouldn't even be close to finishing college at this point if my partner hadn't been so supportive. However, you can pick up that paintbrush, look for interest groups that focus on that thing you love, join events like Riverside Arts Market or Art Walk. Write without fear, submit projects to publishers or local magazines, work with youth, get outside and see nature, advocate your passion, read and research what your drawn to in books or blogs. We should be looking for opportunities to get involved with the things we care about, on a personal level. I speak to myself here too! I think it will teach a lot about ourselves and will give back to those we love, because we will be making time for something that moves us and puts us at our best.

It’s encouraging for people to hear about the happiness, goals and success stories of others, both big or small. I hope you will share yours!

I will leave you one last note. Life and society is full of supposed limitations. Be a rebel...break them.

DIY: Rustic Wedding Makeover

Are you having trouble finding the rustic pieces you envision for your wedding at little cost locally? Well, I have been working on a few projects to spruce up what I can get for cheap.

A friend was kind enough to give me this guest book and pen set from someone she knew. It's the basic white on white wedding stuff you'd see just about everywhere. Instantly though, I knew exactly what I would do to it to make it fit my wedding style. It's not that this style isn't pretty, it was just a little to floofy for me; the white mesh bows with white silk and white lacing. Just not my style, so I changed it up.

Here are some simple fixes to give generic 

wedding accessories a rustic touch.

First I removed the bow and cut off the lacing from around the bottom. With my "good for everything" hot glue gun, I began to glue lines of hemp string along the bottom. I also hot-glued a bit of hemp around the silver at the base of the pen just to hide any shiny bits.

At this point, I still felt it lacked something. I then remembered two hair cloth clips I bought in the girls section at Target (these were not expensive, around 2 bucks) and hot-glued those cloth flowers in place of the bow. Now everything looked much more rustic. But when I placed that white pen back with the silver in the middle, it just through the whole thing off. So what did I do?

More hemp! And more hot glue.

In a matter of 20 minutes, I turned this guest book pen into my own rustic vision.

I feel anyone can do something like this. If you only have the run of the mill Michaels or Joanne's wedding items available and don't want to spend extra money for handmade or unique items, don't fret. Think outside the box and just pick up a few other cheap goodies while in the store.

Don't be afraid to change it to feel like more like you. 

With a little craft-time and imagination, you can transform just about anything to suite your style. Isn't that what designing your wedding is all about? And the best part is you don't have to spend an arm and a leg to do so.

DIY: Rustic Wedding - Groomsmen Flowers on a Budget

If you must know, these were made in under 15 minutes and at little cost. A large roll of hemp was around $5. The baby's breath--well seeing how it comes 3 big bunches for 10 dollars at a local grocery store, and this is merely a pinch of that, we'll just say cheap. The purple flower I pulled from my backyard. How nice to have it that simple!


I have a hot glue gun, so I warmed that bad boy up, cut a bit of string and glued one end in place, then twisted and glued the other end (with just a dab) and viola! This just cut off at least 50 dollars off our florist budget. Since the guys usually aren't too big about flowers anyway, there's no need to go overboard. You could add greenery as well, or herbs. I will be trying out a few different looks but this is the simplicity I like.

As a bonus, you wouldn't even notice that these flowers had been sitting on my fireplace mantle for almost two weeks. So that's another plus to baby's breath, you can make this at least a week before the wedding and before all the craziness and will keep well. It's fairly worry free and for brides coming up on their big day like I am, it's pretty nice to have something that is.

Speech Blunders: Mord Wixups

Ever had a verbal/mental mix up, causing you to sound more like Doc from Snow White than an actual human with intelligent thoughts? 
Doc: "what are you and who are you doing?"


Well your not alone. 

There is a reason I relate to the character Paul Rudd plays in I Love You, Man. He just makes up words and odd sentences, and well, I do that too especially in nervous situations. Which can be, well...awkward.


The other day at my son's T-ball game I made a comment about running murther. Which, was supposed to be either "more" or "further" and that's just what came out. Then while trying to get my daughter to kneel by the tub to wash out excess shampoo, I kept floundering for the right words. They just came out in stutters and rambling non-sense. All I was trying to say was "sit down and put your head over the side of the tub" but it came out as everything but. Something like, "put head under and sit over...bend on sit... sit over... put head down side, under tub..."  Finally I just took her body and showed her what to do. I was done with forming words at the moment.

I've always, always had the problem getting what is in my head to come out of my mouth in the correct manner. Perhaps that is why I enjoy writing. I say its a brain to mouth complex, it just doesn't want to work all the time, so brain to hand...much better. Maybe it's because our mouths are slower than our typing hands these days, who knows!

Thing is, when I try to duplicate a word mix up, it is like a very complex puzzle and much more difficult than saying it correctly. That tells me that the unconsciousness mind is one smart cookie! For instance, when I was a kid, I got mad while playing volleyball with some friends and when I was skipped over for team captain. In a fluster I said, "Hey, it's my turn to be keam taptain!"

Did you know that type of mix up happens often enough that it has a name? Its called a spoonerism. And it baffles my mind every time it happens.

The other thing that happens quite often is thinking of two words to describe something and as speaking, it's as if the mind hasn't really chosen which is best. So it just combines them. These can be pretty funny, or should I say, hilunny. Hilarious + funny? You get it. Here is a list of some interesting combinations I've babbled recently:

"Does your tumach hurt?"  {tummy + stomach} or the opposite,  stummy (one I'm all too familiar with.)
"That's biuge!"  {big + huge}
"Man you'd have to run fuick"  {fast + quick}
"That's faneat!"  {fantastic + great}

And these have a technical name as well: Portmanteau. What is so neat to think about is that this is actually the way a lot of words came about that we use today! 

'Smog' = Smoke/Fog. Though 'foke' may not have worked as well.

Think about it though, it really is quite amazing that our brains have the ability to do the lightning- fast processing of switching letters around in in various forms in the first place, and actually making it an audible creation.

Oh the strange brain. I do believe it has a sense of humor working against us: it's own form of personal entertainment, keeping us on our toes. Regardless, I must say, what fascinating minds we have! 

Or should I say, brinds.

Earth Blog: Water as Space

Last week my Ecocritism class had a conversation about pride and the St. Johns River. Or rather the lack there of. Because of this I made an effort to spend time overlooking the River this week. I went out a number of times and each time had a different experience. First I went to read for a class at Memorial Park on the water in Riverside. I immediately noticed an easier ability to focus. Something about the quiet calm allowed my mind to fully absorb the text. I had to wonder what it was about this space that allowed for my mind to open up, not unlike the space in front of me.

The second time I went out when the last light had fallen. I peered over the edge of a stone pillared railing and what I saw charged a completely different sensation. I saw the water as thick molasses—like a malaise. It turned into something almost terrifying. It felt as though the water would swallow whole me if I fell in. There was something about the smooth, bobbing flow that sparked imagination in me though. Sure, I thought about what it would be like to fall in and swarm in the open darkness of the breathing tide. But I also began to think of images, stories and plots. I began cataloging all the senses I was feeling, how I would describe all the images around the moonlight. It was strange how, instantly, once again my mind had been opened by sense and sight of the open space.

My Photo. In Riverside, Jacksonville FL. St. Johns River

Another occasion, I went out to Stinson Park to let my children play on the playground by the harbor. We originally went to watch the Blue Angels fly over of the river in front of Bettes Park. I even parked on a waterside street in Avondale to stare out over the mass of water. I suppose in some way I was trying to understand it better. I asked myself, how can a river so large just be overlooked? I found that the simplicity of the sun’s rays glittering atop the water or the stark call of a seagull coasting on the wind was incredibly peaceful. Still, I was unable to place what I was feeling specifically . I had to wonder--what if more people went and sat soaking up the St. Johns as if it was character in a book or something with a voice. After all, wasn't that what I was doing? In my own way it was speaking to me.

One thing that remained constant across all the visits to the River was how completely uncluttered I felt.  Not only did my mind feel open but the space was physically around me. There’s a 'space' across water that we don’t get in most places. Even small ponds or wetlands allow for the sky to open up and become taller. It allows for us to see a big picture, not just what is in physically obstructing our views, like houses or trees. There are many beautiful nature scenes but physically, there is not much like the uncluttered panorama’s overlooking outstretched water in our everyday lives.

There is something about open space that gives some sort of mental “time-out” and allows for our minds to escape the distraction that forms all around us in other landscapes or urban settings. According to Nora J. Rubinstein's work , The Psychological Value of Open Space, “Perhaps the dominant expressed rationale for using open space is the need for a place of contemplation and solitude. Many say they seek places set apart physically, or separated from other people, while others seek to simply remove themselves from their daily rituals and need no physical or social separation.”  Water is one of the most open areas we as humans can go to. A place that is nearly impossible to overpopulate by man-made structures. Therefore, it acts as a sort of haven away from 'structure' itself and perhaps even allows the mind to break away from the ‘pressure’ of those structures and all the psychological babel that comes along with it. Open space  tends to “suggests that nature serves to reduce our stress by reducing physiological arousal, and the alternate perspective suggests that stress results from our efforts to deal with 'information overload'. Nature is seen as an effective stress reducer because it provides a kind of 'cognitive quiet', necessitating fewer decisions based on external demands.”

I took a couple photo's to demonstrate how the open river looks in comparison to a landscape that is normally overpopulated with things. In Stinson Park,  I not only took photos in front of me overlooking the water, but also turned around and took photos behind me to show the contrast of open space compared to obstructed space. Even in a beautiful park the land adds a bit of edge and shadow, whereas the open water adds lightness. I highly suggest you go to a open expanse of a water and see how you feel after five minutes just looking our over it. Consider it a therapy of sorts. Let your mind open, wonder and create.

Open space compared to...

limited viewing of landscape

Barnes, M. A. (1994). A Study of the process of emotional healing in outdoor spaces and the concomitant landscape design implications [Unpublished Master's Thesis] (Clare Cooper Marcus, Chair)

Kaplan, R., & Kaplan, S. (1989). The Experience of nature: A Psychological perspective. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Robunstein, Nora J. Ph.D. The Psychological Value of Open Space. Chapter 4 http://www.greatswamp.org/Education/rubinstein.htm. Viewed: November 6, 2011

Poem Vault: Giants

And so I walk in silence, among the moss and tree

And wonder of those who had wandered long before I breathed;

Whose giants roamed, whilst they looked so high.

The ground shaken and fear embracen sky.

Wanderers they roamed, so few

To escape the sorrowful air

But each place they returned to, a weapon too would stare;

A sodden rock, a shaven twig;
To puncture the heart so big.

Now so long later, I wonder in the silence

At which fate did bring them to their knees;

and choked their breath like a hot stale wind,

Coming to a seize.

Eerie caw echoes, but only creaks speak back;

And so then silence the air became;

And we carried on in our little packs--

a whisper, a squeak.

I wonder if perhaps those
beasts 

Were no beast at all;

But a fear of a cricket to I, who
Would not notice
That it lived at all, if not for its singing in the night.

We would not see

So perhaps we did not exist until the fight

Brought down the few giants of our tales;

For human, if no more creature than he,

Needs only to be seen

And seen

And seen

That is all.

And so the giants fade, and we appear,
Oh so tall

But these valleys we roam through are echoed by vibrations;

A ghost of a footstep and that is all;

Their legend now like a grain of sand, from that valley engraven

From once where they did stand.

And we journey on

And on

And on

And in silence wonder about the past;

Who once did stand above;

Who we tower over now;
Who is next to be tall;
Who is yet to fall.

Where the world will grow larger

And we become footprints in the soil.
A legend of time, of tales;
A whisper, a creak

And that is all

That is all

By: Sara H.Yates (Coggin)

Earth Blog: Lessons in the Sublime

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods; 

 There is a rapture on the lonely shore; 

There is society, where none intrudes,  

By the deep sea, and music in its roar;  

I love not man the less, but Nature more... 

 - Lord Byron

There is something fascinating about nature that draws us to it, which we see in Moby Dick. Ishmael pointedly reminds the reader that "beholding the tranquil beauty and brilliancy of the ocean's skin, one forgets the tiger heart that pants beneath it; and would not willingly remember, that this velvet paw but conceals a remorseless fang".

Though it is so easy to enter, sometimes we forget that nature is unpredictable, untamed and unstable. There have been a number of occasions in which I was left with that sublime feeling of the wonder and power of nature--that thing that made me suddenly feel small and insignificant in the big picture of things.

I remember a time that I was out in “mouth” of the inter-coastal, where it meets the ocean among the rough breakers. I was feeling powerful on the back of a jet-ski, speeding the open waters. It was our playground where everybody rode and jumped the waves. One particular wave began to curl at just the wrong time and our Jet-ski went straight up the face of the wave and we plummeted backwards. At that moment, within those few seconds, I lost sight of everything. All I could see as I tread water was the waves bobbing up and down all around in every which direction, each too high to see beyond. It was at that moment I sensed the greatness of the ocean: not knowing how deep it was beneath my dangling feet, nor how far away the shore was. As I was tossed in the waves, fretting over if I would be found, I realized how small and insignificant I was. Time seemed to slow down and my senses became uncomfortably heightened. I was fearful. It wasn't long before I was found but it took only that sharp, quick moment to get utterly lost in the wilderness of the ocean. Since, I have had a hard time going back out in it because of that penetrable moment in the oceans belly made me realize how small and vulnerable I was against the water-world.

Another experience centers around Yosemite. Every granite wall stretching thousands of feet tall, seemed to hold some kind of majestic quality. It made me feel indescribable, as if I was in a place for the supreme. Waterfalls plummeted with amazing force and grace. But what was even more humbling than seeing such beauty and awe first hand, was the recent story of 3 people going over Vernal-Falls where I  happened to get engaged 6 months before. It was an awful feeling, imagining their faces bobbing towards the edge of the 318 foot waterfall, knowing their fate had been terrifyingly sealed.

It made me realize that nature does not change for us, we are affected by nature. One persons heaven is another person's hell but the nature of the place is the same. It just reminds me that nature is unbiased and unfeeling; it will not bend just because you will it so.

When we go into nature, we should go with respect because it will impress and inspire us, but the experience we seek to have in the wild may not be what we get. I am reminded of Christopher McCandless from Into the Wild. That particular moment when he realizes the wonder of Alaska has trapped him by snow caps melting into water blockades. Then his whole mentality shifts because he is no longer venturing into nature, he is trapped in nature. He dies out there alone among the beautiful. Sublime nature is intriguing but it’s lethal, even in that captivating beauty.

Earth Blog: Anthropomorphism - "Our" Love to the Animals

On October 8th, a celebration was held for the 10th birthday of Salsa and Onca—two original jaguars at the Jacksonville Zoo. I found it interesting upon seeing this announcement how human the celebration was. Having read about anthropomorphism in Rachel Carson’s Under the Sea-Wind, I understood portraying animals through a human lens. This however, seemed to take it to another level.

The birthday invitation wrote: “The birthday 'bash' will begin with the crowd singing happy birthday at 1:00 p.m. immediately followed by the two enrichment cakes being appropriately hunted and eaten by the honorees. Guests will be served cookies, while supplies last, and can sign an enlarged birthday card.”

I’m pretty sure the Jaguars didn't care if it was their birthday but people were proud to celebrate the years they've been able to enjoy them. It made sure to mention that the Jaguars came to the zoo because they were rejected by their mother, which is certain to trigger an emotional human response. This would make people feel a parental need to care for them because their mother wouldn't. This also encourages a sense that their lives are better at the zoo.

I found the image of a large group of people singing to the animals and signing a card to celebrate them a bit comical. It was also ironic that the hiding enrichment cakes would be 'hunted'. How does a long range animal hunt in an exhibit? And not meat but 'cake'. My anthropomorphic response: a voice for the Jaguar saying, “Really guys?” Still, there is a part of me that thinks how entertaining it would be for the baby jags.

As a human myself, there is also something very sweet and cute about the whole affair. I don’t mean to sound cynical because I tend to humanize animal’s emotions a lot. I 'rescued' my cats from outdoors when one of the three in their litter died. I just refused to let it happen again and I couldn't just take one of them because I thought it would devastate the brothers to be apart, especially after loosing one sibling already. This case of anthropomorphism seemed to work in their favor though. They have no shortage of blankets or laps to cozy up on to feel safe and comfortable. Oh wait, there I go again.

There are dangers to anthropomorphism though. In an article called For Love of Nature, Jennifer Laddino discusses the premise that Grizzly Man, for example, “represents an approach to the natural world that is deeply infused with human ideals of love", an issue of bringing love to nature—and imagining nature loving us in return. The story of Grizzly man, while somehow romantically infused, doesn't end well. He spent his summer’s with bears and mistook his luck of not being attacked with their 'love'. Eventually, he was killed by one despite all his connection to the creatures.

Watch: Grizzly Man Trailer

• How does this love reflect human ideals about nature and culture?
• How is love among nonhuman animals imagined and represented?
• Does love function divisively, to further separate humans from nonhuman nature, or is love figured as a means of bridging the human–animal divide?
• And does love become yet another kind of mastery over animals, an emotional–political way to distinguish “them” from “us” (p.4)?

There are some questions to think about.

Caring about animals makes people feel good...but so does the idea that they care that you care. No-one said love was uncomplicated. So is there really so much wrong with humans gathering to celebrate a love for an animal’s life? I don't think so. Hey we are human after all and we're going to have human emotions. Even if it is a bit more for us than for them, they are still being appreciated and that is helpful in the larger psych. Especially as animals face dwindling numbers and loss of homes. But I think it is important to remember that there is a divide between the wild animal beyond tamed walls of human ideals and the caged animal, subdued by human interaction. Our human emotions project onto them because we care. But if these jaguars were in their natural habitat, I don't think people would be as keen to clasping their hands together and oohing and awing while singing birthday tunes to the big cats. Not unless they want to be the cake.

1. Interdiscip Stud Lit Environ (2009) 16 (1): 53-90. doi: 10.1093/isle/isp002. For the Love of Nature: Documenting Life, Death, and Animality in Grizzly Man and March of the Penguins. http://isle.oxfordjournals.org/content/16/1/53.full

2. Jacksonville Zoo Website (2011) Salsa & Onca’s 10th Birthday Celebration.http://ht.ly/6PoRi

Earth Blog: Ecocriticism and the Chesapeake Bay's Receding Shorelines

'Snake Lake' off the Chesapeake Bay, Fairhaven MD

When I was a child growing up on the Chesapeake Bay, I spent much time on the beaches and roaming the areas around it—forests, streams and rivers, clay cliffs or tall grass fields. “It is our nation’s largest estuary and is home to over 3600 types of species of plants, fish and animals”.  On any given day I could find sharks teeth, horse shoes, crab, jellyfish or see stingray in the water. Also seen daily were the large amounts of birds that resided near there; my favorite being the Blue Heron and Swan. We spent time crabbing and swimming in those waters and when mud tides came we would walk a mile out in the mud with it squishing between our toes, fascinated by that underwater world. 

Satellite view of Fairhaven, Maryland

When I went back there as an adult one of the most alarming things I noticed was the disappearing beaches. John boats and sail boats used to lay in the sand but they now laid pulled up into the grass because the beach was so small. This was a stark contrast to years before. There was a photo Grandpa Becke had up in his kitchen of a wide, long beach from many, many years ago. I remember thinking, what happens when there are no more beaches?  Then I heard that real-estate companies were trying to buy up the surrounding forests around Fairhaven (our tiny bay-side town). It infuriated me. Of course, my reasons then were because of my attachment to the quaint, intimate-ness and beauty of its small neighborhood environment. I thought to myself, what would happen to all the animals that live back there? And all the birds that nest near the river’s edge in the woods? I didn’t know too much about Ecocriticism at that point, but even without formally knowing what it was, I knew somehow that something wrong was happening. 

In the Green Team by James Hopkins reflects on the Jonathan Bate, writer of Romantic Ecology. He says, “Wordsworth did not view nature in Enlightenment terms - as that which must be tamed, order, and utilized- but as an area to be inhabited and reflected upon.” Further saying how “he hoped human beings might see into the life of things, and reveal their place in a system of delicate relations between the human and the non-human worlds.” 

While reading those words I think about the Bay’s disappearing shoreline and land being devastated for residency—how that balance isn’t really being kept. Humans are building closer and closer to the edge of the bay and doing more and more damage to its “buffer areas”.  As scientists and activists in a documentary called “Weary Shoreline” (posted below) point out, “preserving forest cover and preventing construction on soils near the shoreline helps stop sediments, oil, and other harmful pollutants from draining into rivers and tributaries that flow into the Chesapeake Bay.”

Calvert Cliff Lighthouse Chesapeake Bay, Maryland

Not only will it be hard for those residents in the future when the shores continue to move with changing climates by this disappearing shoreline closing in on properties, but serious damage is being done to the waters of the bay. Somehow reflection on this delicate relation between the two worlds really isn't being treated delicately enough. 

Innovative Water and Wastewater Solutions

Ecocritcism literature may help to spread knowledge to people about the importance of paying attention the ecology of places such as this—a place that people and animals are continually drawn to for its lush, thriving and beautiful environment. Likewise, both will be negatively affected if we don’t start paying more attention to the needs of the Chesapeake Bay and its inhabitants, beyond human consequence alone. 

 

---

 

Natural Wildlife Federation 2011. Global Warming, Effects on Wildlife and Habitat. Chesapeake Bay and Global Warming. NWF Web Page

Hopkins, James. In the Green Team. ASLE Ecocritical Library

Wickham, John. "Death by a Thousand Cuts": Chesapeake Bay's Disappearing Shoreline. Chesapeake Bay Action Plan

***There are a lot people who live near and feel passionately about the Bay and work to make sure it's treated correctly. A good place to go see these works or get involved is at Chesapeake Bay Program.

A Narrative: Childlike Wonder on Fire and Flame

There was a period in my youth when I was obsessed with fire. It wasn't a long period. It was that moment between childhood and pre-pubescence. There, stuck in the middle with a highly curious mind. I found a stash of match books. I would sit, lighting one after another on a speed bump in the road. I loved the chalky sound of a match swiping against the hard pavement, and how just before it would ignite, it would crackle and sigh simultaneously.  I’d watch the tiny white spark abrupt into flame. It started so quick, and ended too quick. Every time. I could never seem get a good enough view in time. I'd cock my neck to the side and hold the match upward, then down and watch the flame fight against gravity.  It never lasted long enough to satisfy my senses.

I’d watch the speck of white turn to auburn-like colors and mixes of oranges and yellows meshing together. The flame would seem to grow and melt down the wooden stick like lava made of cloud. I’d watch the tan wood blacken bit by bit. It was like the flame was some dark, hungry entity devouring a clean soul. It was amazing how even though it eagerly feed its raw appetite, it seemed to dance gracefully, softly while doing it.

Somehow right towards the end, as it trekked towards my finger tips, I could see it calming and speeding up at the same time. I wouldn't want to put it out but would feel this excitement, an urgency. And just as much as I loved how this somehow beautiful, powerful thing crackled into thin air, I also loved how the sound of air magically swallowed it in the end with a soft gush (to save my precious fingers of course). Just as thrilling was dipping the flame into a puddle and instantly hearing it's deflating, dissipating like a snakes slick hiss warning of tssss. 
I can’t tell you exactly why it was so mesmerizing to me. I didn't necessarily wonder about the science of fire or the reasons why it behaved the way it did. I was fully aware of the dangers and never wanted the flame to grow bigger. I simply loved the sensation of watching this fleeting thing coming into existence and just as quickly, evaporating into nothingness. It’s there, and then it’s gone. I simply loved the quick sounds that I had to strain to really store into memory because they were over as soon as they began.

Eventually though the stash of matches burnt out and I moved on from pyro days to other fascinating and curious things. To this day though, I still love lighting candles each night. Love the ambiance of a warm glow and the calm it exudes. My daughter asked why I had so many candles in the house, why I lit them every night and as I went around striking the match box and lighting each, one by one. I told her as I held it burning down the stick, "I just like them" and blew out the flame.

               

Great Music, Great video

Beautiful, thanks Shay. Had to post!

Love when beautiful music and footage comes together in one.


ASTW Presents | Miss Emily Brown | The Diary Of Amy Briggs from A Story Told Well on Vimeo.

Photography Spotlight: Sean Yates, Burning Man

One of my favorite photos ever taken by my brother Sean Yates.

This photo can can stem a thousand stories in itself. Amazing.  



In the photo: Mitch Iverson and Trish Coren at Burning Man 2010

Photography Spotlight: Ashton Kinsey Part I

I can't wait to show off this photographer right here. She is one of my closest friends in the world. She is also such an extremely talented artist. Her ability to take one thing and turn it into a masterpiece is beyond me. She can look at a blank room and visualize exactly what it needs to become something spectacular. The same goes when photographing people. I'm breaking this up into two parts because she has two major niches'. The second part will be of children because she captures them so fantastically. 

The first part however, is in fashion photography. This is snippets of some of her most recent work. You can see more at a.kinsey photography.

Above photo of Ashton by Shannon Mathis. 

 Juliet Galleon

Below Model: Megan Henderson

Below Model: Chrissy Blair

Model: Lauryn Bocook

Below Model: Victoria Gesell

Kenzie Thompson

 

Amanda Barboza

 

 Above Model: Heather Lynn Shaw

Native Americans: Absence of Place

I had the pleasure of going to my very first cub scouts adventure with my six year old son this past year.  It led us to the Cherokee Tribe of St. George, GA.  I have always been enamored by Native American culture: art, music and rituals, but had never actually been among natives to see it. 

We were invited by the tribe to be a part of their Pow Wow, a ritual that is very important to their culture. It took place in a large open circle outdoors, with wooden benches around the edges.  The Cherokee members told us how this circle was sacred to them, that it was their “church” in which they would pray to their ancestors and celebrate life.  They dressed in their finest native garb, rhythmically drumming in the center and raising their voices in song.  Dancers would enter into the circle one by one after waving incense on to them with fans made from feathers. They would continue to move around in the circle with the dances of their bands. It was quite intriguing and rewarding to watch. 

It's a strange thought though, to be among their ancestors and see how little is left really.   I could not help but envision this ritual as it once was. Perhaps similarly, but out on rich landscape with the earth as their spirit guides. It is all too easy to forget the realities, that before there were American’s (from other countries), there were native tribes all across America.  I had to then compare it to this small chunk of land right next to an old rickety railroad track with a train roaring by so often and to the crowding tourists coming to watch and learn, but also to shop at the vendors set up around camp.

               
I was blown away by the beautiful art. It was a chance to learn about how Natives once lived. There was something really great about the ceremonies and acceptance of us but I was left feeling some strangeness in looking on at it as well. This gathering of people from all around took the form of some spectacle that is detached from the rest of society.   I can only ask myself, is this what they would have become had it not been for our ancestors brutal takeovers?  I know that once the West was “won” and things calmed down to a degree, to survive as Native Americans they had to become a part of the scene. They really didn't have much choice but to be a part of the tourism. The Ken Burns documentary about The National Parks explains how Native American's would dress up for Americans to come. They were given leeway by being a part of the cultural surroundings (but not owning any of it). For example, Travelers would gawk over their clothing, long hair and feathers in places like the Grand Canyon. Their presence made the attraction seem more 'authentic'. Part of the reason for the native American's willingness to do this was to try to make peace among the new settlers once their lot was lost.  It wasn’t exactly what one would call fair. In fact it further stripped them. 

It was not the first Indian Reservation I had been to, I went to a music festival on the Big Cypress Indian reservation in the Everglades.  The land was absolutely beautiful and there was not a building in sight for miles. It was breathtaking to see land almost as if it had been untouched by time.  Of course, not until we came to the camp grounds, where thousands of cars and people camped.  So this now brings to mind another question. Why are these sacred lands also a part of events that come and either take over the land or bring spectators to view?  I’m not sure that the answer is an uncomplicated one, as I am sure that finances have a part in it, among other things.  Still it makes one wonder what this 'otherness' must feel like to these minorities, from the inside looking out.  It seems that many see Native American grounds as a sort of ‘stage’.  

I can’t help but feel bad then that I am a part of the crowd. 
            
Personally, I feel Native American culture is one of the few cultures that fully embrace the beauty of the earth and its inhabitants as well as having respect in the cycle of life.  Animals are respected, as is the land. They use art, dance and music as a means of prayer and communication.  It seems to me that while they understand something about life so many don’t even see, their tribes have non-the-less, dwindled down into the corners of America-- like an endangered species. Like a shadow.  

While I was sitting and watching this ceremony in this giant grass circle take place, I kept thinking this is the type of church I would want to go to. This is a community I would like to be a part of. The reality is however, it’s not very easy to be a part of because there are so few places for it now. These reservations are far and few between and that, to me, is very unfortunate because there is so much to learn from this amazing, but dwindling culture. We should want to keep it alive and want to be a part of it. Mostly, we should somehow give back to the people who lost all their land. Not just say we understand it was wrong and appease our countries guilt by giving them the small bouts of land no-one wants. This colorful culture deserves more than a gesture, it deserves its place.