Angels On The Moon

 These blog questions have been getting more and more personal as the weeks go on…sorry but I’m not feeling it. Alone is dark. Alone is empty. Alone is scary. Alone is real and I can’t tell such a real story through such fake means. I can’t tell my story to a computer screen. I can’t share intimate moments with you. Do you even care? I doubt it.

What I can do, is share an experience where I’ve had to portray feelings of loneliness, desperation, and solidarity. Naturally, this portrayal was through dance. Last year for the Guys and Dolls show (this year it’s on February 2^nd at 7 and it’s going to be amazing, so come out and support because we’re fierce) I was in a dance where Nica, our choreographer, wanted to tell a story using us. Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? That was basically the theme of the dance. Four people, all reflections of each other and all feeling alone. But of course when we’re alone we feel so isolated that instead of reaching out to others we reject the idea that anyone else could be feeling the exact same way. Therefore we retreat even more deeply into ourselves and lose the chance to relate to others. My “reflection”/ partner in the dance was Jocelyne. I danced with her doing the same movements at the same time but without realizing that there was another person there. And when I realized it, I became shocked at the notion that there could be someone out there who felt alone too.

Later in the dance, there was a part where I had to break free from the bubble of isolation and reach out to the other dancers. After dancing a solo, I had to run back to the others and let them know that they weren’t alone. I was their angel on the moon. The lyrics in the song at that point were “This is for all of us.” And it really was. It was for the dancers, for Nica, for the team, for everyone in the audience who had ever felt alone, and it was for you.

At first this was all choreographed. The expressions of shock, disbelief, fear, and hope were all things that Nica had told me to do, and so I did. But after a while, it became more than choreography and suddenly I wasn’t just telling a story of loneliness, I was telling my story.

I Know This Means Something

Is enjoyment enough to give one’s life meaning? I think so. So if you’re asking me what is something in my life that means something to me, you could just as easily be asking me what I like to do. But can that same thing have a deeper philosophical context? Sure.

Archery. Before I even continue, do not even start with the Katniss jokes. I do not try to be the Mockingjay. I’m not running around trying to save the citizens of Panem. I did not start shooting because of those books or that movie.  I started shooting 3 years ago, while in Virginia, because the opportunity presented itself, and archery was always somethig I had wanted to try. The mythology intertwined with archery is lovely, but it still carries a combative and sinister underlying tone.  

After trying it that summer in Virginia, I learned how beautiful it could be. When I returned to Chicago, I immediately started searching for a local range, and I found one. The range I go to is about 9 miles away from my house, but it happens to be the only indoor range in the city and the drive is completely worth it.

It started off as a few classes a month, then I joined a league, then I got my own bow and arrows, then my dad set up a target for me in my backyard, and soon I was competing and shooting at stray raccoons in my free time. Now I’m going to the range once a week, at least, and practice outside whenever the weather is nice(and oftentimes even when it isn’t). It is not just a hobby anymore, but it is not exactly a lifestyle either. Now it’s just a part of who I am. An archer.

Archery is simple. Load, pull, aim, repeat. If the shot is bad, all I have to do is keep trying until I figure out what needs to physically be changed. But archery comes with its complexities too. While I’m shooting it is as if I feel exactly what archery means to me as I hold the bow. The tension I feel while pulling back the string is more than just physical. It represents all archery has taught me and I feel all those little lessons accumulate into something greater that is waiting to be released. When the shot is finally released, it’s bliss. An arrow straight to the heart.

You're Not Golden(Direction This Class Should Take)

I don't think I can answer this question without saying something mean. I've tried patience. That didn't work. 

One of our first assignments was to read that thing in the "about philosophy" book. Did anyone do that? Seriously. One of the most important things that was in that chapter basically said that philosophy is difficult. It's difficult to learn about and it's probably even more difficult to teach. It’s rare that people will completely agree on what is being said. Anyways, the book said that to combat the chaos that the class could turn into was to have discussions and not arguments. I think what some people (you know who you are) in our class forget is that you don't have to win. You don't have to win because the class is not about you. We're all just here trying to develop and share our thoughts. And the truth is that no one really knows so no matter how zealously you defend your opinion, you could still be wrong. Instead of trying to be right all the time what you need to do is sit down and listen. Listen to what is being said and instead of trying to argue about it, just think about it. Let it marinate in your mind and lead you to new ideas. I can guarantee that everyone in the class would benefit more if we didn’t have to sit through numerous angry tirades. I'm glad you have so much passion about what you believe in...but calm down. 

You don’t have to be so LOUD. 

The Election

This is probably the worst blog question we’ve had so far. It deals with other people and it is way strange thinking for them. I have to guess Camus’s and Voltaire’s choices based on their writing and philosophies and the characters we’ve read about…ick.

Anyway Voltaire and Camus are voting for…no one. That’s right. Both men probably wouldn’t vote at all. Voltaire finds happiness in simplicity. In Candide Voltaire’s ending advice is to be content tending your garden. I think that he’d stay true to his own advice and be content in his garden without worrying about the world around him. This means that he would sit back, let the election happen, and deal with the results, whatever they may be. Also in Candide, Voltaire constantly demonstrates his disgust for politics and rulers. Governments are corrupt, man is evil and I doubt Voltaire would think that voting in an election would change that.

Camus is a bit harder to think for. His absurdist view on the meaning of life is tricky. There may be meaning, but there may not. So how who would he decide to vote for? Would he vote at all? Possibly he may think that his vote matters but more than likely he’d see no point in voting.

Don't Let Anyone Put You In A Box

Life has meaning.

No matter which way you choose to look at it, that is what I believe in. The very fact that I am alive means something. Have you ever thought about how amazing the single action of living is? I’m a medicine/science geek so the many abilities of the human body are mind-blowing to me. I have knowledge of words and I can make them represent something and I can sit here and type and my fingers do what I tell them and you on the other side of that screen, you’re reading what I’m saying and you can hear me even though I’m not physically there. Maybe I shouldn’t be so excited about a simple task, but I am. It’s extravagant.

 I think the question associated with this topic that I wonder about the most is will my life mean anything after I die? I do not know and I do not care. The fact that in the end, my life may not accumulate to anything does not discourage me. It does not matter whether or not I’ll mean anything after I’m gone because my life has meaning now. The possibility that in the grand scheme of things my life may mean nothing is completely fine. Within my personal life, I’m creating an entire world. I will fill my life with whatever I want it to include and I will give meaning to the things I like doing. Why? Simply because I can. The fact that I can give my life meaning means something. Some people give their lives more meaning than others and that’s fine. The very beauty of life is that you can choose what you do with it.

Candide's Punishments, Do They Fit His Crimes?

Candide has had some bad luck, to say the least. His life has been in danger numerous times and despite all he's been through he still doesn't have the girl. His lovely Cunegonde belongs to another man and there's not much he can do about it. Does Candide deserve all of the perils he's had to endure? It all depends on his crimes, but what are his crimes? Candide isn't a saint, he causes his fair share of evil throughout the book. But where does it all start? What is the first crime he commits? That would take us all the way back to his paradise. When he was first living with the Baron and Cunegonde. The first crime he commits is his relations with Cunegonde. All that happens to Candide afterwards is essentially because of that one act. So does Candide deserve being...wait. The better question is, what have Candide's punishments been? In every situation he's been in Candide has been able to land on his feet and sometimes in an even better position than he was before. Sure, there have been moments where his life has been threatened, but at the end of it all he's okay. When he's about to be shot by the Bulgars, the King of the Bulgars saves him. When Candide is almost boiled and eaten by "savages", he and Cacambo are able to talk their way out of it. Despite being robbed of his sheep, he gets them and their value back and ends up in Paris. During the auto-da-fe, his life is saved and he is reunited with Cunegonde.

So no. Candide's punishments do not fit his crimes. Candide has killed 3 men...and he got away with every one of his murders. I don't doubt that Candide has been punished, he certainly has. But his punishments don't coincide with his crimes.

how do you know what you know?

Answering this question could get very confusing very quickly. There's the argument that I don't know what I know and that I never really will. That what I think I know is actually a lie. But I don't think that's true. Not completely. 

I don’t think that there are ever behaviors or ideas that I just know. Everything I know has been learned. I’ve picked up lessons from the people I’ve been surrounded by, the experiences I’ve had, the questions I’ve asked, and the mistakes I’ve made. This consumption of knowledge happens gradually and that’s why kids stay kidlike for a long time. But eventually it happens and that’s why we grow up.

Everything that I’ve said so far has been on a broad spectrum. Narrowing it down may be even more confusing…but I’m going to try it anyway. If I wanted to narrow down exactly how I know the things that I know I’d say it’s from experience, and therefore from observation, and therefore from patterns.

I see life as a giant mess of patterns. Some patterns are composed of only a few elements, others go on for ages, and others are strung together coherently in a line. My favorite type of patterns are the circular ones. Chains of events and circumstances that link together to form causes and effects and causes and effects and so on and so forth. I learn from these by observing what happens. Testing out different decisions and paths to see where they lead me. Maybe I’ll end up at the beginning of the same circle or maybe I’ll find myself in the midst of an entirely new one. Who knows and who cares. Whatever happens, at least I’ll learn something.

There are some people who would be glad to be free of the circles. I’m not one of them. I live for circles and for patterns. I live in them. The more I learn, the greater my circles grow and the greater my circles grow the more I learn.

Movers and Shakers

The Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living? 

Worth. That’s a word that carries so much weight. In our society worth is determined in countless ways, which makes achieving it so much harder. How does one achieve a life that has value? Money, family, self-respect, gaining the respect of others, professional developments…the list could go on and on. I can’t answer this question without defining that word. Worth. And I don’t agree with any of those definitions either. So, I’ll make my own.

A life worth living means acceptance. Not a passive or submissive type of acceptance, but a progressive one. Sure, this is a contradiction, but that’s okay because most things in life are. Think about it. Progressive acceptance. It makes sense. It means understanding something and accepting it as truth, while still working to change it for the better. And as it changes, more acceptance and understanding is required, which makes the whole thing a grand process. When that starts happening is when life gains value. But acceptance can’t just happen. That’d be meaningless. To accept truth, it has to be examined from every possible angle. It has to be analyzed, critiqued, and seriously questioned. For a life to be worth living, acceptance has to happen, meaning that the truth has to be examined. That’s the only way.

I’ve thought about this. My ideas may not be clear and my words are definitely clumsy. It’s hard to understand, but it’s definitely possible. I’ve examined this. Have you?

Gadfly

That’s such a weird word. So I’m going to use another word that to me, has the same meaning. Shaker. 

“We are the music-makers, 


And we are the dreamers of dreams, 


Wandering by lone sea-breakers, 


And sitting by desolate streams. 


World-losers and world-forsakers, 


Upon whom the pale moon gleams; 


Yet we are the movers and shakers, 


Of the world forever, it seems.”

 – from “We Are the Music-Makers” by Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy

This poem says it all. Shakers are the minority in our society and commonly oppressed out of fear. Why fear Shakers? Because of what a Shaker does. A Shaker is a person who ruffles the feathers of the flock and dares to fly the other way. Shakers examine life and propose change. Shakers set things in motion. 

My Eulogy

Leslie did not really know who she was. Not completely at least. Leslie knew this and she valued it. The idea that she was still growing, the idea that she always would grow and learn. The idea that each day shaped her life, her thoughts, her feelings, and her beliefs. Leslie was not afraid to crash through life. She made big jumps. Of course there were times when she stumbled and failed, but that’s just how things work. Leslie’s knowledge that she was still figuring herself out made it easy for her to make mistakes. It even made the mistakes in her life valuable, as long as she learned something from them.

Even though Leslie was still figuring herself out, she knew who she was and where she was going. It is a paradoxical idea, but it’s true. She moved with the rhythm of her soul. She was who she wanted to be. She was shaped by her experiences and by the people she surrounded herself with while still maintaining a strong sense of self. One of Leslie’s favorite quotes was “those that were seen dancing were thought insane by those that could not hear the music,” and she applied that idea to her everyday life. “Dancing” as herself, both literally and figuratively.

Leslie started taking dance classes when she was only 3 years old. Her dedication took her many places and taught her values that could only be learned in the studio. Her love for dance was altered through the years, but it always prevailed. Leslie was a dancer in the truest sense. She used her body to convey ideas when words failed.

One of the most important things about Leslie’s life was that she did not live it for spectacle. Her life was balanced, without being mundane. Elegant without being flashy. Leslie was a constant shimmer of rhythm and that’s how she will always remain.