I suppose this blog is starting off with random posts, so i'll go with Monday's class, just like Amy did.
Myths are amazing. I can't think of many things that are better at passing time than reading myths. I even don't mind, as a Christian, looking at some of the teachings of the Bible as potential "myths", because no matter how real they are, they are still great stories and have great value. My favorite types of myths are the legends of Greek Mythology, because they are the most vivid stories ever told. Not only are they colorful, but they also give us explanations for everyday occurrences very similar to the stories in the Bible. It used to bother me when people would comment on the Biblical creation story, or the Parables as "myth", but it doesn't both me anymore because they are just as "mythical" as the legends of Buddha and his witnessing of the four sights.
To disagree with the last post, I think it is important to question myths all of the time. Even though they are extremely enjoyable, you can still question the fact that they actually existed, or in some cases where the "myth" is taken as truth, whether it is justified. It's natural to question when we find out that points of authority are not telling us the "whole" story. If the church told us that we can only ask God for forgiveness through them and not on our own, it would be important to question this belief, and look into the Bible to possibly find a story that can help us find out whether or not that is right. Of course, you cannot look into the Bible for an answer to everything, it's just an example.
To conclude, we shouldn't look at just one source of myths, we should look at them all. If we spend all of our time looking at just one viewpoint it would be hard to relate with anyone outside of your faith. Of course, this is what many want, but I enjoy looking at all myths, whether ancient or still practiced, to see the source of belief and practice for all people. I think it's easily possible to be constantly questioning all myths, and still believe in your own; as long as you question it as well from time to time.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Religion and Mythology --Amy Ouypron
So I really enjoyed our class lecture on Monday-- the continuation about Mythology and how it relates to our cultural perspective on the world. I think it finally clicked for me! I mean, when I was younger I had certain ideals that I took to heart. I was a Christian, I believed in Christmas, and most importantly, I had an imagination that was far more powerful than anything I was learning in school. I suppose like most people, growing older and repeatedly hearing about "evolution" and the simple rationalities of science begins to ruin that whole area of thought. It's as if your creative orb begins to implode upon itself because you're bombarded with so many questions that without even knowing it, you've become a philosopher. Even worse, once you've recognized this new "philosophical mindset" you've embarked upon (at least in my case) I began to pride myself on questioning everything until eventually the world became nothing but itself. How boring.
I think a lot of people get into a class like this one and don't really understand the actual concept (I didn't in many ways). In reality, I suppose that a philosopher is at the opposite end of the spectrum from religion with gray areas such as Buddhism in between. Anyways, my point being is that I thought it was very interesting about the idea that a philosopher questions because he is no longer experiencing "the myth." He needs to dissect and analyze his experiences in order to find an explanation and such a course of action usually becomes too common and overly abused. In fact, isn't always questioning a plain waste of time? I suppose a fine line between innate natural instincts and being a good person can often exist but wouldn't this explain why some people seem to just be simplistic and happy knowing who they are and what they believe in without having to even take into consideration the yammer of their opposition?
So my point being is, if a person should do anything each day, it is to just stop thinking so damn much and just "live."
I think a lot of people get into a class like this one and don't really understand the actual concept (I didn't in many ways). In reality, I suppose that a philosopher is at the opposite end of the spectrum from religion with gray areas such as Buddhism in between. Anyways, my point being is that I thought it was very interesting about the idea that a philosopher questions because he is no longer experiencing "the myth." He needs to dissect and analyze his experiences in order to find an explanation and such a course of action usually becomes too common and overly abused. In fact, isn't always questioning a plain waste of time? I suppose a fine line between innate natural instincts and being a good person can often exist but wouldn't this explain why some people seem to just be simplistic and happy knowing who they are and what they believe in without having to even take into consideration the yammer of their opposition?
So my point being is, if a person should do anything each day, it is to just stop thinking so damn much and just "live."
Monday, February 5, 2007
Kelly Moody, on the note of nostalgia
After reading Kim-Chi Le's post, it also reminded me of a value I put on a place. My grandparent's farm. I am from a really rural part of southern Virginia where farming is a pretty regular practice. Well, it used to be. The government now pays the tobacco farmers millions of dollars not to farm anymore. Small family farming is not sufficient anymore, they have better ways of mass producing any product that is needed. My grandfather used to grow tobacco and I have memories as a child running around the old hand built tobacco barns full of drying tobacco leaves. I remember seeing strange faces and strange languages of people from Mexico, who came up every season in swarms to help the farmers who were loyal to them in return by giving them a free place to stay and food in exchange for work.
As well as the smells of tobacco and sounds of strange languages, I remember my grandmother's food. She grows just about everything in her gardens. It is a regular thing in my town for everyone to grow tons of food and then give the majority of it away to neighbors and friends. It is a great thing except when you'd love to have a good strawberry in December and you can't have one because it is not season, yet in the summer there are so many that you get sick of them. The summer time is the season for fruits; cantalopes and watermelons get left on our back porch on a regular basis. Nothing beats my grandmother's fruits and vegetables. She even made her own biscuits and jelly. Every time i would go to her house she would insist I eat some of her food. She would pull out mason jars of string beans, tomatos, pickles, butterbeans, and fix a big meal with homemade biscuits and always ice cream after. I am picky when i go to the grocery store, especially here in Newport News. Most of the canned vegetables taste really terrible. I grew up eating garden-grown foods and it is hard to adapt to the mass produced versions of these things. There is a certain affinity I have for the taste that comes with eating my grandmother's food, as well as the memory. There is so much more that comes with eating a bowl of my grandmother's garden grown string beans versus the canned version they sell in the grocery store. It's not the same. For someone else, the canned version is all they know. For someone else, the canned version could be the best they've ever tasted. The difference with my experience is the sense of quality i get with eating them, and the nostalgic quality of their indulgence.
The attachment i have to my grandparent's farm comes from years and years of comforting appeal to many of my senses, and the love that came with the appeal of those senses. I am automatically happy when i go see them or walk around the farm. My memories of the farm are a continuance and overlap my mother's memories. It also have value to my mom because she has memories of her own, growing up there when the world was a lot different than it is now. The place comes with many myths: the deaf horse, rescuing baby deer, the wandering mule, the sad deaths of dogs and cats, times when the 'wolves' came, the beetle years, the constant flow of cows in and out of the pastures, all having different spots, characteristics and personalities every year, even a cemetery is supposed to be somewhere out in the woods with stories of its own, stories of my grandpa's family who lived there before him, and those who lived before them. The place is sacred now because it has history, it has stories, it has my memories, and my mothers, and our value of the place is based on our knowledge of the myths that exist there, and our own personal attachments that have grown from having that place. But despite that, the feeling is real. The feeling I have when I am there is the same feeling the Aborigine's must get when they visit their holy sites. Because it's not just about spirituality, its about value. It's about how the place affects your life. In that way, the value i put on my grandparent's farm is my spirituality, is my truth. The myths that come with the place create my truth, shape my life.
As well as the smells of tobacco and sounds of strange languages, I remember my grandmother's food. She grows just about everything in her gardens. It is a regular thing in my town for everyone to grow tons of food and then give the majority of it away to neighbors and friends. It is a great thing except when you'd love to have a good strawberry in December and you can't have one because it is not season, yet in the summer there are so many that you get sick of them. The summer time is the season for fruits; cantalopes and watermelons get left on our back porch on a regular basis. Nothing beats my grandmother's fruits and vegetables. She even made her own biscuits and jelly. Every time i would go to her house she would insist I eat some of her food. She would pull out mason jars of string beans, tomatos, pickles, butterbeans, and fix a big meal with homemade biscuits and always ice cream after. I am picky when i go to the grocery store, especially here in Newport News. Most of the canned vegetables taste really terrible. I grew up eating garden-grown foods and it is hard to adapt to the mass produced versions of these things. There is a certain affinity I have for the taste that comes with eating my grandmother's food, as well as the memory. There is so much more that comes with eating a bowl of my grandmother's garden grown string beans versus the canned version they sell in the grocery store. It's not the same. For someone else, the canned version is all they know. For someone else, the canned version could be the best they've ever tasted. The difference with my experience is the sense of quality i get with eating them, and the nostalgic quality of their indulgence.
The attachment i have to my grandparent's farm comes from years and years of comforting appeal to many of my senses, and the love that came with the appeal of those senses. I am automatically happy when i go see them or walk around the farm. My memories of the farm are a continuance and overlap my mother's memories. It also have value to my mom because she has memories of her own, growing up there when the world was a lot different than it is now. The place comes with many myths: the deaf horse, rescuing baby deer, the wandering mule, the sad deaths of dogs and cats, times when the 'wolves' came, the beetle years, the constant flow of cows in and out of the pastures, all having different spots, characteristics and personalities every year, even a cemetery is supposed to be somewhere out in the woods with stories of its own, stories of my grandpa's family who lived there before him, and those who lived before them. The place is sacred now because it has history, it has stories, it has my memories, and my mothers, and our value of the place is based on our knowledge of the myths that exist there, and our own personal attachments that have grown from having that place. But despite that, the feeling is real. The feeling I have when I am there is the same feeling the Aborigine's must get when they visit their holy sites. Because it's not just about spirituality, its about value. It's about how the place affects your life. In that way, the value i put on my grandparent's farm is my spirituality, is my truth. The myths that come with the place create my truth, shape my life.
LE, KIM-CHI - The place had special meaning
The place that has a special meaning to me was my native home, VIET-NAM.
I grew up in a town in Viet-Nam. The country is lush. My family lived in a beautiful place. About one mile behind my house was a street for cars, and about two miles from my house was the Mekong River. When I stood in my yard, I could see the cars run on the road and the boats sail on the river. In front of my house was a small road close to the river.
I lived in a tropical location. This climate helped us grow food easily. Vegetables grew by themselves easily. My family was comfortable living there.
We didn’t spend too much money; but we got a lot of benefit from our surroundings.
When the French took over my country, my parent’s house was used as a head quarter for about one hundred military men who were stationed there. In 1954, the French lost. They had to retreat to their country. We came back to live in the house again. But I was surprised! Why was our house so messy? The yard around our house had too much junk. I felt unhappy. My mother asked me, “I think you don’t feel good, do you?” I answered, “I wish it could stay the same. I liked it better before it changed.” My mother answered with a sweet voice. She said, “Don’t be upset any more, sweetheart. Probably, we can clean up! You are more important to me!” and I saw her eyes had turned red. I became quiet. I got nostalgic, my family was happy!
In 1979 I had left my sweet home and came to the USA. I liked living in iet-Nam and I will miss it forever. The weather was always very comfortable, and there were lots of delicious foods, and fruits. The U.S is a great country, but my roots and memories are still in Viet-Nam.
I grew up in a town in Viet-Nam. The country is lush. My family lived in a beautiful place. About one mile behind my house was a street for cars, and about two miles from my house was the Mekong River. When I stood in my yard, I could see the cars run on the road and the boats sail on the river. In front of my house was a small road close to the river.
I lived in a tropical location. This climate helped us grow food easily. Vegetables grew by themselves easily. My family was comfortable living there.
We didn’t spend too much money; but we got a lot of benefit from our surroundings.
When the French took over my country, my parent’s house was used as a head quarter for about one hundred military men who were stationed there. In 1954, the French lost. They had to retreat to their country. We came back to live in the house again. But I was surprised! Why was our house so messy? The yard around our house had too much junk. I felt unhappy. My mother asked me, “I think you don’t feel good, do you?” I answered, “I wish it could stay the same. I liked it better before it changed.” My mother answered with a sweet voice. She said, “Don’t be upset any more, sweetheart. Probably, we can clean up! You are more important to me!” and I saw her eyes had turned red. I became quiet. I got nostalgic, my family was happy!
In 1979 I had left my sweet home and came to the USA. I liked living in iet-Nam and I will miss it forever. The weather was always very comfortable, and there were lots of delicious foods, and fruits. The U.S is a great country, but my roots and memories are still in Viet-Nam.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
zach fauver Aborigine film
In class last Thursday we viewed a fascinating film on the Aborigines in Australia. There are very few of these people left, but the rest of society can learn a lot from the way they interact and completely depend on nature for survival. It is interesting to note the correlation between our lives and the life of the (I can not remember the birds name so I will call it the Zach bird) Zach bird. This Zach bird dedicates its life to attracting the best female mate possible. It builds an elaborate lair with decorative shells, grass and twigs. The male also puffs out his colorful feathers in order to attract the female. Zach bird goes through all this effort and show so that he can win over and reproduce with the best female possible. Now take a look at males in our society, they work hard so that they are able to afford nice things like cars and houses. They also go to the gym to improve their body and beef up their muscles. The main reason men put forth this effort to have nice things and a nice body, is to win over an attractive female so he can have a family, reproduce, and carry on his family name. Although humans and the Zach birds are completely different entities, they have dedicated their lives to the same pursuit.
WOMEN! Amy Ouypron
Okay, this is random, so...
Last night I went to a party, which by the way is a slightly rare occasion on my part, but heck, you only live life once right? Anyways, I was just hanging out when this guy came up to me and we starting talking and he said "you know you guys run this party?" I didn't really understand what he meant, but he continued on... he explained that if there were no girls at the party, no party would exist. His rationale was that if there were no girls around, why would a bunch of random guys just get drunk and hang out all night?
Well it got me thinking... I mean that totally makes sense but if you delve just a little deeper into the issue it's almost like an epiphany--probably one that many people have come to think of, but I just finally realized!
Man needs woman. I mean, even if it was just a party with a bunch of guys sitting around drinking, I guarantee that at some point they'd be talking about women at some point in the night. It's just such an interesting thing to think about because if you look at history, there's basically a long past of women who were somewhat suppressed by male domination, with a few random queens and innately strong women running things-- Cleopatra, Kadisha, even the idea of Gaea and "Mother Earth." So as a woman, it makes me feel special on my part to think that if there were no woman in nature, what would be the point of man's existence. I mean what would come if Adam didn't have Eve or if Shiva was really only a man? We run this place because if man wants to exist in the future, it's a given that offspring are ideal.
My question is, when did women just let their powers slip? I mean I'm not really a feminist, I don't hate men, they're rather a fun and entertaining part of a well-rounded lifestyle. But look at the big picture: Women may not be so strong, they may be the "gatherers" of the hunter-gatherer lifestyle, but why do so many women live as if they were worth nothing without the attention of men? Why do they give in so easily to abuse or oppression in certain cultures when if anything, they should be worshiped simply because they exist? Is it that women are born simply knowing in their hearts that confrontation is a waste of energy, or do they only long to find a man who can give them meaning in their lives? Anyways, I just think about these things sometimes. As a women, I speak and say that if anything is missing from various cultures, including that of America, it is the recognition of the importance and greatness of being a woman!
Last night I went to a party, which by the way is a slightly rare occasion on my part, but heck, you only live life once right? Anyways, I was just hanging out when this guy came up to me and we starting talking and he said "you know you guys run this party?" I didn't really understand what he meant, but he continued on... he explained that if there were no girls at the party, no party would exist. His rationale was that if there were no girls around, why would a bunch of random guys just get drunk and hang out all night?
Well it got me thinking... I mean that totally makes sense but if you delve just a little deeper into the issue it's almost like an epiphany--probably one that many people have come to think of, but I just finally realized!
Man needs woman. I mean, even if it was just a party with a bunch of guys sitting around drinking, I guarantee that at some point they'd be talking about women at some point in the night. It's just such an interesting thing to think about because if you look at history, there's basically a long past of women who were somewhat suppressed by male domination, with a few random queens and innately strong women running things-- Cleopatra, Kadisha, even the idea of Gaea and "Mother Earth." So as a woman, it makes me feel special on my part to think that if there were no woman in nature, what would be the point of man's existence. I mean what would come if Adam didn't have Eve or if Shiva was really only a man? We run this place because if man wants to exist in the future, it's a given that offspring are ideal.
My question is, when did women just let their powers slip? I mean I'm not really a feminist, I don't hate men, they're rather a fun and entertaining part of a well-rounded lifestyle. But look at the big picture: Women may not be so strong, they may be the "gatherers" of the hunter-gatherer lifestyle, but why do so many women live as if they were worth nothing without the attention of men? Why do they give in so easily to abuse or oppression in certain cultures when if anything, they should be worshiped simply because they exist? Is it that women are born simply knowing in their hearts that confrontation is a waste of energy, or do they only long to find a man who can give them meaning in their lives? Anyways, I just think about these things sometimes. As a women, I speak and say that if anything is missing from various cultures, including that of America, it is the recognition of the importance and greatness of being a woman!
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Natures Beings Amy Ouypron
I"m not sure where this one will lead to... but my intentions aimed to discuss something about the National Geographic Aboriginal Tribe video...
So here's a thought: how interesting is it the fact that commercialism and the always increasing industrialization of the world is not only taking a toll on the natural environment--land, water, the ozone--which then affects the animals within that environment, but indeed influxes the extinction of certain animals and (now brace yourself) the extinction of human beings. HUMAN BEINGS! So who gives a damn? I mean a large majority of the world would look at such peoples as the Aborigines and Yanamamo and various tribes throughout Africa and Tibet as "not so human." I mean any human who only knows how to appropriately cover his privates with a thin rag and a vine simply can't understand the full aspects of being human, right? Is it Darwinism, that these tribes couldn't figure out on their own how to advance their technology and organize their governments in order to keep up with the powerful imperial-based economies of the world?
Well I watched a video in my Anthropology class about a year ago. It was a documentary about a tribe in Africa that was once a hunter-gatherer society. Then the "white man" came and thought that by invading their "barbaric" community and teaching them about working and money and buying things, he might be civilizing these rather uncivilized beings. It was one of the most depressing documentaries I had ever witnessed. Now the tribe looked rather like peasants in torn up jeans and ripped t-shirts, no more tribal beads or body paint. Now some men sat all day carving figures of animals once used for ritual worship but were now for the purpose of being sent somewhere for tourists to purchase and brag about their travels. They were more like slaves cleaning the man's house and getting paid in pennies for it.
It's a depressing reality to think of all these beautiful natural beings, so in touch with their environments, but becoming extinct like the animals that inhabit such places. But I suppose I'm just one of many others who can talk the talk but aren't sure how to walk the walk.
So here's a thought: how interesting is it the fact that commercialism and the always increasing industrialization of the world is not only taking a toll on the natural environment--land, water, the ozone--which then affects the animals within that environment, but indeed influxes the extinction of certain animals and (now brace yourself) the extinction of human beings. HUMAN BEINGS! So who gives a damn? I mean a large majority of the world would look at such peoples as the Aborigines and Yanamamo and various tribes throughout Africa and Tibet as "not so human." I mean any human who only knows how to appropriately cover his privates with a thin rag and a vine simply can't understand the full aspects of being human, right? Is it Darwinism, that these tribes couldn't figure out on their own how to advance their technology and organize their governments in order to keep up with the powerful imperial-based economies of the world?
Well I watched a video in my Anthropology class about a year ago. It was a documentary about a tribe in Africa that was once a hunter-gatherer society. Then the "white man" came and thought that by invading their "barbaric" community and teaching them about working and money and buying things, he might be civilizing these rather uncivilized beings. It was one of the most depressing documentaries I had ever witnessed. Now the tribe looked rather like peasants in torn up jeans and ripped t-shirts, no more tribal beads or body paint. Now some men sat all day carving figures of animals once used for ritual worship but were now for the purpose of being sent somewhere for tourists to purchase and brag about their travels. They were more like slaves cleaning the man's house and getting paid in pennies for it.
It's a depressing reality to think of all these beautiful natural beings, so in touch with their environments, but becoming extinct like the animals that inhabit such places. But I suppose I'm just one of many others who can talk the talk but aren't sure how to walk the walk.
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