Siddhartha and Govinda

When I first began reading Siddhartha, I thought he was the Buddha and was surprised by some of his actions. He sometimes looked down on Govinda with scorn or contempt. When Govinda asks him a question, for example, “he laughed and his voice took on a shadow of sorrow and mockery.” (Hesse 25) I realized later that although Siddhartha’s journey may sound similar to the Buddha’s, they are not the same person. (I figured this out when he was talking to the Buddha himself!)
It is perhaps more important that the journey we are reading about is not one so complete, whose “face face and [...] gait [...] and even every finger of his dangling hands bespoke peace, expressed perfection.” (Hesse 29) It is instead about one who has a lot of learning to do. Somebody who rejects material goods for three years to gain control over his senses, rejects the authority of teaching and even tries to abandon the self only to return to the real world (although not entirely a part of it) to pursue an education of a very strong desire and one which he was easily able to overcome before by listening to “the voice of his innermost self” which said “No.” (Hesse 50) What is Siddhartha really trying to achieve?
As I’ve said before, it took a while for me to realize that Siddhartha was not meant to be perfect. And so his actions are permitted to be all over the place. I believe that this sampling of different mindsets is a very meaningful and powerful one. We as readers are able to pick and choose which outlooks we like most and realize the connections between them which enhance each other. I, for example, liked the eyes-open-wide approach Siddhartha took after he decided to leave the forest where, “as if seeing the world for the first time,” “the world was beautiful and colorful.” (Hesse 40) Similarly, returning to the real world of merchants, money and possessions but with the additional outlook of a Samana produced a mindset which I really liked (and which was totally foreign to be to be honest!) When Siddhartha was sent by Kamaswami to make a business transaction which failed, he instead turned the trip into a vacation, where he “[was] very satisfied with [this] trip.” (Hesse 66) While Siddhartha’s approach seems a little bit disjointed and contradictory, it actually isn’t! He is figuring things out in a very natural way, acting whenever he believes he needs to change his path and sticking wholeheartedly to what he has chosen to believe.

This is super cheesy I know, but I think Siddhartha's approach is like a buffet: he picks and chooses what he likes, and they all come together quite nicely!

http://mblog.manager.co.th/uploads/1027/images/buffet.jpg

I was also interested about Govinda. Who is he in this story? At first I saw him as a somewhat pathetic friend, panting after Siddhartha to “Wait up!”after each of his latest philosophies—keeping up with a friend that he thought was “cool” more than approaching any meaningful appreciation on his own. But later in the book my perception changed, and I began to respect Govinda more although I haven’t completely figured him out. Govinda is clearly one who takes value in the role of the teacher. Initially he “wanted to follow Siddhartha, who was beloved and majestic.” (Hesse 6) Later, however, he leaves Siddhartha to follow the teachings of Gotama, the Buddha, whom he believes to have the truest understanding. Is Govinda still only a follower? Is he more right than Siddhartha in having truly found what he believes to be the way to live and sticking with it? Or is he merely a realist, sticking with something which he knows works without wandering like Siddhartha has done, trying to find something that he doesn’t know exists? I was very intrigued by Govinda, someone who was largely peripheral to the story of the namesake of this book. But I think his journey represents more of the every man’s and should be paid closer attention.

As hard as I tried, I couldn't find an image of Govinda. I think his story is very important in the book.

http://i30.photobucket.com/albums/c339/scorpiogirl91/Stick_Figure.png

Eastern Religions

When I read the prompt for this DB, namely to compare Ahimsa to the Western concept of compassion, and particularly following the past two readings which sometimes were unfavorable to the Bible, I entirely expected Ahimsa to be a completely different concept of compassion. I was surprised, however, to find that Ahimsa was highly similar to Christ’s teachings—a more extreme version, perhaps and one which explicitly included kind treatment to animals!

http://www.neurosoup.com/jain.gif

I loved the foundation Ahimsa upholds that “man attains peace by injuring no living creature” (Anthology 235) because it is something which I truly believe. I do not think it is possible for someone who harms animals to complete in any way. If someone is capable and comfortable of consciously harming animals with no remorse, then they must view at least some people in a contemptuous manner. I don’t think someone can look an animal in the face, observe their way of life, and conclude that there is nothing there OR conclude that their life doesn’t matter in some way. To harm a sentient being, then, requires the same mindset at some level as harming a person. One leads to the other and multiplies the effects. I think it’s important, then, that the concept of ahimsa includes fair treatment of all living beings (although I wasn’t sure if this included plants...). When people are encouraged to love all beings, how can they not love all people? It is also necessary that we are kind to all beings in order to promote a sense of unity and peace (which can never be bad, can it?)

http://www.animalearthhuman.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2007/11/sentientbeings.jpg

Ahimsa encourages its followers to be kind to all sentient beings.

I liked the other ‘bits and pieces’ of Ahimsa too. Ahimsa does not solely concern bodily harm to other creatures but emotional harm as well and negative energy toward people and living beings. Those wishing to practice Ahimsa are suggested to begin by restraining from bodily harm and speaking harsh words first because it is “extremely difficult to control such thoughts from the very beginning without having recourse to control of the body and speech first.” (Anthology 237) The concepts of Ahimsa are only unusual in their extremity: it should be apparent that we need to treat people with respect, to not speak to people harshly or rudely. But it is radically more demanding than what we are used to; indeed it “is not possible without fearlessness.” (Anthology 236) I think it’s important that those who are aware of Ahimsa, us, for example, now that we are aware of it, should try to practice its concepts as often as we can. We can’t expect ourselves to all pick it up and begin to practice Ahimsa immediately, although some would say “Why not?” but we can practice. After all, “you may fail a hundred times. What does it matter?” (Anthology 237)
We talked about the problems of the Western form of compassion today in class, so I thought I’d say what I had been thinking some of those problems are. What Emily said in class made a lot of sense. I feel like a lot of the ways that Christianity “promotes” charity is by bribing in a sense—do this and you’ll get into heaven—or even by fear—don’t be good, and you’ll go to Hell. While I can see how that would inspire the masses to do good works, it ultimately does not provide the right mindset. In a way it’s similar to the “give a man a fish” idiom: Christianity may produce good works, but it may not entirely cause people to produce them continuously and on their own—of their own free will (which is, of course, a very important concept in Christianity!) An example of the lack of self-motivation which sometimes accompanies “Christians” is in Jude the Obscure: Jude stands where his clacking instrument is “echoing from the brand-new church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for God and man.” (Anthology 227) The irony in that statement—that a man who had beaten Jude so terribly could “love” God—is surely intended. Furthermore, another problem I have with compassion is its inconsideration for other forms of life. The Slaughterer presents a very exaggerated example of the turmoil people can feel when they slaughter animals. When people are trained to live with compassion, I don’t honestly believe that they can overlook the trauma we cause animals. I think we’ve suppressed the feelings we truly feel when we harm animals in order to protect ourselves and that perhaps the absence of compassion for animals in Judeo-Christian faiths is evidence of that. It’s easier to live off of meat, and it’s much easier to live that way if animals are nothing more than food. These faiths are also largely absent of any consideration to the environment, and I thought that this statement was really good: “we have to understand that pollution in the environment has been caused because there had been psychological pollution within ourselves. If we want a clean environment, we have to adopt a lifestyle that springs from a moral and spiritual dimension.” (Anthology 295) To clean up our act, we literally need to do that—clean up our act. We need to change the way we think about the environment, and it seems like the Eastern mindset is more inclined to that.

I really liked reading about the Eastern beliefs. I feel like the two important concepts I get out of them which are unique are humility and interconnectedness. Maybe this is unfounded, but I feel like the Eastern religions are much more unassuming. Their beliefs cannot be “borrowed as a back-up prop,” (Anthology 253) as the Christian god often is to justify immoral actions. They don’t advertise as much. I believe that this means that more of those who profess to Eastern belief traditions follow them on their own accord. This ties to another idea I have that Eastern religions enforce humility. They don’t profess that their way is the only way as much as Western faiths do: for example, “Confucianism does not conflict with any religion.” (Anthology 254) I also think that the eastern religions promote interconnectedness, which as I’ve said before is essential to treating all things and people kindly.

Confucius' teachings do not conflict with religions.

http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g247/Gretchana/confucious.jpg

Lent and Compassion

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1d0TG4hnNRs
What is Lent? By the Archbishop of Canterbury who looks like Bump. (Kinda?)

I’m glad that this DB topic came about during Lent because I’ve really needed to make a better Lenten promise. Usually I give up as much as I can for Lent: candy, sweets, Coke, every kind of food really that isn’t bland or necessary. I piled it all up as the weeks progressed, and people used to be impressed. But I never have been really because I know deep down that it’s all primarily false. Let me let you in on a little secret...I don’t even have a sweet tooth! I mean, I like candy, but it’s not a big deal to have to give it up for a little over a month. Each year I try to think of something positive to do or something really hard to give up for Lent, but I never get there. I think it’s selfishness or the mistaken belief that for the most part I’ve got everything down right.
I remember one year when I was very little, lying down on the couch in the TV room, holding onto my ripped-to-shreds blanket like I always did and whispering softly to my mom, “Mom, I think I’m going to give up Blankie for Lent.” By that point I had tears in my eyes, the idea of leaving my blankie for a month too much to bear. My mom told me that I couldn’t possible give up my blankie, that she was good for me and I settled down and gave up something else, undoubtedly sweets. While my understanding of Lent was a little skewed at that point, I wish I could be like that today! If Jesus could give so completely that he gave his entire self, saying “This is my body which is given for you.” (Anthology 132), why is it so hard for me to try to do something a little difficult? I should live Lent with the complete “remembrance of [Him]” instead. (Anthology 132) But what can I really do?

I wish I still had the ability to give up "the Blankies" of my life today.

http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A9G_bDsluIFLpR0AExejzbkF/SIG=12ck6pqv5/EXP=1266878885/**http%3a//www.shoptadpole.com/Detail.asp%3fID=6453%26CID=30

Ash Wednesday service and the period of Lent are some of my favorite Christian concepts. I think the idea is so beautiful. I love the idea of so many people trying to better themselves at once, with sacrifice and the greater good in mind. What I don’t love is that people complete their “tasks” with the end of Lent in mind. I know I’m like that: the second Easter started I dove into my Easter basket and ordered Coke after Coke in restaurants. (Usually realizing that I didn’t like any of that “stuff” anymore.) I read in my cultural anthropology textbook (and I’m going to paraphrase) that the imagery of Christ and God changes over time to fit the cultures of the people. When we were primarily rural pastoralists, we knew Christ as the Lamb of God, when we were peasants and serfs, he was the “King” and now we may think of him as the accountant, tabulating our moral gains and losses with black and red ink. While it’s important to be aware of right and wrong, we shouldn’t live life trying to “stay out of debt,” so to speak. We should act with compassion throughout all of our daily actions. Jesus was often met with people in need of compassion: his good works weren’t scheduled into His day but came to Him naturally and He responded invariably to come to their aid. “When the Lord saw [the mother of a dead son] he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.” (Anthology 130) As I said in my P3 (and I’m surprised once again to see the same issues continually popping up), we should act with a compassionate impulse and respond to those we encounter as Christ would do—without a schedule and with the love of charity and compassion in our hearts.
So with that in mind, I’m going to try to reestablish my Lenten goals. No candy, sweets or Coke (even though I’m eyeing some Sour Patch Straws my mom just sent me this week!) Then, because I’m having a hard time thinking seriously about this because I’m so tired, I will try to treat my body better. Eight hours of sleep a day. Exercise. Getting at least 36 grams of protein a day. Giving myself time to relax and compose myself at least once a day. I will complete most of my work alone in my room so I can do them quickly and to the best of my ability. And no going on stupid websites like awkwardfamilyphotos.com so I can make much better use of my time! (That one’s actually going to be pretty tricky.) That set of promises may not seem like a sacrifice, but I’ve realized that I can’t operate the way I want to and often have much less “room” for others when I’m tired. Finally, and I’m still not clear how to do this, but I just want to practice compassion—intensely—for at least part of the day everyday. Vegetarianism can be one such practice. After all, as Webb argues the Church even recognizes that “eating meat was not an appropriate way of remembering the vivid and brutal death of Jesus.” (Anthology 135) I will try to drop everything I’m doing and thinking of at least once a day to help somebody else, whether that is with homework, doing favors or just lending them an ear. I’m not sure how I want to achieve this ‘total compassion’ routine, but I hope that by at least being open and conscious of the role of compassion in my life and others’ I will be able to make a difference in the lives of those around me. At least for 40 days.

Minus the sarcasm which I think this shirt is trying to have, this will be my Lenten promise!

http://rlv.zcache.com/drop_everything_to_fix_your_problem_tshit_tshirt-p235720077884918133trlf_400.jpg

Nature and Christianity

I was interested to read through this week’s anthology primarily because it contained ideas that I had thought about before. Apart from most of the “hot topics” (excluding the death penalty), the biggest problem I have always had with the Church was its treatment and consideration of animals and the environment. I believe, like Lynn White suggested in the Ecology article, that the Judeo-Christian emphasis on the “transcendence of God above nature and the dominion of humans over nature has led to a devaluing of the natural world and a subsequent destruction of its resources.” (Anthology 28)

I never fully accepted the idea of stewardship: basically that the Earth is ours but we should take care of it. (Although it's not bad!)

http://www.bne.catholic.net.au/data/portal/00005057/0000/005/078/content/61961001172448723578.jpg

If anything, this mindset may be irreconcilable with my world views and is driving me away from the Church. I never liked that animals “didn’t have souls” when I was younger and have now concluded that if any living thing has a soul, every living creature must. I also am uncomfortable with the notion of “stewardship.” While I understand that this is an important principle which reconciles proper treatment of the environment with a mindset which doesn’t always make the need for taking care of the environment apparent, I think it ultimately creates the wrong thinking. (I wrote a little bit about this in my P2.) While the word “stewardship” implies servitude, the notion itself is more like a caretaker providing for its property. This creates the idea that nature is unintelligent and incapable of providing for itself, that if we weren’t on the planet, nature may be having a very hard time...when in fact we are the ones causing all the problems! Stewardship also reinforces the idea of a natural hierarchy that “humankind is superior to animals, animals to plants, plants to inanimate.” (Anthology 30) The notion of a hierarchy is unhealthy and encourages us to take license as the dominant beings of the planet—a spiritual get out of jail free pass. While those acting under the principle of stewardship are doing good by helping the environment and its creatures, the idea of stewardship itself is dangerous, enabling people to believe that “every moving thing that liveth shall be meat for [us]” as long as we treat it relatively compassionately before we eat it. (Anthology 117B)

The Church still has consideration for nature. St. Francis of Assisi is my favorite saint (and Frances my confirmation name!) because of his love of animals.

http://www.religious.marksanislo.com/gallery/pg2/oils/st_francis_tn.jpg

But I didn’t intend to make this DB entirely about criticizing the Catholic conception of environment. My careful reading of the Bible’s creation story in Genesis was particularly interesting through an environmental perspective. Initially God provides “all the wild beasts and all the birds of heaven” to Adam because “It is not good that the man should be alone.” (Anthology 115) He intends the animals and creatures of the Earth to be man’s company. I thought this was a very important point when compared to God’s later treatment of the serpent after his deception. God says to the serpent that he will make man and the serpent “enemies of each other” and that future humans will “crush [serpents’] head[s]” while future snakes “will strike [humans’] heel[s].” (Anthology 117A) Animals have gone from man’s comfort and companions to his enemies in one story! I thought that in some ways the tree of knowledge could represent the realities of human existence. Humans and most other creatures have been forced to kill each other for their entire existence when it would obviously be more peaceful to live, Eden-like, in harmony with one another. While it wasn’t right to villianize the snake throughout history because of this passage, the story of Genesis just shows that animals and humans cannot always be “friends.” But another important point we can get from this story is that they can be friends.

Snakes are something to watch out for, but they're still beautiful animals that don't deserve the "bad reputation" they've been given!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/7605380@N08/2982881861/

Other readings reveal a similar longing to be united. In Isaiah, “the lion shall eat straw like the ox” and “the wolf also shall dwell with the lamb.” (Anthology 118) Similarly Virgil’s fourth eclogue tells the tale of a utopian world where nature willingly and peacefully provides for people and other creatures, where the “she-goats then bring home/their udders swollen with milk, while flocks afield/ shall of the monstrous lion have no fear.” (Anthology 124) While many of us, myself included, may think that Western religions have little interest in the environment, there are obvious cases where we are encouraged to think of an ideal natural world. Perhaps this imagery will encourage people to work toward such a situation and lessen the negative impact we have on our environment.

Most images of "utopia" bring up some sort of connection to nature. This one shows an ideal world integrated with nature and humanity.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/leeloosu/392062965/in/set-72157594243010068

Faith

I don’t really like talking about faith and religion because everyone has those sneaking and uncomfortable suspicions that they’d rather not think about, but I’ll just write the DB Mr. Okamoto would have liked to read, something more straightforward.

***

I’m not sure if Life of Pi is a book that will make you believe in God. Faith surely, but not God. Pi needed to find some sort of greater power: it kept him alive. The power of having faith in something, anything, or even three religions, was hugely apparent as I was reading the last third of Life of Pi. Whether you draw strength from God, love or nature, we all need something to have complete faith and trust in. Lauren described one such faith as faith in a better tomorrow. While I know that I have always tried to have faith in God or the saints—and have always held a certain affinity for Mary—it doesn’t always, or usually, fall through. One thing that I am certain of, however, is a faith in nature, something that I noticed throughout the book.

Throughout Pi’s ordeal, I noticed that nature served a similar—if not the same—purpose as religion or at least could answer the same questions. Pi himself even explains the power the green algae had by relating it to Islam: “Green is a lovely color. It is the color of Islam. It is my favorite color.” (Martel 257) He also describes the beach that he lands on in Mexico as a, “beach like the cheek of God.” (Martel 285) By comparing religion to nature, Martel seems to underline the pervasiveness and innate nature of “religion,” a sense of something greater out there.

Religion, or at least the idea of it, seems to exist in nature itself. The sparse physical elements of the lifeboat—and of the story itself—pare down the issue of faith and existence to its elements. Pi lived as an animal, as we were perhaps intended to live, and survived. He received enjoyment and hope through natural elements alone—the schools of fish, lightening, the algae island—and was strengthened by them. He could have survived by an appreciation of nature as it is, had he had greater faith in it. But Pi chose to survive by faith in God.

The green algae island, a "natural" occurence, had a profound effect on Pi.

http://www.green-island.com.au/images/gallery/GreenIsland9.jpg

The point—which I have been circling around for enough time now—is that Pi didn’t need faith in God to survive but faith in something. It doesn’t matter whether Pi’s trust in God was unfounded or just in his head. The importance of his faith is that it got him out alive.

Although Pi could have survived by a trust and understanding of nature alone, he needed to hold onto something, to believe in wonder, in something, like love, which is “hard to believe.” (Martel 297). Dillard also expresses an unspoken need for wonder and shies away from familiarity when she talks about fecundity, writing "Fecundity is an ugly word for an ugly subject. It is ugly at least, in the eggy animal world. I don't think it is for plants." (Dillard 27) Dillard is disgusted by the reproduction of animals, organisms which she can understand (as she is one), but can still appreciate the reproduction of plants--an element of wonder. When Mr. Okomoto questions him about his seemingly-unbelievable story, Pi replies, “isn’t just looking into the world already an invention?” (Martel 302) In some way, we all need to invent part of the world, interpret it, and not just see it. We have to see the world in such a way that it creates our “better story.” So for Pi it’s religion. And for me I hope it’s some sort of optimism and a trust and appreciation of nature. To some religion is an invention, something that others use to see their world. To others it is the world and governs how it functions. And all others fall in between. The notion of religion is inescapable. It is within us.

The situation of religion and faith is hazy, but its function is clear. Religion, in a sort of paradox, is natural. The need for some sort of presence or understanding of the world with greater complexity is necessary. Pi found his faith through religion, but there are many other paths. This book underlined the ever-present force of faith.

Faith is naturally present and necessary thing.

http://www.johnanning.com/images/faith.jpg

On a Boat

**Disclaimer: The page numbers are going to be way off because I have a different version of the book. Also, I had a lot of different things that I wanted to write about, so this DB’s just going to be a big, largely unconnected jumble! **

Once again I was taken in by Martel’s attention to detail. Had he consulted marine biologists, survival experts, fisherman, biologists...? Or were we being tricked once again as a master storyteller? Nevertheless, and whether fact or fiction, the realism of Martel’s highly fantastical story causes any reader to put his or herself in Pi’s shoes and ask themselves how they would have acted in his situation.

1. What would I hold onto at sea? What would I think about to fill the space and retain my sanity? My family surely and my friends. I think more than anything we would all hang onto the past, especially when you aren’t sure of (or whether) you will have a future. The past is both rewarding and full of deeper things to think about—the only way really to escape the lifeboat and the ever-extending sea. I’d think about happy moments, and sad, mistakes, lost opportunities and great accomplishments. I’d try as hard as I could to understand myself and how everything in my life fit together. But as much as you’d need it at a time like this, no man is an island. The loneliness would be the hardest force to bear at sea. I’d think more about the people and even animals in my life. In delirious states, I’d probably imagine they were all with me. I think the experience on a lifeboat would strengthen my feelings for how important people and company are in our lives.

http://www.cedu.niu.edu/~shernoff/djs/kara_jenski/adolescence_files/image003.jpg

I would probably think alot about family and the people in my life while at sea.

2. I also thought about how interesting it was the impact natural phenomena and other distractions had on keeping Pi alive and appreciating life. The images Martel talks about sound like they would be beautiful and incredible to anyone, but they mean so much to Pi—not only to break up the terrible monotony of his life in the lifeboat but to reaffirm a sense that life is worth living. I thought the description of the “fish” city was particularly interesting, the “evanescent trails of phosphorescent green bubbles, the wake of speeding fish,” “like those time-exposure photographs you see of cities at night.” (Martel 176) While Richard Parker was scared later when he and Pi witnessed the lightening storm, Pi almost couldn’t take the excitement he felt and shouted, “This is miracle. This is an outbreak of divinity. This is...this is...” (Martel 233)It is whenever we are outside our element, whether in nature on vacation or just in a new place in general, that we truly become opened to the world around us and appreciate what it truly is. Perhaps we could try like Pi to see the world past our routines, to appreciate the little things, the great things—the moments of wonder.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fzT6ifrhL8

Pi made eye contact with a giant whale on the lifeboat too. This natural wonder also served as a connection to other lifeforms.




3. I also got the sense during this class’ reading about how things change and how they don’t at the same time. Pi wept over the first fish he killed, weeping “heartily over the first being he killed.” (Martel 183) But later he eats ‘like an animal,’ just like Richard Parker in fact tearing into his prey and eating every bit he can. While Pi’s animal instincts kicked in, and he changed from the sweet vegetarian peace-loving boy from Pondicherry, I think he still has an appreciation for life and the creatures he is now consuming. There is a certain beauty in Pi’s existence, surviving off of the lives he is forced to exploit. Pi is living life as Richard Parker would, and I think with the respect he showed for all life in his previous-Pondicherry life, he can truly appreciate what the fish and turtles had sacrificed for him.

http://photos.3scape.net/photo/7818/School_of_Pennant_Fish_(Banner_Fish).jpg

As much as Pi had trouble fishing, I'm sure he appreciated the fish for allowing him to live!

Blake, Harrigan and Hopkins

After I finished today’s reading I was a little confused. It may have to do with the fact that I woke up this morning to “one of those days,” and I wasn’t quick to see Blake and Hopkins’ poems and Harrigan’s account of a zookeeper being killed by a tiger as perfect examples for maintaining a “pro-active, positive attitude” (Course website) and being brought to the One or any other sort of presence. So I had to sit for a long time—grumpily I may add—and try to make some sort of connection. And I kept saying to myself, “What does all this have to do with anything? It’s all just talking about nature!” And of course, for someone who professes to being connected to and highly influenced by nature, this statement should bring me right to the answer: an answer which, after all, is “never the answer,” and is perhaps only an opportunity to accept a mystery. In a sort of paradox, I associate nature, at least on paper, as an object absent of any supernatural forces or mysticism, a pure biological force. And any “Wow factor” I get from nature—the sight of an incredibly blue lake, for example—I would attribute as an incredible and overpowering testament to nothing else but life, not necessarily some other sort of being. But it’s the sense of purity that nature has that can truly unify us all—that can serve as “the sense of the Presence, the Force, the One, the sacred, whatever in this world.” (Course website) Nature has no hidden agenda: it is what it is. Everything that operates within nature follows its rules—except for us it seems. I would argue that what we need for explanations and for a sense of wonder and mystery is a return to nature.

Adam and Eve is an example of what was humanity's most innocent time, when they lived peacefully in nature. After Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge they were introduced to sin (and perhaps entered into the world of experience?) This is actually Blake's rendition.

http://biblioklept.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/blake_satan_adam_eve.jpg?w=400&h=524

I learned a little about Blake in high school by reading parts of the Songs of Innocence and the Songs of Experience. Blake wrote a lot about the loss of innocence. In “The Lamb” for example, our teacher pointed out that like the lamb who is led to slaughter, children are brought up to grow, change and die in the adult realm of experience. It is ultimately a depressing notion, but Blake’s religious language reminds us that there is a way out: resurrection and a return to life through Christ. (I’ve mentioned before that I’m not quite sure how I feel about religion. I’m not even sure that I like the idea of heaven, so I’m going to leave the religious out of my DB for now. I don’t feel I could do that argument justice.) Another “way out” is embracing nature and attempting to really understand it and our place there. In this way, we can help dispel our fears, through greater understanding.

Take tigers at the zoo for example. “[T]hey grow more alert than most people would care to realize when children pass before their gaze.” (Harrigan, 154) When I was little I would have thought it was “so cool” that the tiger was paying me so much attention: “Look, Mom! He’s watching me! We’re friends!” But now, knowing that the tiger was stalking me, as its prey, I would naturally feel uneasy and look away. Obviously it’s not wise to live a naïve life, but wasn’t the innocent life better? As knowledge chipped away at our innocence, so can it be used to achieve a greater understanding and give us back the sense of trust and contentment we felt in the world of innocence. By understanding that the tiger is “just being a tiger,” (Harrigan, 155) we can understand that danger is simply natural and that not everything need be perfect and safe. The same may be applied to people: some people have just “been snarly ever since [they were] cub[s].” (Harrigan, 151) By accepting nature as it is, we can lower our own expectations and be content with what is. We can treat people we can’t get along with with the understanding that that’s just who they are and approach them with a sense of acceptance.

It's interesting how our perception of the tiger changes over time.

http://www.davidbjack.com/Bengal_Tiger_Stalking.jpg

Blake’s poem “The Tiger” is related to this issue. “The Tiger,” a poem in the Songs of Experience serves as a parallel to “The Lamb” which is found in the Songs of Innocence. Both involve the issue of creation and existence, although with recognizably different undertones. Blake is wrestling with the presence of evil and destruction in a world created by God, asking, “Did He who made the lamb make thee?” (Blake 146) Blake creates the sense of the tiger as an unnatural object, being created by “the hammer,” “the chain,” “the furnace,” and “the anvil” (Blake 146) and has a hard time reconciling the world of the lamb and one which would have a tiger: the realms of innocence and experience. Ultimately, however, I think we must accept forces like the tiger and the lamb equally. They are both here, and nature gives preference to neither. In accepting that there are less-than-perfect forces in the world, we can come closer to seeing the world as it truly is and not be caught up by what it ought to be. With recognition of what we would consider life’s flaws and an appreciation of nature and life itself, I think we can truly come closer to the idea of complete trust in the universe we felt when we still lived in the world of the “innocent.”

Hopkins' "The Windhover," provides some insight into a creature which is so completely entrenched within nature that it can use it to its advantage. The Windhover (which I didn't at first realize was exactly as it sounds) is a bird which has the ability to hover in midair and rides the air currents like a stallion, "a dapple-drawn." (Hopkins, 159) Hopkins speaks of the bird with reverence and describes the birds "ecstasy" (Hopkins 159) and how Hopkins' "heart in hiding/ Stirred for a bird" (Hopkins 159) upon watching it in flight. The short and oddly indented lines indicate some of the excitement Hopkins felt upon observing this outstanding natural phenomenon. Although Hopkins meant this poem to have a religious meaning, (he dedicated it, in fact, "To Christ our Lord." (Hopkins 159)) there's also a natural one. The windhover can teach us how much nature serves as a helping force. While humans tend to regard nature as a somewhat primitive force to avoid, it serves quite well for the rest of Earth's inhabitants.


Finally, Hopkins’ poem, “The Sea and the Skylark,” speaks somewhat about what we are missing as we turn away from nature. The poem initially describes the sounds of the sea and the skylark (big surprise), “two noises too old to end” (Hopkins 159) and then notes how these two noises, “shame this shallow and frail town,” (Hopkins 159) how the life of the people pales in comparison to the connection to nature and pure life that the skylark and sea have maintained. We “have lost that cheer and charm of earth’s past prime” (Hopkins 159) and our practices harm not only ourselves and our own well-being but the world around us: “our make and making break...” (Hopkins 159) The slight change in Hopkins’ language between the very rhythmical and alliterative first two stanzas and the more subdued language of the last two emphasizes that fact: we have lost something in leaving nature. Hopkins poem is a reminder of the power, beauty and completeness of nature and the harm we are doing to ourselves by leaving it.

Perhaps this is the sort of town Hopkins had in mind.

http://www.fresno.k12.ca.us/divdept/sscience/images/industrialization.jpg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wcdVL9ya6uE

This is a preview of what seems to be a very interesting special (aired a couple of years ago!) about what nature can teach us.