New Beginnings–an import from my Cowbird story collection

Labor Day always reminds me of the end of summer (well, everyone is reminded of that!) but the beginning of school. OK, that is shared by many as well. But for people like me, we have never left school. I teach at the college level so I am anxiously awaiting the beginning of the fall semester. For most of my life September marks the beginning of a new academic year.
When I was young, I was the student, looking forward to new books, new teachers, new adventures, if some years a bit more apprehensively than others. Now I am on the other side of the desk and am wondering who will be in my classes and what will we explore together. I still get new books and supplies, some new clothes. But now I get the lists of new students and I always enter the classroom full of hope and promise, and excitement.
I love the quick shift here in the Northeast from sultry summer to crystal clear fall days.* For me autumn is the season of evolution–evolution into new ideas and new people, but always tinged by the touch of sadness. Time moves on and autumn so clearly, and gloriously, reminds us of that fact. Even as it relentlessly carries us towards the darkness of winter, it does so with a spectacular array of colors and e-ray days .
So, I anticipate the new academic year which begins right after Labor Day as I stand on the dock, waiting for the ferry to cross over the Sound and return me to the world of ideas and to the students who will surely look up from their cell phone and muse as to why I get so excited about mediaeval universals and the idea that one could prove the existence of God simply by thinking about it.
*If you are wondering why there is an asterisk next to the comment about clear fall days, here in New York we have the still raw memories of the events on 9/11/01. That day was the quintessential fall day: clear, bright, sunny, perfect. Until it was not. A “9/11 day” reminds us of the ephemeral nature of life. But let us focus instead on new beginnings and a new school year.
To any reader who is returning to school, in whatever guise, good luck! Then again, are we not all in school simply by living in the world?
And now you can decide what the bat image means…

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Clouds and time

I am thoroughly entranced by clouds these days… well, maybe all days.  They hover over us and define our days as sunny, stormy, crop-growing, stay-inside, or simply terrifying.  I like to think of clouds as landscapes upside down, floating continents, the history of the globe but sped up.

Or better yet, let us watch them moving…

 

Interiors/Exteriors

Apollo- in Delfi

Apollo- in Delfi

I recently returned from a educational trip to Rome and Greece with my students and those of colleagues.  As I walked around the Plaka and every small town that we visited on our Classical tour, I saw endless shops with souvenirs: from cheap trinkets to pricey replicas and interpretative artistic renderings.  All the students–and I–took hundreds of photos. In fact most of the time we viewed the ruins through the lens of a camera, be it a phone or fancy SLR.

On returning home our suitcases bulged with objects acquired along every stop of the way.  And this got me thinking: have we replaced interior experiences and memories with exterior objects, things?  As a culture we own more stuff than any previous generation  in the entire history of the world.  Museum visits always end–sometimes start–with a visit to the museum store.  We start them young. Disney and Pixar movies are accompanied by merchandise, often before the movie is even released.  What does this all mean, apart from enterprising Capitalism?  DSCF0462

Have we replaced our memories with physical objects to record our lives?  Photos rather than recall?  Souvenirs rather than imagining walking through the ruins at Delfi, Olympia, Corinth?  We seem not to trust the transformative and enveloping experience itself and want some physical trace to represent our travels, both near and far.  We are our possessions, rather than our gathered thoughts, feelings, recollections.  As Plato noted in the Symposium, we are entranced by beauty, lulled by the glow of shiny things.  But we must also move beyond this level of simple understanding to a higher/deeper entrancement.

sunset in NauplioI spent one evening sitting on the pier in Nauplio watching the sun set behind the mountains, across the gulf.  Every other minute I was compelled to take a picure and I watched every passerby do much the same.  We could not but look at the beauty that radiated from the sunset through the clouds, illuminating the water and the small Venetian fort in the harbor.  We humans long for beauty in a deep and irrevocable way that translates into desire– a pure, simply, passionate desire to own and to have that beauty.

But what are we really seeking here? Johann Gottfried Herder captured this best in his poem , Ein Traum:

Ein Traum, ein Traum ist unser Leben
Auf Erden hier;
Wie Schatten auf den Wogen schweben
Und schwinden wir
Und messen unsere trägen Schritte
Nach Raum und Zeit
Und sind, wir wissen´s nicht, in Mitte
Der Ewigkeit.

We are indeed in the middle of eternity and the things we cling to will vanish.  Only memory  lives on.