Nature & Catholicism

Hello again.

It is green and comfortable here. I skyped earlier with my friend Joseph from St. Andrews and it was the most wonderful and bittersweet conversation. He skyped from where we lived and I gave him a brief outdoor tour of Vermont. Hearing him and seeing him there brought every memory back and when familiar workers from our residence hall walked by in the background, it was the nicest yet strangest sensation of being where I was for so long yet not being there physically at all.

Last night after work I visited Northfield, Vermont briefly. I weeded with a family member, fed cows, tasted sugar snap peas and rolled away a 35 year-old wire fence to be put away for the winter. The sky, distant hills and peaceful outdoor sounds of July were beautiful.

 

 

I'm currently reading 'Almost Catholic' by Jon M. Sweeny. Sweeny, a born Protestant-now-Catholic-Thelogian focuses on the mystery and traditions woven into the Catholic faith. As I continually question and explore my own following of the Catholic faith, Sweeny provides insight and meaning into what Catholicism is at its core. A few of my favorite passages:

 

'To be Catholic is to live in the largest of all possible worlds. This includes spanning time, reorienting space and changing within. The Catholic imagination reaches back to the catacombs when Christians first began to seek faith mediated hrough symbol, art, sacrament scripture and the mystical oneness of community.'

 

'Two millenia of saints and practices and teachings and mystery form a golden string that connects us to our beginnings. These paths are very much about the future as they illuminate our past.'

 

'The world is all wrapped up with God; both the good and the bad, hurricanes and fair autumn sunsine, the Haitian poor and the entitled rich, spiritual doubt and religious certainty; it is all One Mystery.' 

 

Lastly, my lovely friend Charlotte from St. Andrews just had an Op-Ed published in a student magazine.  Titled 'The Royal Treatment', Charlotte explores if the life of the young Prince George is to be envied or pitied, while envisioning the societal restrictions placed upon the other 4 million births in Britain this year. It's wonderfully-put and well-written.

                            http://www.thetribeonline.com/2013/07/the-royal-treatment/ 

 

--'Some people try to spin the myth that modern Britain is now a classless society, but these statistics show otherwise. The class system rests on the simple and odious belief that some people are worth more than others, and that your personal value is based upon the purity of your blood.'

 

 

Bookstock

It was an exciting weekend! After leaving work on Friday, I picked up my friend Carly in New London, NH. Carly is originally from Austin, Texas and we met at St. Andrews. We were in the same Virginia Woolf course and Carly was the president of the Creative Writing society I was involved with. She's interning with a Cambridge, Mass. publisher for the summer and upon noticing Bookstock, a Woodstock Vermont literary festival taking place this weekend, I invited her up to spend a few days. Friday evening involved a homemade summery pizza and plenty of St. Andrews discussions. As much as I've re-adjusted to American life in the last two months and grown to a point that I'm truly happy to be here, it was still fantastic to be able to re-visit this past year with someone who was there and understands the society and culture of Scotland and St. Andrews from an American perspective.

On Saturday morning after Carly tried (and loved!) her first taste of New Hampshire maple syrup, we headed to the Bookstock literary festival.. Woodstock is about a thirty minute drive and it was so exciting to see New Hampshire and Vermont through Carly's eyes. The mountains, lakes, New Hampshire-Vermont border and small Vermont  towns were all highlights. 

Once arriving in Woodstock, we found convenient parking in the small, colonial town. The weather was beautiful and the plants and flowers in full bloom. We were armed with our schedule and as challenging as it was deciding what to attend, we selected four presentations throughout the day that sounded promising. The first, by author Joan Wickersham, was a wonderful start. Wickersham is the author of the 2012 book of short stories, The News From Spain, which was recently awarded the title of best Book of the Year by NPR.  She read an excerpt and discussed her vision of the short stories focusing on unexpressable forms of emotion and love.

After the first presentation, lunch, and some lengthy browsing of a used book sale (in which I purchased 15 books for $17!), we headed to a reading by Galway Kinnell.

This may have been one of the most memorable moments of the day. I read Galway Kinnell while taking Contemporary American Poetry through the School of English at St. Andrews this past spring. I focused on Kinnell and his poem, 'Vapor Trail Reflected in the Frog Pond' in one of my essays for the course. I think sitting in the St. Andrews library one day I learned that he lived in Vermont but upon seeing his birth year of 1927 and assuming the anthology I was using was old enough not to have included his (presumably recent)year of death, I believed him to be deceased. I was wrong. He is alive and pictured above. When I read that he would be present at Bookstock, I think it sold me to attend. Carly and I arrived to his reading in a hot children's religious education classroom and like most of Bookstock, we were the youngest participants there. By several decades. The room was full and we were encouraged to sit in the aisle. The experience of sitting on an oriental rug in a small Vermont town listening to Kinnell read his poetry took me back to reading and analyzing it in Scotland and never imagining that I would experience something like this. Kinnell read most of his recent work and I'll briefly mention that neither Carly or I were too crazy about it, but it was incredible to see how devoted he was to his work. Towards the end he read another favorite of mine (one of his classics) from my anthology which I was able to follow along with.

Later, Carly and I found a small general store and picked up bottles of blueberry sodas from Maine. From there, we found the Woodstock historical society where we attended a presentation on Vermont's influence in the Civil War. The presenter was Vermont's leading Civil War historian and he was fresh from speaking at Gettysburg earlier this month for the recent 150th anniversary. He theatrically told tales of Vermont men dying in the war or being wounded and returning home to small towns across the state.

And then, lastly, Richard Blanco. The inaugral poet.

For the last event of the day, Carly and I divided and conquered. She attended a 'writing suspense for young adult readers' workshop while I attended a reading by Blanco. Along with Galway Kinnel's presentation, this was my favorite of the day. Hearing Blanco's personal background and experiences mixed with his poems focusing on discovering his own American identity, ethnicity and sexuality was fascinating. And of course, his performance of the inaugural poem, 'One Today' was very exciting to witness in person. I've shared it in full here once before, but these opening stanzas are my favorite:

One sun rose on us today, kindled over our shores,
peeking over the Smokies, greeting the faces
of the Great Lakes, spreading a simple truth
across the Great Plains, then charging across the Rockies.
One light, waking up rooftops, under each one, a story
told by our silent gestures moving behind windows.

My face, your face, millions of faces in morning's mirrors,
each one yawning to life, crescendoing into our day:
pencil-yellow school buses, the rhythm of traffic lights,
fruit stands: apples, limes, and oranges arrayed like rainbows
begging our praise. Silver trucks heavy with oil or paper—
bricks or milk, teeming over highways alongside us,
on our way to clean tables, read ledgers, or save lives—
to teach geometry, or ring-up groceries as my mother did
for twenty years, so I could write this poem.

As we departed Woodstock and headed back towards New Hampshire, we enjoyed a stop at 'Scotland by the Yard'. It was a wonderful large gift-shop that reminded both Carly and I of any and every gift shop in Scotland. We knew the products, the tartans, the kilts, the celtic crosses and jewellery. It was especially sweet (and nostalgic) to have this photo taken by a Vermont mother and daughter who were visiting Scotland by the Yard as the daughter is soon to set off on her own Junior-Year-Abroad in Scotland. 

The celtic music playing throughout was beautiful and so so nostalgic. We spoke with the shop owner and enjoyed browsing.

And with a relaxed Saturday evening and Sunday including plenty of wilderness, lake, trees and reading, Carly departed and Monday arrived. It was wonderful experiencing Bookstock and exploring the summer beauty of Vermont and New Hampshire with her.

Montpelier & Immigration Reform

This evening, instead of jumping on the highway to drive the 40 miles north to Burlington, I stopped briefly in Montpelier, the capital of Vermont and a few miles north of my work place. I love Vermont in the summer. I think I can truthfully say I've never spent a summer in a more visually appealing place. I view the green mountains as more beautiful than the Scottish Highlands. Each day, the twists and turns of the highway reveal uncovered patches of rolling hills ahead. I love living among the mountains and fear that I now might unfairly judge flat areas that I inhabit in the future. I picked up dinner in Montpelier and while there, under the 80-degree evening summer sun, I admired the architecture. The golden Vermont state house dome. How enormously round and blindingly gold it is. The view of the dome when approaching the capitol city and when rolling down hills in the (very small) city. The brick buildings surrounding. The art galleries and local shops and parks and benches and gardens and people.

Driving back to Burlington, I was so fascinated by a Vermont Public Radio (VPR) story. I thought I knew a good amount of Vermont's share of undocumented immigrants, but I didn't. Certainly the issue can be controversial and I'm inclined to disclose that VPR displays a somewhat-bias, but just putting the facts together and understanding the wider issue was fascinating. My opinion now is that the state of Vermont could not prosper without undocumented immigrants. 90 percent of Vermont's 1000 to 1200 undocumented immigrants work on the state's dairy farms. All are paid. 90 percent come from Mexico. Of those 90 percent, over 50 percent come from Mexico's southern-most state. Those who make it to Vermont are attracted by its isolation. They can work long hours and earn good pay in an environment where they cannot walk to nearby towns or businesses. Vermont has plenty of work yet violent seasons and extreme temperatures. More often than not, these workers return home and become small business owners and farmers. As hard as it was to believe, VPR spoke about Vermont residents not competing for dairy farming jobs. With Vermont as one of the oldest states in the nation now (along with New Hampshire), farmers and the members of the towns and counties these dairy farms are located in are too old to dairy farm all hours of the day and all days of the week. I understand and agree that immigration reform is necessary. I understand the issues surrounding the 11 million undocumented immigrants in the U.S. Yet I struggle to believe (and perhaps this VPR story and my own liberal education has influenced my own thinking) how the 1000-1200 undocumented migrant dairy farm workers in Vermont are hurting the Vermont economy or society by performing the jobs that need to be performed. Rather, they seem to only be boosting productivity and continuing Vermont's dairy farming traditions.

St. Gaudens' & a New British Heir

Greetings!

Yesterday (Sunday) my Dad and I enjoyed a Peruvian concert at the former home of Augustus St. Gaudens in Cornish, New Hampshire. We've been for a few of the Sunday concerts before, and I loveee the setting and experience there in the summer. Many of St. Gaudens reliefs and pieces of sculpted bronze are displayed throughout the extensive gardens and I was most looking forward to his relief portraying Massachusetts' 54th regiment, the replica of which stands across from the old Massachusetts Statehouse.

 

St. Gaudens' home.

I found it so powerful to be reading Robert Lowell's poem, 'For the Union Dead' while there. I focused on Lowell's poem in my final American Poetry Exam but quickly (and perhaps naturally) forgot it after I left the exam hall for the promise of summer freedom on May 16. Thankfully, I revisted the poem and the words once again made a glorious impact: 'Parking spaces luxuriate like civic sandpiles in the heart of Boston. A girdle of orange, Puritan-pumpkin colored... girders Braces the tingling Statehouse, shaking over the excavations, as it faces Colonel Shaw and his bell-cheeked Negro infantry on St. Gaudens' shaking Civil War relief, propped by a plank splint against the garage's earthquake. Two months after marching through Boston, half the regiment was dead; at the dedication, William James could almost hear the bronze Negroes breathe.' -- Robert Lowell

The replica of the relief Lowell is speaking about is above.

 

Lastly, like many, I found today's birth of the next British royal to be very exciting! I began to think though, and not to turn this in a negative direction -- because this should be centered around the birth of a person entering into this world -- but the lack of bodily privacy of one who is deemed 'royal' has become increasingly non-existent and very sadening.

 

This passage from Hilary Mantel's essay Royal Bodies perhaps accurately portrays my view:

 

'I used to think that the interesting issue was whether we should have a monarchy or not. But now I think that question is rather like, should we have pandas or not? Our current royal family doesn’t have the difficulties in breeding that pandas do, but pandas and royal persons alike are expensive to conserve and ill-adapted to any modern environment. But aren’t they interesting? Aren’t they nice to look at? Some people find them endearing; some pity them for their precarious situation; everybody stares at them, and however airy the enclosure they inhabit, it’s still a cage.'

Twenty-Five

                                  Today is my brother's twenty-fifth birthday.

Despite not being alive for four of those years, it remains unbelievable to me how fast time has gone. Although I was always looking up, I remember when he was eight, and then twelve, and sixteen, and now, twenty-five? Yet in the same sense, so little has changed. Our bond, relationship, and laughter-filled times together continue. This morning I received one of the kindest, most creative gifts from Matt and his girlfriend, Kate. On his birthday? Not even necessary. It made me laugh far too much and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. I'm so happy to have them in my life. Ohh and if you're a fan of scanned and off-colored photos, here's a favorite of mine:

 

Dawn and Race

 

Saint Michael's College this evening.

I was reading Willa Cather's 1913 work, O Pioneers! over the weekend and loved this line:
'The dawn in the east looked like the light from some great fire that was burning under the edge of the world. The colors were reflected in the globules of dew that sheathed the short gray pasture grass.'

This morning I found myself outside among trees and sun around 6:45. The brightness of the outdoors felt as if it could be 11 a.m., yet the stillness proved the time. I thought about how precious and fleeting those moments are early in the morning. The sun so low.

Although the line above describes dawn, when reading it, it reminded me of a line in Sebastian Barry's novel, A Long, Long Way. Describing the sunset, Barry writes, 'the sun was falling off the end of the world like a burned man.' A novel about Ireland declaring home rule, the imagery Barry used throughout A Long, Long Way gracefully contributed to story.

While I don't have the knowledge that others have on the Trayvon Martin/George Zimmerman case as I didn't follow it too closely, I've been touched by several Op-Eds about race as the story has progressed in the past year and a half, and feel that the ultimate issue at hand in the story is race. I felt that a selection of Attorney General Eric Holder's words earlier through The Atlantic most resonated with me:

"Yet, for all the progress we've seen, recent events demonstrate that we still have much more work to do -- and much further to go. The news of Trayvon Martin's death last year, and the discussions that have taken place since then, reminded me of my father's words so many years ago. And they brought me back to a number of experiences I had as a young man -- when I was pulled over twice and my car searched on the New Jersey Turnpike when I'm sure I wasn't speeding, or when I was stopped by a police officer while simply running to a catch a movie, at night in Georgetown, in Washington, D.C.  I was at the time of that last incident a federal prosecutor." -- http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2013/07/listening-in-on-the-talk-what-eric-holder-told-his-son-about-trayvon/277861/

These words resonated in me in that I will never understand what another endures. They reminded me of the injustices that continue in the U.S. and around the world. I thought briefly earlier today, 'If the United States had never legalized and promoted slavery for the purposes of maximizing exports and trade of valuable crops, would racism exist in the U.S.?' which led me to 'If blacks had forever been equal to whites, would racism still exist?' Both answers remain unclear. Solely for the reason that we will never know these answers, or what another endures, I'm inclined to believe that Holder's experiences (and likely Trayvon Martin's) should be a concern of us all.

Waterbury, Vermont & Plainfield, New Hampshire

 

Yesterday (Saturday) I worked at the Waterbury, Vt. Arts Market with a few of my co-workers from Blue Cross. We offered free water and information about health care to overheated and thirsty people who wandered by. I love being able to speak with community members and although the air was heavy with humidity, it was a beautiful day. Ben & Jerry's, beeswax candles, landscape paintings and homemade cards were sold under tents around us.

Waterbury is a beautiful town. The home of the Ben & Jerry's Factory and the Cabot Cheese Outlet store, Waterbury provides a throughway to Stowe, Vermont, where tourists visit year-round, but mainly in the summer, fall and winter months. Summers in Stowe provide cooler days, views of the green mountains, hiking and concerts while Fall brings leaves exploding into hues of golden and orange while winter brings snow, skiing and outdoor sports. And perhaps all-year, tourists in search of Sound of Music dreams visit the Trapp Family Lodge.

 

The main street of Waterbury seems to be more of a destination for locals, it's short and off the beaten tourist-path, yet offers local shops, restaurants, historic churches and buildings, and in these months, flowers and plant life lining the sidewalks. 

 

Today I was home with my parents and after a picnic we stopped by this farm stand in Plainfield, New Hampshire. The produce and flowers available were beautiful.

 

Dino confrontation at the farm stand.

 

 

Vermont Photography and Women's Education

Greetings again.

The sky has been beautiful the past few days. A mix of peach/salmon-stained clouds and clear skies.
I had an all-day class today at Saint Michael's and it was wonderful. I was strangely nervous and anxious about returning to the journalism department and attending a class at Saint Michael's after fifteen-ish months away, but my fears melted away when I realized how much I loved the experience. It felt like no time has passed when I spoke to some of my closest classmates and my kind professors. I felt welcomed and at home. The days and months ahead will be full but I'm looking forward to this final year.

Photography last night in Vermont:

 

Lastly, I found this video of Malala Yousafzai addressing the United Nations Youth Assembly to be beautifully inspiring. It just might be the best speech I've ever heard.

It's a full 17 and a half minutes, a few of my favorite quotes (or roughly half of the speech) are below.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rNhZu3ttIU

"Thousands of people have been killed by the terrorists and millions have been injured, I am just one of them...On the 9th of October 2012, the Taliban shot me on the left side of my forehead, they shot my friends too, they thought that the bullet would silence us. But they failed. And out of that silence came thousands of voices, the terrorists thought that they would change my aim and stop my ambitions. But nothing changed in my life...strength, fervor, encouragement was born."

"I'm not against anyone, neither am I here to speak in terms of personal revenge against the Taliban or any other terrorist group. I'm here to speak up for the rights of education for every child. I want education for the son's and daughter's of the Taliban and all the terrorists and extremists. I don't even hate the Talib who shot me. Even if there is a gun in my hand and he stands in front of me, I would not shoot him. This is the confession that I have learned from Mohammed the prophet of mercy, and Jesus Christ and Lord Buddha. This is the legacy of change that I have inherited from Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela and Mohammed Ali Jinnah."

"This is what my soul is telling me. Be peaceful and love everyone."

"The terrorists are misusing the name of Islam and Pashtun society for their own personal benefits. Pakistan is a peace-loving democratic country. Pashtuns want education for their daughters and sons. And Islam is a religion of peace...Peace is necessary for education. In many parts of the world, especially Pakistan and Afghanistan, terrorism, war and conflict is structured into the schools...women and children are suffering in many ways in many parts of the world...people in Afghanistan have been affected by the hardship of extremism for decades. Young girls have to do domestic child labor and are forced to get married at early ages. Poverty, ignorance, injustice, racism and a deprivation of basic rights are the main problems faced by men and women."

"We call upon all governments to ensure free, compulsory education all over the world for every child...We call upon the developed nations to support the expansion of education opportunities for girls in the developing world. We call upon all the communities to be tolerant; to reject prejudice based on caste, creed, sex, color, religion or gender. To ensure freedom and equality for women so that they can flourish."

Inspiration and Reflecting on 'Dreaming of Mandela'

Hello again.

All is so well here. I've been busy at Blue Cross and have spent so many great evenings with friends filled with laugher, evening walks and complete loss of time management. I'm continuing to write and feel so inspired by the surroundings here -- the mountains, daylight, darkness, horizons, plants, flowers. I'm discovering the natural beauty of how words can blend together in poetry and prose and how storytelling can begin. I've focused more on words than length lately and have no idea where a longer story or novel will take me. I've loved blending religion, history, current events, culture and familiar words and sayings into poetry.

I've continued to feel very guided and excited (yet also quite lost) in post-grad plans. There are so many paths I'd like to explore yet I'm struggling to select what I'm most interested in. I continue to ache briefly each day in the most selfish ways for Scotland and the U.K. In doing so and in vividly remembering friendships, words exchanged, events, days, experiences when a song or word is said, the memory comes back sharply. And beautifully. I've considered the good and bad of this. My year there feels like a long dream that I've just woken up from. It feels like a different land and place entirely from everything I've ever known and seen. Yet I lived it just as I've lived life here and it impacted me more than perhaps any year has. Recently, I actively began striving to live in the present, not the past or future. I read an article earlier on the NY Times about nostalgia being healthy and warming. It explained the benefits of nostalgia being far healthier than reminiscing, and proved that thinking of nostalgia makes one physically warmer. Katie and I tried it this evening when we grew chilly while working in an air-conditioned classroom. Between laughing, it seemed to work for us both!I want to enjoy the moments here and understand that the people we meet will remain. I have one year left of University and it's a searching time. This summer I've been in the workforce and I've loved it, yet it's also made me thankful for being a student for one more year. I'm doing. I'm learning. I'm reaching and grasping. We all are. The options today, the opportunities, ideas and pathways are endless.

I read this New York Times piece earlier by Roger Cohen titled 'Dreaming of Mandela' and it might be one of the most beautifully-put and eloquent pieces I've read to date on Nelson Mandela. A few lines that have remained with me:

"Why think of a black man in a cell for his just beliefs when you could gaze at the canopy of purple-blue jacaranda blossom over the avenues of Johannesburg?"
      

"And on Robben Island, Mandela learns that not even a life sentence can condemn a man to abandon the mastery of his soul."

 

"I have been dreaming of Mandela. An old idea: He who touches one human being touches all humanity. I have been murmuring his name: He broke the cycle of conflict by placing the future above the past, humanity above vengeance."

               

"The truth is we did not deserve him. We could not even imagine him. But, as I learned young in South Africa, the human spirit can avert even inevitable catastrophe."

The full article is brief and worth the read. Find it here: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/07/09/opinion/global/roger-cohen-dreaming-of-mandela.html

Lastly, I've tried to pay close attention and understand the Egyptian revolution. Like many perhaps, I've struggled  to completely grasp the Egyptian Revolution. I found this video extraordinarily helpful. Three minutes. Explanation and an inspiration. Consider watching.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y4umifTLSII

Independence Day and Blog Change

Hello.
It's Saturday here and it's beautifully sunny (and a bit windy) outside.

 

Earlier this morning, I changed this blog. It will always be my 'Scotland blog' and the posts from Scotland will always be available on the left. Realizing where my life is now though, this summer, this upcoming final year of college and beyond, I knew I needed a change in title. I'm still not sure what this blog will become, but I want to continue doing what I've done since August 2012. The posts may not be exciting as they were when I wrote about my experiences in St. Andrews, but I hope to blend ideas, thoughts, experiences and photography woven into some type of (Northern) New England experience. I continue to feel inspired by so much of what I read and see and hope to share it here.

Independence Day.
The day was warm, humid, exciting and busy. Much of my Mom's extended family joined us at home and there was plenty of celebration. Electric fans and swimming kept us cool and the weather was too hot for the swarms of mosquitos and the nearby raccoon family to make an appearance.

I missed the warmth and sunshine this past spring as the U.K. suffered a longer winter than usual and a cold spring. Now, after weeks of heat, humidity, constant re-application of sunscreen and bug spray, daily thunderstorms, waking up to humidity and dizziness, and darkening skin from the sun, I might be alright with cooler weather. Rivers and lakes are extraordinarily high in Vermont and New Hampshire and summer crops have drowned. We're still eating summer berries and vegetables as often as possible though and the stillness of the woods remains beautiful. I went out this morning to gather sticks and branches. The solitude and quiet of the woods was so calming. Layers of fern, bark, oak leaves and pine needles lined the ground among the slugs, spiders, moths and caterpillars.

I've picked far too many wild daisies this past month, and was delighted to find wild (but tiny and bitter) strawberries. I've felt for awhile that I really hope to leave New England next spring or summer once I graduate. I know I'll be back someday though, and there is so much here I love. The white puritan churches in small towns, the covered bridges, bright foliage in the fall, the white and green mountains,  light snowfalls and beautifully green summers, wildflowers, long grass, preserved farms and barns, the Maine coast, lighthouses and the tiny historical towns.