"...without at all giving expression to what I think, I consider all this in my own mind, words yet occasionally impede my progress..." Rene Descartes

Sunday, October 16, 2011

And Just When You Thought....

...We had nothing in common with the little ones...


The Little Lives Of Earth And Form
by Philip Larkin 
The little lives of earth and form,
Of finding food, and keeping warm,
Are not like ours, and yet
A kinship lingers nonetheless:
We hanker for the homeliness
Of den, and hole, and set.

And this identity we feel
- Perhaps not right, perhaps not real -
Will link us constantly;
I see the rock, the clay, the chalk,
The flattened grass, the swaying stalk,
And it is you I see.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

And Just When You Thought....

...You could only dig deep with a shovel...


Digging

By Seamus Heaney
 
Between my finger and my thumb   
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.

Under my window, a clean rasping sound   
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:   
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds   
Bends low, comes up twenty years away   
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills   
Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft   
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade.   
Just like his old man.

My grandfather cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner’s bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I’ll dig with it.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

And Just When You Thought...

 ...Purity was a state of mind...

 

 Hawk Roosting

By Ted Hughes
I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.
Inaction, no falsifying dream
Between my hooked head and hooked feet:
Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.

The convenience of the high trees!
The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray
Are of advantage to me;
And the earth's face upward for my inspection.

My feet are locked upon the rough bark.
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot

Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -
I kill where I please because it is all mine.
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads -

The allotment of death.
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living.
No arguments assert my right:

The sun is behind me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My eye has permitted no change.
I am going to keep things like this.

Monday, September 26, 2011

And Just When You Thought....

....

 

If I could tell you

Time will say nothing but I told you so,
Time only knows the price we have to pay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.

If we should weep when clowns put on their show,
If we should stumble when musicians play,
Time will say nothing but I told you so.

There are no fortunes to be told, although,
Because I love you more than I can say,
If I could tell you I would let you know.

The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,
There must be reasons why the leaves decay;
Time will say nothing but I told you so.

Perhaps the roses really want to grow,
The vision seriously intends to stay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.

Suppose the lions all get up and go,
And all the brooks and soldiers run away;
Will Time say nothing but I told you so?
If I could tell you I would let you know.
 
W. H. Auden (1907 - 1973)

Sunday, September 18, 2011

And Just When You Thought.....

 ....Pretty was objective...

This week I was impressed by the Stevie Smith poem "Pretty" that we read in class, so I went and read several of her other poems. As it turns out, many of her poems (the ones that I found anyway, and of course, in my opinion) were quite dark. However, I did find one that I would like to share, that I likewise enjoyed and found very good along with her poem "Pretty". 


Stevie Smith

Pretty
by Stevie Smith

Why is the word pretty so underrated?
In November the leaf is pretty when it falls.
The stream grows deep in the woods after rain.
And in the pretty pool the pike stalks.

He stalks his prey, and this is pretty too,
The prey escapes with an underwater flash.
But not for long, the great has him now.
The pike is a fish who always has his prey

And this is pretty. The water rat is pretty.
His paws are not webbed; he cannot shut his nostrils
As the otter can and the beaver; he is torn between
The land water. Not 'torn he does not mind.

The owl hunts in the evening, and it is pretty.
The lake water below him rustles with ice.
There is frost coming from the ground, in the air mist.
All this is pretty; it could not be prettier.

Yes, it could always be prettier, the eye abashes.
It is becoming an eye that cannot see enough,
Out of the wood the eye climbs. This is prettier.
A field in the evening, tilting up.

The field tilts to the sky. Though it is late,
The sky is lighter than the hill field.
All this looks easy, but really, it is extraordinary.
Well, it is extraordinary to be so pretty.

And it is careless, and that is always pretty.
This field, this owl, this pike, this pool are careless.
As Nature is always careless and indifferent.
Who sees, who steps, means nothing, and this is pretty.

So a person can come along like a thief-pretty!
Stealing a look, pinching the sound and feel,
Lick the icicle broken from the bank,
And still say nothing at all, only cry pretty.

Cry pretty, pretty, pretty, and you'll be able
Very soon not even to cry pretty.
And so to be delivered entirely from humanity.
This is prettiest of all, it is very pretty. 

Alone in the Woods
by Stevie Smith

Alone in the woods I felt
The bitter hostility of the sky and the trees
Nature has taught her creatures to hate
Man that fusses and fumes
Unquiet man
As the sap rises in the trees
As the sap paints the trees a violent green
So rises the wrath of Nature's creatures
At man
So paints the face of Nature a violent green.
Nature is sick at man
Sick at his fuss and fume
Sick at his agonies
Sick at his gaudy mind
That drives his body
Ever more quickly
More and more
In the wrong direction.




Sunday, September 11, 2011

''But the past is just the same,—and War's a bloody game. . . .Have you forgotten yet? . . . Look down, and swear by the slain of the War that you'll never forget.''
  - Sassoon



Invocation
   by Siegfried Sassoon

Come down from heaven to meet me when my breath
Chokes, and through drumming shafts of stifling death
I stumble toward escape, to find the door
Opening on morn where I may breathe once more
Clear cock-crow airs across some valley dim
With whispering trees. While dawn along the rim
Of night’s horizon flows in lakes of fire,
Come down from heaven’s bright hill, my song’s desire.

Belov’d and faithful, teach my soul to wake
In glades deep-ranked with flowers that gleam and shake
And flock your paths with wonder. In your gaze
Show me the vanquished vigil of my days.
Mute in that golden silence hung with green,
Come down from heaven and bring me in your eyes
Remembrance of all beauty that has been,
And stillness from the pools of Paradise.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

And Just When you Thought...

...Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori...
(It is sweet and fitting/right to die for one's country)

The poem "Dulce et Decorum est"by Wilfred Owen is in my opinion one of the most moving anti-war poems I have ever read. With this work, Owen illustrates the start reality of war, and the contradictions in pro-war propaganda. Owen is known, along with his friend Siegfried Sassoon, as one of the leading English poets of the First World War. He wrote this poem during WWI, and was later killed in action on November 4, 1918.


The title of the poem comes from a line in the Roman lyrical work by Horace entitled "Odes" and was originally a poem that encouraged "Roman citizens to develop martial prowess such that the enemies of Rome, in particular the Parthians, will be too terrified to resist them." Given that knowledge, the poem by Wilfred Owen becomes even more compelling, as he clearly shows that there is nothing "sweet" or "fitting" in the horrors of war and significantly challenges the propaganda of his time.

Dulce Et Decorum Est
by Wilfred Owen (1893 – 1918)

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots 
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud 
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest 
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.


To read more about Wilfred Own you can visit The Wilfred Own Collection at The First World War Digital Poetry Archive, or the Wilfred Owen page at Poets.org.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

And Just When You Thought....

....Things had already reached a pinnacle of High Weirdness...

Things just keep getting curiouser and curiouser...

This was in the kid's section of the Target Catalog... "Move objects with brainwave activity."


And here is the latest technology from Japan.... "Necomimi Neurowear"

 

Creeping me out to say the very least. 

Sunday, May 1, 2011

And Just When You Thought...

...Spring Was Here Already...

April Showers are good and all, but record tornadoes, flooding, and 45 degree weather? Not so much.
Where exactly did the natural seasons we all know and love run off to?

Another Spring
by Christina Rossetti

If I might see another Spring
  I'd not plant summer flowers and wait:
I'd have my crocuses at once,
My leafless pink mezereons,
  My chill-veined snowdrops, choicer yet
  My white or azure violet,
Leaf-nested primrose; anything
  To blow at once not late.

If I might see another Spring
  I'd listen to the daylight birds
That build their nests and pair and sing,
Nor wait for mateless nightingale;
  I'd listen to the lusty herds,
  The ewes with lambs as white as snow,
I'd find out music in the hail
  And all the winds that blow.

If I might see another Spring--
  O stinging comment on my past
That all my past results in "if"--
  If I might see another Spring
I'd laugh to-day, to-day is brief;
  I would not wait for anything:
  I'd use to-day that cannot last,
  Be glad to-day and sing.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

...And Just When You Thought...

....No One Was Afraid of Virginia Woolf....

Well, as for my commentary of Virginia Woolf...I could go on as others have done about the great influence that she has been on the world of women writers, or about the division between men and women, her controversial relationships and mental state, or perhaps about the "innovative" style that she employed, however, as the saying goes -

If you can't say anything nice about someone (and believe me I could try - but in all honesty I intend to avoid insincerity and), say nothing at all.

Monday, April 18, 2011

...And Just When You Thought....

...You had Time to Waste...

Our readings in class this week (The Waste Land, The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock, When You are Old, and The Dead) seemed to revolve around the ideas of Love,Time, and the point at which the two meet. The fact that one should reflect on and be oneself and not take things for granted in life are also things that these works have in common. I am struck with thoughts of how Love is immortal and life is short. It is important to remember that some phrases are only cliche because they have been over used, luckily this has no effect on their value in truthfulness. That being said, let the onslaught of proverbial sayings begin....


Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

A single moment of understanding can flood a whole life with meaning.

Strike while the iron is hot.

Be who you are because those who matter won't mind and those who mind don't matter.

Time and tide wait for no man.

The heart that loves is always young.

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.

A ship in the harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.

Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.

Time cuts down all, both great and small. 

That which does not kill us makes us stronger.

Half a loaf is better than no bread.

There's no time like the present.

And of course,

The Pen is Mightier than the Sword.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

...And Just When You Thought...


.....You Could Trust a Goblin....

 Filled with poignant imagery and symbolism, “The Goblin Market” by Christina Rossetti is a tale of two sisters that are haunted by the calls of the goblins to buy their fruit. The goblin creatures walk up and down the street and lyrically tempt the girls “In tones as smooth as honey” by describing the various rare and unique fruits. The narrator tells us that the fruits they have to offer “Men sell not such in any town” and from the very beginning the implications of these goods is one of an almost evil nature. Although the theme of the story is somewhat ambiguous in specific meaning and has been interpreted in many ways, it is clear that Rossetti is alluding to fruits that are prohibited and detrimental to one’s well being. “The Goblin Market” describes the dangers that are associated with the hasty acquisition of self satisfaction, and the way in which humility and patience are more difficult to accomplish – yet much more nourishing and rewarding to one’s spirit.


At the beginning of the tale, the two sisters are described in such a way that their innocence is plain, and the bond that they have together is strong. One could even say that they may be two sides of the same person, or that the story is presenting the reader with a kind of duality between the two; a dark side and a light side. Lizzie is afraid of the goblins and their song and urges Laura against paying them any attention, yet Laura watches them and is increasingly tempted to taste their fruits. One wants to listen, while the other “blushes” at the song of the goblins implying that they sing of things that are not spoken of lightly. 

The unnatural and animalistic nature of the goblins points to the idea that their fruits are not of this world, and that their intentions are nefarious. However, despite her sisters warnings and the consequences that another girl had faced by eating the fruits, Laura is intrigued and eventually gives in to the temptation promoted by the goblins. 


 Agreeing to give the goblins a lock of hair as payment, Laura engorges herself on the forbidden fruits:

She sucked and sucked and sucked the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore,
She sucked until her lips were sore;
Then flung the emptied rinds away

These lines allude to the addictive and poisonous nature of the goblin fruit, as do the next few lines when we see that she has completely lost track of time and “knew not was it night or day.” When she returns, she tells Lizzie not to worry, and she seems to want the fruit even more now – she even wants to share it with her sister. The next day however, we begin to see the effects of her rash deeds on her mental state as the two are talking:

Lizzie with an open heart,
Laura in an absent dream,
One content, one sick in part;
One warbling for the mere bright day's delight,
One longing for the night.

She soon falls into a deep malcontent, and stops eating or doing any chores on their farm. All she can think of are the goblins fruits, but can no longer hear them calling out to buy and she eventually begins to waste away.


           Her sister, however, can still hear the goblins cry because she has yet to fall prey to their devices. It is not for herself that she is tempted to buy the fruit, but for her sister in the hopes that it may cure her of her malady. Finally, she can take it no longer and goes out with the intent of buying some of the goblins fruit with coin. The goblins do not want coin however, they want her to eat - and their evil nature is revealed at the notion that Lizzie will not partake.

No longer wagging, purring,
But visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling.
One called her proud,
Cross-grained, uncivil;
Their tones waxed loud,
Their looks were evil.

Lizzie is steadfast in her declaration to not eat the fruit, and is brutally assaulted by the creatures because of this unfaltering stance. The narrator compares her to a tree being assaulted by stinging insects and the next few lines point to the significance of her personal determination and control of her actions:

Like a royal virgin town
             Topped with gilded dome and spire
             Close beleaguered by a fleet            
      Mad to tear her standard down.
    One may lead a horse to water,
   Twenty cannot make him drink 


The goblins assault is not successful, and even though they smear her with fruit attempting to force her to eat she holds strong. Ultimately the goblins give up, and kicking their precious fruits away they all disappear leaving Lizzie alone and covered in fruit juices. She happily returns home and encourages Laura to kiss her to retrieve the fruit pulp and in doing so restores Laura to her original vigor.

Setting aside the contextual symbolism of sin or lustful temptation in the fruits that Laura becomes addicted to, the more interesting aspect is how she acquired them in the first place. She was so eager and easy to sway in regards to tasting these forbidden morsels, that she put the cart before the horse so to speak. Had she been more mindful and thought about the implications of being so rash, she would have been especially mindful of the fact that it was not the act of buying that the goblins were after. Due to her willingness to sacrifice her cognitive abilities she was sorely lacking in the suspicion worthy of the goblins taking her hair as payment. It was not money that they were after, but something much dearer - her personal volition to make up her own mind. Nothing in this world can be acquired so easily as to substitute golden hair for gold, but her mesmerized and greedy state kept her from due mistrust. Her self-serving urges took over, and thus she paid a much higher price for the fruit.


Lizzie, on the other hand has a humble and more mindful perspective, and thinks of others before herself. She knows that it is wrong to expect something so fleeting to hold so much significance. Her sacrifice was far greater and thus her reward was as well, this is the lesson Rossetti is illustrating with the events in “The Goblin Market.” Lizzie is more resolute in her personal decisions as well, and is not so easily swayed – be it by the song of the goblins, or the temptation of their otherworldly fruits. The fruits are “honey to the throat/But poison in the blood.” While honey is sweet and a reward to the tongue, it is momentary and transitory. The blood is the life-force and constant. While Laura’s reward was short lived and self serving, and the consequences she faced extremely detrimental (poisonous) in light of such a shallow indulgence; Lizzie’s willing sacrifice for her sister is more admirable and treacherous in nature, and thus the reward is “life out of death.”
While Christina Rossetti has been known to incorporate different aspects of heavy symbolism in her poetry and works at its roots, this story is about not giving in to fleeting  rewards, but to have foresight into the rewards due to those who sacrifice the most.


For the full text of "The Goblin Market" you can read it here.

For different perspectives on the symbolism of this story and discussion about the many levels involved, you can visit this page or this location.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

...And Just When You Thought...

....Poetry Was All About the Words...


Reading the various poets in class this week has really got me thinking about the complexity of poetry and the many variations in the works of different poets. I love how poetry seems to transcend words, and somehow gives new weight and breathes new life into the vocabulary we have to work with. Using symbolism and metaphor along with other literary devices can open up a whole new world where words are concerned. The talent that poets display with these tools never ceases to amaze me, and the freedom implied by poetry is always refreshing to my psyche. Where vocabulary and the strict rules of grammar can be stifling, poetry breaks free and is almost intangible - un-chainable - in its efforts to urge us to expand our awareness and perspective. Even these few words that I have just written cannot begin to describe the power that is held in poetry...or the frustration of words limitations.

Insufficiency 
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

When I attain to utter forth in verse
Some inward thought, my soul throbs audibly
Along my pulses, yearning to be free
And something farther, fuller, higher, rehearse
To the individual, true, and the universe,
In consummation of right harmony:
But, like a wind-exposed distorted tree,
We are blown against for ever by the curse
Which breathes through Nature. Oh, the world is weak !
The effluence of each is false to all,
And what we best conceive we fail to speak.
Wait, soul, until thine ashen garments fall,
And then resume thy broken strains, and seek
Fit peroration without let or thrall.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

And Just When you Thought...

....The Monster Was Inhuman...

“It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity.”

“Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of Truth and Knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the gods.”

                                                                                    - Albert Einstein


Our reading of Frankenstein (The Modern Prometheus) by Mary Shelley in Brit. Lit. this week has really brought the subject of Hubris to my mind in many ways. Last semester I wrote a lengthy paper about the pride involved in Nathaniel Hawthorne's story "The Birthmark." Very good short story if you are so inclined to read it, and remotely interested in the symbolic works of Hawthorne - which I surely am. I found there to be some interesting parallels between these two stories of tragic hubris.  
The Birthmark has been described as a modern Pygmalion tale, and tells of a scientifically inclined man who is haunted by his wife's birthmark - to the point that he desires to remove it by any means.
Pygmalion desires no woman alive, so he creates a woman of his own out of stone and falls in love with his "perfect" creation. He too is not satisfied with what nature (God) has given him on Earth, and desires to be God by creating what he himself deems to be beautiful and perfect. Like Pygmalion, Hawthorne's alchemist Aylmer in The Birthmark desires his wife to be a "perfect" example of beauty - begging questions in the reader about the definition of beauty and perfection, as well as the dangers of wanting to create more from nature than has been warranted to humankind; the desire to be the creator.


I took The Birthmark, and likewise Frankenstein, to be examples of hubris or "pride before the Gods," and allegories about the dangers of desiring more than is naturally available to mankind. In Greek mythology, hubris is a term that is both indicative of an excessive arrogance or self righteousness, and a challenging attitude towards the Gods that eventually leads to the downfall of such a presumptuous individual. Concerning hubris, one can also be reminded of the tale of Lucifer in the Bible, and his arrogance before his creator. Although an angel, he too desired to be God or have Godlike knowledge, and thus his pride gets him cast out of Heaven.


Mary Shelly's Frankenstein can be seen as an allegory on creation, and the possible perspectives that those created may have towards their creator. Shelley has even been known to call the monster in Frankenstein "Adam" in reference to the first man in Genesis. And in the novel the Monster says to Victor, " Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed.” This makes an interesting trinity between God, Frankenstein, and his created simulacrum the Monster.
 In Frankenstein, the mad scientist Victor becomes obsessed with the works of the same Alchemists that influenced Aylmer's hubristic acts towards his wife in The Birthmark; Cornelius Agrippa, Paracelsus and Albertus Magnus. Both characters also desire to uncover the "hidden secrets of nature" and in doing so fancy themselves capable of Godlike actions or improving what has been given to humanity in the natural world.


We also see a second type of trinity in the characters of Victor, Clerval, and Elizabeth. They could represent the physical, moral, and spiritual respectively. This is very similar to the trinity portrayed in The Birthmark of Aylmer as "spirit" or God, his assistant Aminadab as nature or Humankind, and his wife Georgiana as the combination of the two. Like Aylmer, Victor's downfall comes from his desire to have the power of the Gods, while his two closest friends are examples of just that. He is not satisfied with his creation, is even disgusted by it, because it was not an individual he really desired but the power of the Gods.


By the end of The Modern Prometheus, the reader can infer that Victor could be seen as God, and some say that it is he who Shelley is referring to as Prometheus. However, there are several differing versions of the Greek myth, and Prometheus may be embodied by the Monster - a kind of symbolic indirect human representative or human race created from clay. Regardless, the nature of humanity and the destructive nature of pride is at the crux of the emotional effect that the reader experiences with regards to Frankenstein's Monster. We feel for the Monster, he is innocent and childlike. We empathize with his loneliness and the position into which he has been placed due to Victor's pride.


In fact, the roles of Monster and Human seem to almost switch, as we see Victor abandon his childlike creation, and realize that despite their outward appearances, the monster may be more human than his creator. In this trinity of creator and created, Shelly has built a complex structure of comparison between God and Man. One can feel the difference between how Victor behaves with the life that he has been given, his feelings of abhorrence for his own creation, and the attitude of the monster towards his creator and the unnatural life that he has been born into.


The reader can identify with the monster because he represents the "not knowing" and self awareness that is inherent in humanity. The Monster represents the subjective human emotions that we all have, the desire to fit in, be loved, and be regarded with respect from others. We are not however meant to be Gods, and thus we are left relying on faith and we struggle with our lack of foreknowledge.



Just as Victor foolishly acts on his hubris towards his creator, so too does the Monster become a participant in his own downfall when he takes vengeance towards his own creator and feels remorse when he is gone. These insights make all the more potent the subtitle of this novel, as the root of the Greek word Prometheus is "foresight." Foresight can be seen as one of a few combatants against hubris and the resulting regret that always follows such arrogance. In this instance however, I believe that Shelly is referring more to the Greek myth of Prometheus and that the etymology behind his name is an added ironic aside.


In Hesiod's Theogony, Prometheus tricks Zeus into taking an offering of bones wrapped in fat and in retaliation, Zeus hides the gift of fire from humanity. Not to be outdone by the Gods, Prometheus steals fire back and returns it to the humans and is punished severely for this crime. In some versions of the tale, Prometheus is even said to be the creator of mankind. These aspects of the different versions lead one to believe that it is indeed the Mad scientist that is Prometheus, especially considering his trickster like nature and pride.



The best stories seem to be the ones that make us, the reader, feel strongly for the characters and learn from what is reflected or implied in the writing. Just as the symbolism behind the birthmark in Hawthorne's tale of hubris can be interpreted in several ways, Frankenstein is open to the perspective of the reader. But even in interpretative writing, some things are meant to be gleaned from the story for certain. There is reader interpretation, but there is usually a core message that the writer hopes will come across in their arrangement of events and characters. In these two tales it is the dangers of hubris and acts that cross the line from human, into the unnatural.


If you would like to read Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Birthmark you can do so here.
You can also read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein here.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

And Just When You Thought.....

 ...You Always Think Things Through...

Today is not just the day that Elizabeth Taylor clawed her way into the world 79 years ago, it is also the date that - 75 years ago - the influential Russian physiologist Ivan Pavlov passed away. Does that name ring any bells...?

Born in September of 1849, Ivan Petrovich Pavlov's name is often heard in the idiom "Pavlov's dog," with regards to any situation where your reaction to stimuli is due to some sort of conditioning. Held in high regard by none other than Vladimir Lenin, Pavlov proved the existence of the "conditioned reflex." 

He behaviorally trained dogs by combining the ringing of a bell with the act of being fed, and eventually the dogs would salivate in reaction to the sound of the bell. Well, perhaps a bell - according to Wikipedia "his writings record the use of a wide variety of stimuli, including electric shocks, whistles, metronomes, tuning forks, and a range of visual stimuli, in addition to ringing a bell."

In essence this means that he proved that the dog's mind no longer thought about food, but the dog's body (salivary glands specifically) reacted to the sound involuntarily and its body associated the sound with food.

Surprisingly, Wikipedia also cryptically points out, "It is less widely known that Pavlov's experiments on the conditional reflex extended to children, some of whom apparently underwent surgical procedures, similar to the dogs, for the collection of saliva." I guess they didn't want to elaborate too much on that. 
Probably because all one has to do is extend the connection between Pavlov's dog(s) and your average fast food and television addicted or shopaholic human in the 21st century - and it may become all too apparent that there is not much difference between the "conditioned reflex" and well, simply put, "brainwashing." 

Plus, admit it, the idea of this guy being around kids and experimenting on them is downright creepy - there's an involuntary response for ya.

Pavlov laid the groundwork for the in depth study of behavioral modification, and behavioral conditioning, and many psychologists and even sociologists built upon his experiments. He had shown that eventually people can also be controlled (just like dogs) to do things at the behest of an entrained stimuli. 

Long after his theories have been perfected and ramped up with new technologies, we can look around today and see that his concept has taken on a new life. Like Edward Bernays, Pavlov also believed in the Hive Mind, or Herd Mentality. The amount of stimuli to which we are exposed that implicitly instructs us to react without critical thinking is enormous - and usually done without the best of intentions (for you and me anyway). Pavlovian responses are teased out of us on a daily basis. Think about it. No, I mean really think about it.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

And Just When You Thought...

...I would write a long post after last week...

Once again I am slammed with things to do, so although my last post was also lacking in much wordage and writing effort I will again be posting videos this week.

This is a poet and teacher that one of my professors showed our class - his name is Taylor Mali. I thought he could entertain you while I work on a post of more substance. Those that are education majors should really appreciate his presentations.

Taylor Mali on Conviction...


Taylor Mali on what teachers make...




Taylor Mali "Miracle Workers"


Taylor Mali's website

Sunday, February 6, 2011

And just when you thought...

...Architecture wasn't art...

Meet Antoni Gaudi.
Gaudi was an amazing architectural artist from the late 1800's into the early 1900's, he created magnificent works of art nouveau, mainly in Barcelona, Spain. I must say, if I were forced to choose a favorite artist it would be Gaudi. He created architecture and furniture, but in a unique manner that goes beyond anything that I have ever seen. He had an ability to blend the organic contours and forms of nature into his structures, and took lessons from what God had already given as original artistic example. Each building that he created is a testament of creativity and a resistance to artificiality of monumental proportion. His use of various mediums, mosaic, texture, and especially flowing form in his structures is genuine, inspirational, and pure creative genius.

Casa Batllo - Barcelona, Spain  
Image copyright cambridge2000.com

Photo © Adrian Beesley/iStockPhoto.com

Inside Casa Batllo
Casa Batllo in Barcelona (c) Linda Garrison
   
 
Casa Batllo in Barcelona (c) Linda Garrison

 
 Casa Mila (La Pedrera) Barcelona, Spain

Image copyright cambridge2000.com


Image credit:Espana Tourism
Park Guell Barcelona, Spain
http://www.flickr.com/photos/ironmanixs/220311766/

Sagrada Familia Barcelona, Spain
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bpc009/3619757655/

Photo: http://lifeinmegapixels.com

To learn more about Antoni Gaudi and to see more pictures, you can visit It is Creation, or Gaudi Designer.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

And Just When You Thought....

...Propaganda doesn't happen in the USA...

Allow me to introduce Edward Bernays.


















AKA "The Father of PR," "The Father of Spin"
Edward Bernays is the nephew of another promoter of despicable ideas, Sigmund Freud. If you have ever heard of the "Herd Mentality" or "Crowd Psychology," you should definitely read up on him.
Life Magazine named him "one of the 100 most influential Americans of the 20th century," and we have him to thank for many of the tactics used in the advertising, politics, and marketing of today's world. Bernays was a huge promoter of propaganda and the use of the subconscious as a means to manipulate public opinion, and even wrote a book entitled "The Manufacturing of Consent." Oh yeah, and one entitled simply "Propaganda."

If you think that he couldn't possibly influence anyone in high places, realize that he worked hand in hand with many large companies and leaders.
 After all, he himself stated:
"If you can influence the leaders, either with or without their conscious cooperation, you automatically influence the group which they sway."
Perhaps you feel that his tactics were benign in intent...you are of course, entitled to your opinion, but I for one find it insulting. I know, shame on me.


Here are some other quotes from the friend and adviser to the American Tobacco Company, Procter & Gamble, The American Dental Association, Chiquita Brands International, Cartier Inc. Best Foods, CBS
, General Electric, Dodge Motors, and the fluoridationists of the Public Health Service. In fact, he's even the reason that bacon and eggs became a popular breakfast...
"The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the organized habits and opinions of the masses is an important element in democratic society." Edward Bernays
"If we understand the mechanism and motives of the group mind, it is now possible to control and regiment the masses according to our will without them knowing it." Edward Bernays
"It is not necessary for the politician to be the slave to the public's group prejudices, if he can learn how to mold the mind of the voters in conformity with his own ideas of public welfare and public service. The important thing for the statesman of our age is not so much to know how to please the public, but know how to sway the public." Edward Bernays
And there is this creepy admission:
"In the ethical sense, propaganda bears the same relation to education as to business or politics. It may be abused. It may be used to over-advertise an institution and to create in the public mind artificial values. There can be no absolute guarantee against its misuse." Edward Bernays
"Artificial values"...what is he talking about??? Any ideas? But it was okay to create his "values" in the public mind, right?


Just one example of modern propaganda would be the "Obey" campaign by Shepard Fairey. 






Shepard Fairey's website even calls it propaganda, and claims that it has been "Manufacturing Quality Dissent since 1989." Ironic...wouldn't it actually be more accurate to say that they were Manufacturing Assent? How exactly are they manufacturing dissent, and calling it propaganda at the same time? After all, don't they want people to buy their clothes? Notice that this is also a play on words of Bernays' book "Manufacturing of Consent." 


Propaganda definitions: 
"Propaganda is the deliberate, systematic attempt to shape perceptions, manipulate cognitions, and direct behavior to achieve a response that furthers the desired intent of the propagandist."
(Garth Jowett and Victoria O'Donnell, Propaganda and Persuasion, 4th ed. Sage Publications, p. 7)

"Propaganda is neutrally defined as a systematic form of purposeful persuasion that attempts to influence the emotions, attitudes, opinions, and actions of specified target audiences for ideological, political or commercial purposes through the controlled transmission of one-sided messages (which may or may not be factual) via mass and direct media channels. A propaganda organization employs propagandists who engage in propagandism—the applied creation and distribution of such forms of persuasion."
(Richard Alan Nelson, A Chronology and Glossary of Propaganda in the United States (1996) pp. 232-233)

Wikipedia states that "Propaganda is generally an appeal to emotion, not intellect. It shares techniques with advertising and public relations, each of which can be thought of as propaganda that promotes a commercial product or shapes the perception of an organization, person, or brand."














The Saks 5th Ave. new Spring Ad Campaign "empowers" women buy urging them to buy ridiculously expensive purses...














...and demands that you "Want It."





There is a documentary put out by the BBC called "The Century of the Self" concerning this very topic that may interest you if you would like to learn more. You can watch it free in its entirety here or here. Keep in mind that it is not for the faint of heart...

How about you? Do you feel like you have been or are being "persuaded" or "manipulated" into giving consent in your everyday life? Remember, Ivan Pavlov proved that a reward system can be quite powerful...whether the reward is real or imaginary. Are you reacting, or thinking?