Surroundings

Earlier this week I finished Henry David Thoreau's Walden. I wish I could praise it's magnificence, but it was a bit sleepy. I do love nature writing though, and was attracted to Thoreau's classic in the hope to think deeper about the natural world in relation to writing. The two seem to support one another so well.

Tonight's sky, Plymouth, New Hampshire

I've been thinking recently about our land before European settlers arrived and how Native Americans might have lived, co-existing with the earth in its darkness and light, harvests and droughts. I don't think many of us will ever know the experience of living in a purely natural world. I don't see how we can understand it, even our time spent in the wilderness comes supported by machine-made warmth and the modern conveniences accessible to all. I wouldn't trade any of these comforts but it's challenging and fascinating to imagine that so many lived successfully without them.

Over the weekend, I hiked to an elevated lake in the woods with my Dad. I somehow missed photographing the extraordinary lake, but captured this sweet chimney and hearth about a hundred meters from the lake.

Towards the end of the hike, as we were discussion technology, I looked to the right and saw this owl. He/She was so closely camouflaged to the tree and was an extraordinary sight.  I had never seen an owl in the wild before and both the bird and scene were calm and beautiful. We stared intently for a minute or two until the bird flew away. In the time that followed, the discussion about technology couldn't have felt any more meaningless. 

Our Role as Global Citizens

I’ve heard remarks and questions recently about the negativity of international news, of how our world could have molded so drastically into today’s state. It’s a comprehensive question, one lying in truth, but also overlooked opportunity. The answer may lie in worldview.

Increased media access to place and story could be an explanation, yet a profound information shift has occurred and might better explore the process. The news and media content we receive has split into two distinct powers, one of every person having a voice to project via social networks, and the second being our own media networks controlled by larger corporations and interests than ever before. I think I'll call these separate platforms the media of man and the media of corporation. 

Not only do we have access to increased knowledge of sadness and suffering, but now hold the chance to reach beyond our borders and change what we can, while we can. This model has proven evident as issues of sexism, sexual assault and conscious and unconscious acts of racism are slowly being brought to light and to the table for discussion, both by the media of man and corporation, with an increased call to end.

Our role as global citizens today lies in interacting where we can, with who we can and positively changing as much as we can. Our social divisions today between national border, race, and socioeconomic class still stand strong, but in time, can be broken completely. If trends and movements can spread across the globe, interaction and togetherness can spread as well. The media of man has a positive role to play, one of awareness, and action, in today’s opportunistic, globalized world.

The issues are endless. Income and racial inequality, discrimination, unfair labor conditions, war between cultures and nations and the ticking clock of a rapidly warming planet. In urging our attention beyond our borders, I’m not making a political statement or plea to send finances and resources, my intentions are not to demonstrate that issues within the United States are no longer relevant.

I’m presenting that we turn our attention and compassion, at the very least, paired with understanding and the minutes we have left in our day to educate ourselves about those who live beyond our fence, to those who through our connected world, live closer than they ever have and in which lies the opportunity to end Us versus Them, East versus West. First versus Third.

A Photo Essay: Urban and Rural

Over the weekend, I visited New York City. It's a place that while expensive and crowded, I've grown to love and find an escape in, particularly the amount of culture, modernity, opportunity, diversity and intersection of international influence. 

I've always lived in quiet, friendly, community-minded and naturally beautiful areas. Any setting has pros and cons in lifestyle and opportunity, with the extremes of rural and urban as no exception. 

After work today, (Monday, 10/20) the sunlight was beautiful with a second wave of foliage visible. I walked through Holderness, New Hampshire capturing the surroundings. 

Later, I compared them to scenes of Manhattan from over the weekend, below. 

Literature in Concord, Mass.

In an American literature class a couple of years ago, the required reading included a few poems in a large book with plenty of Concord writers, Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Nathaniel Hawthorne in later pages. I ventured out a bit and tried to read a small ounce of each. Older literature can be challenging, and boring, and I think a bit of an accomplishment once completed. It seems to require so much more focus, understanding and grasp. At the time, I found each writer to be extraordinary in different ways but I didn't develop a love for any of the writers or pieces of writing. Hawthorne was likely the favorite though, as The Scarlet Letter remains memorable today. That summer I read Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, another Concord writer. Though similarly challenging, I enjoyed this novel in its own way of showing the domestic side of war.

the Colonial Inn, Concord, Mass. 

I was born in Concord, Massachusetts but until yesterday, held no recollection of the Revolutionary War/Nineteenth-Century-Literary-Destination-town-west-of-Boston. A friend and I attended a literary event in the town and found that through a mixture of morning rain, afternoon sunshine and evening fog, the town appeared so familiar to how it does in literature, with distinctly intact colonial architecture (along with a booming tourism business). I wouldn't have guessed that Concord was quite as old as it is (settled in 1635) as it seems preserved in its two main revolutions, the Concord of the 1770s and the literary one of the mid-1800s. 

The event included a tour of Sleepy Hollow cemetery which appeared to stretch for miles, and in which  Thoreau, Emerson, Hawthorne and Alcott are buried. Pencils and pens adorned the graves.  

Buried beside siblings with similar single-name headstones, the grave of Henry David Thoreau.

The grave of Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Concord, Mass.

Concord, Mass.

with Katie, Lexington, Mass.

Bedford, Mass.

Bedford, Mass.

Bedford, Mass. 

Choices, Thoughts and Robert Frost

I'd been craving a bit of Robert Frost poetry lately in the adjustment to autumn and a coming winter in a quiet, lovely and rural part of New Hampshire. The peak of autumn colors passed a couple of weeks ago here, and while the trees were colorful and the weather beautiful for several weeks, the busy-ness of changes and adjustments in these last couple of months have allowed me to forget just how fast time has passed.

Holderness, New Hampshire, late September

 Campton, New Hampshire, September 26

There has been so much happiness lately, but few quiet moments. I began three jobs (4 if freelancing is included…) in two months and met many new and amazing individuals. Every moment felt filled with social interaction and excitement, laughter and discussion. Laughter, mainly. There has been so much of it recently, more concentrated than I can remember in any period of time. Yet as everything now begins to settle and autumn slowly turns towards winter, I'm left with 1 (very wonderful) job in that quiet, lovely and rural part of the NH. Like adjusting to any new normal, suddenly the silence has arrived unexpectedly and unfamiliar, although welcome.

Grantham, New Hampshire, September 28

Concord, New Hampshire, October 1

The silence first hit earlier this week and once more this afternoon, as I walked alone through the woods. It was a 3 or 4 mile wooded path I'd ran with the girls xc team at the school I work at a few weeks earlier. I was hesitant to embark it alone, fearing that I might become lost, but found that when I did choose to walk it, complete silence arrived, paired with the sudden urge that I wanted and needed to think deeply about the passage of time, about all of the happiness and laughter that had filled recent moments, the moments that I had barely realized had occurred as I focused on all that needed to be completed in transition.

It's as if we possess two selves with different potentials, one short-term focused on filling the moments, and one long-term to understand, reflect and prepare for what lies ahead. Thinking about this in the woods, Robert Frost came back. His poem "The Road Not Taken," seemed to fit the journeys accurately.

The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Reflections on September, Happiness and Scotland

I once thought that September was the quickest month. With school beginning, it seemed that the month passed faster than any other. October's excitement-filled long wait for Halloween passed slower.

The last two years have proved how fast every month seems to move and how positive change can be. A new routine, place, people, names and experiences are all wonderful occurrences. I think I write "two years" because it's how I've measured my own personal changes: a year in Scotland coupled with personal triumphs and challenges, the discovery of a love for writing, interaction, the natural world and photography, followed by a final year of American college and a post-grad summer, accompanied by experiences, travels, friendships, ideas, books, pieces of writing and personal growth that I would have thought impossible more than two years earlier. I don't know if I would recognize myself today in comparison to a few years ago.

I've recently found myself at the place where it all began: school (in September).

Throughout college, I pondered if an alternative route to teaching in one of America's most disadvantaged regions was for me. When I gave it my all and the offer arrived earlier this year, I chose to decline, for want of something different, yet unsure of what that was. Throughout the summer, I completed somewhere between 15 and 20 interviews and ultimately settled into two retail positions that I loved. After 7 and 9 weeks at each, I accepted an offer at a boarding school near New Hampshire's white mountains and began the transition.

Holderness, New Hampshire

More than a week in to the position, I feel that I've settled exactly where I should be right now. I don't work directly with students, but in a combination of advancement, fundraising, writing and marketing. I've joined student clubs and sports teams to get to know the high school students better and each day has been more positive and exciting than the last. The community of a small school feels familiar, yet new and exciting.

Plymouth, New Hampshire

And as a side note, because I must, please know that this post and future posts reflect my opinion and ideas solely, not that of my employer.

Plymouth, New Hampshire

I've thought often that happiness and fulfillment tend to arrive when purpose and goals and direction are achieved. 

While everything has been a bit crazy this past week, the Scottish referendum cannot be forgotten. It was exciting, nerve-wracking and fascinating to watch Scotland on the international stage. I loved the example of a democracy in action with more than 85% of Scots choosing to vote. In short, I'm pleased with the outcome, I expect and hope the United Kingdom will continue to reassess its role and the power each of the four countries hold in the decades ahead, but continued unification, togetherness and representation for today seems like the best option. In the meantime, I have no doubt that recognition of and celebration of Scottish culture will continue both in Scotland and around the world.

September 2012, St. Andrews, Scotland

October 2012, Perthshire, Scotland

Mornings

I really love photo essays in journalism. Words can bring description, but photojournalism and photography in general brings the visual explanation that words need to work harder at. I don't have the best camera, but I like capturing detail in nature and find the light to be best in morning. Below are a few morning photographs taken in the last two months. All photographed were taken in New Hampshire or Massachusetts. 

A Few Words about Post Offices

I recently accepted a job and moved to a new town a little over an hour northeast from my parents home where I've been living since I graduated in May.

In the midst of moving, planning to move, packing to move, purchasing items to move and continuing with my two jobs in Vermont (I have a little over a week remaining at both), I paid $30 to the federal government for a 3 by 5.5 inch post office box about a mile from my new apartment.

My payment was processed in Washington and I filled out a U.S. postal service application once the fee was processed. I was assigned my box and keys yesterday.

Something about this tiny small town post office was adorable. The office is wood paneled with a 1970s-era faded world map on the wall near the envelopes and stamps for sale.

The rows of boxes in the main lobby are metal and glass with iron hinges and detail. I can't decipher if the boxes are extraordinarily old and historic or only a few decades old but with a pronounced style.

On the subject of mail, I find snail mail to be one of the more exciting parts of life. Since returning from Scotland, I've closely maintained e-mail/skype correspondence with friends from afar as a simple, constant, free and enjoyable way to remain in contact.

A couple of friends and I though, have begun snail-mailing on a regular basis. Every few weeks when I write or receive a letter from England or Korea it brings not only excitement and (often) laughter when reading, but the feeling that the world is accessible and small, which sounds strange as the internet has proved this one thousand times more than snail mail has, yet despite the 5-7 days to England and the 10 days to Korea, the postal service still appears impressive in today's global society.

Today, Korea's arrived. 

A Return to Joynalism

A few mornings ago, late August.

I started freelancing this week. I had a chance encounter with an editor in the cafe of one of my workplaces (King Arthur Flour). Thinking I worked in the publicity department at King Arthur, she introduced herself and when I told her that I worked in sales but held a journalism degree, we spoke the language of freelance. I received my first assignment soon after.

It's been a nice return. When I discovered my trusted voice recorder had reached it's last leg, I enjoyed researching and purchasing a new one, conducting the necessary background research before the interview, compiling questions, and this evening, driving down dirt roads to my interviewee's home in rural Vermont.

The hard-hitting questions were a tough return, but I think they've always been tough. It's where the challenge in journalism lies -- between the commitment to a powerful, thought-provoking article and the risk of an uncomfortable or challenging interview.

P.S. I originally intended for the title of this post to sound Boston-accented, but I think the 'joy' part works too. :)

Reflections on Ferguson

I've long enjoyed the "Best American Series" of essays and poetry, published annually by Houghton Mifflin. I recently began "The Best American Essays of the (20th) Century." I've digested an essay a day, and with every year of the last century represented, I've jumped from 1928 to 1941 to 1957 to 1963 thus far.

Martin Luther King Jr.'s "Letter from Birmingham Jail" representing 1963 is my current favorite, and the most thought-provoking of the few I've read. While I'd read the essay before, one passage in particular often sticks with me, even more so this month:

"I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial "outside agitator" idea. Anyone who lives inside the United States can never be considered an outsider anywhere in this country.

It's a choice of thought that I've struggled with before, the belief that certain geographic areas are immune, that we live in an equal society, that we don't have issues of race or class or discrimination, that our surroundings are safer and more just than others. It's a mistake made far too often, a belief of separation.

This past spring, I wrote a book about race for my senior thesis. Focusing on the homogenous state of Vermont, which at nearly 96% white, is one of the whitest and most liberal in the nation, I interviewed black and white Vermonters, local and state law enforcement, government officials, civil rights attorneys, veterans of the Civil Rights movement and educators. In the process, I attempted to prove that due to it's homogenous nature, Vermont lacked a civil rights moment and while socially accepting, issues of racial acceptance remain. While geographic regions experience different racial demographics and different experiences with racial inequality, I believe we share a responsibility of awareness relating to the discrimination and racial inequality within the United States.

In a similar light, I've watched the events in Ferguson, Missouri unfold these past two weeks and have thought often of the history of American racism. I heard it in the interviews I conducted while writing the book and I understand it better today: a 400-year history of what whites have done to blacks in America cannot be erased in 50 years.

In this light, I began to think of what's changed in American racial relations in the past 50 years; yet in doing so, immediately noticed the disparity between the amount of legal changes, not the unmeasurable societal changes.

I focused on unconscious racial biases in the book, on how we perceive, react, and act towards those unlike ourselves. In reflection of Ferguson, it appears that racial acceptance in the United States has yet to be achieved. Between media perception of young black men, the socio-economic divide present between black and white and police brutality, we're holding ourselves back as a people and nation from true, progressive change in racial acceptance. The legalities might exist, but full racial acceptance hasn't occurred.

In the meantime, I wonder at the possibility of choosing to not sit idly by, but to choose to travel the extra mile and actively work to understand, recognize, acknowledge and prevent our own unconscious racial biases. Perhaps in doing so, we may positively define the next 50 years of American racial equality.