The Source

The source of what? You may ask. In this case, water, but really of thought.

I am reading a book titled "The Source" by Michener that can be described as a sweeping history, and introduction to the creativity of an archaeological dig or my favorite (credited to Dr. Nemitoff, Elana's dad) as "the best foray into and explanation of Jewish thought I've read"

Interesting, as this is a fictional piece. It follows a site at Makor Tell(ancient Hebrew word for "Source") as the lead archaeologist delves creatively into the possible stories surrounding the finds of his site.

Ive actually read this book several times, and each time I draw something new from the history it unfolds. This particular read is drawing more thoughts and questions than before. Possibly because I am older. Possibly because I have two years of college experience and education under my belt.

I began the book reading on the brand new plush carpet of a Rabbi's home, moving to a lonely shell of an apartment echoing of its true owner onto an evening curled up in my new apartment- with pieces of my past surrounding me adorning the new white plaster. Each time alone, each time in a place not truly mine, but mine for the instant.

Ill discuss my thoughts in increasing difficulty for me to write about, hoping to find a train to ride on. And who knows? I may end this post thinking something very different than how I began.

That's sort of the point, anyway.

First, the objects I surround myself with: the remnants of my own history, those remnants of other's histories halfhazardly slung in due to mere thrift, and the new pieces waiting to be broken in. If each of these did in fact have a spirit or a soul, I am sure they would be ruffled in their new location and with their new neighbors. My room was designed and oriented with one thought in mind-- don't block any of the windows pocketing three of the four walls. The room is primarily filled with light, secondly with my items, and thirdly with myself.

What does it mean to have things, items, and how much do I rely on the presence of these things for my stability? Is my room "mine" merely because I occupy the space as a being, because I pay for the room, or because I feel the need to fill it with items ranging in qualities of utility to decoration?

Which leads quickly to a similar thought-- one more typical of a book surrounding an archaeological dig. What will I leave behind? How will the material remains of my existence contrast with that of my legacy, if I have one? I am not concerned by what the people of the future in a similar station will think of me; I am driven by pure curiosity. What dichotomies exist already in my past? I have secrets, no more than the normal college student and no more dramatic either, but these secrets are what will probably be left behind of me. Records can speak louder than unrecorded deeds, good or bad.

So who am I? The person represented in the anonymous and taunting Manila file (or, digital file...) the person I am this instant with you, you who could be reading this as a stranger or as a friend, or am I the person I want to be? Like I said earlier, that's what I want to figure out this summer, but now I am adding a twist:

Whose judgment do I face beyond my own?

This book chronicles the history of a single inland site in the heart of the evolution of religion. Spirits evolved to gods, more importantly to my mind, spirits limited to things and places evolved into deities that knew no bounds and occupy no space.

Along the way, different gods have different amount of human character. Did they feel jealousy, fear, pain, love, hope, lust? Depended on the culture and the era. But what I find most interesting is most religions evolved in the same way. Does this verify each step in the process as a "truth" about gods? Or is it merely a comment on humans as a species and how they respond psychologically to the various types of civilization? (a hard term to use- I am not ranking any, merely pointing out there are different degrees of organization and the manifestations of such)

That is, is god a human construct like numbers and languages that share similar properties without contact? Or is/are god/gods real and they happen to manifest themselves to humans in similar ways?

I struggle with my own beliefs. My family is religious, but couldn't bring me to church as a kid and it fell out of habit by the time I could have gone. My dad (who I respect endlessly and often look to for advise on how to begin thinking about any subject) particularly seems firm in his belief, but feels no need to be public about it. My friends vary in commitment and in choice of religion. As mentioned above, one of my best friends is Jewish, I am dating a Catholic, I come from a long line of Irish Protestants, and I have had heavy influence from a variety of "Indian" or "Pre-Civilization" religions. (I use quotes become some people choose to label them as such but I don't feel like typing out all of my disagreements with the terms and then communicate what I mean without using the terms)

In a city? I feel nothing. I feel no need to approach this problem. My day to day dealings are governed by my trust that other human beings will not be stupid. I am vulnerable, as I sit in my car at a stop light, before I lock my door at night, simply eating food others have prepared, but the chaos is so loud I can not see beyond the individual free wills, and my thankfulness that up till now no one has succeeded in using that free will to cause me deadly harm.

In the outdoors, in the mountains, in the caves...all places I want to be. There, the laws of nature prevail and I am at the mercy of the rock I stand upon. There, I feel the emptiness....the desire to find/discover/create an all governing power. There I feel my weakness in a different way: my energy is so much less than what I am surrounded by. The forces of the world that create the mountains I so long for and love are "amazing" (in the true sense of the word). There I am confident in my belief.

I believe, simply, that most religions are explanations of energy and forces we can not otherwise explain. However, I also believe that science is missing the point somewhere and it will eventually discover a few things: 1) there will never be an end to science, we can never know everything and 2) there is a greater picture here. all forces and energies are in fact the same and emanate from one source. That is, the world is connected to itself and to all its pieces. Not in an "Avatar" sort of way (as someone once mocked my belief) but in a way closer to the spectrum religions develop on-- spirits of each being, absorbed into a greater being.

But this is obviously a mercurial belief, easily adjusted and often thought upon.

Today, I was supposed to go on a hike. But the weather looked bad and I made the self-preserving decision not to face such hard elements. Turned out to be a good decision, the rain caused flash floods and it hailed. It would have been a beautiful sight to see from the rock faces, alone, but its was also a beautiful sight to see with company through my house's stained glass windows. I hope one day I can face the beautiful lightning and stunning thunder from the slopes of some mountains, with the company of a friend. All of these forces coming together in a single moment...its, hm, hard to think about all at once. I could spend my life merely identifying all the factors that created the scene without truly analyzing or drawing a conclusion.

Which makes me believe that it will take someone much smarter or much dummer than me to ever be at peace and come to some conclusion. I can not come to a conclusion because I consider too many things yet can not form thoughts when bombarded with too many images.

I love the rain.

and thunderstorms.

the wooden floors vibrate with their approval of such unconquerable forces.

The Great Debate: Chem vs. Physics

I refuse to become one of those people who has to blog about every major decision before coming to a conclusion.

In the mean time...

A little background. When I was in high school, the primary goal was to get a soccer scholarship. As for what I wanted to study once I got to college? Who knew. It ranged from marketing to forensics to PT to whatever program the school had that was unique or particularly strong.

Then I got hurt, losing the scholarships that I was supposed to sign in the following weeks. Now what? O, school. Right, that thing I've been going to for the past 10 years of my life. That could be useful for something.

I somehow or another fell into Chemistry and latched onto it as the hope that would guide me through another four years of school. Which, to its credit, it was doing okay until this past semester.

I hate school. As in, the structure of school in general. I love to learn, and I tend to do better when left to my own devises and a list of people I can ask for help. Even now in classes, I learn the material...I don't memorize things. Thus I get A's in classes that ask me to think and B/C's in classes that feature tests that specialize in regurgitation techniques. Which is what chemistry sadly became last semester. And no, it wasn't just the professor, its the content.

I took Physics this year, as a good Chem student does, and found out that I loved the puzzles, the thinking, the theory. Especially quantum. I also started working in a lab in the Biomedical Magnetic Resonance division at the Med School and found that I was really interested in that sort of research, but couldn't necessarily see myself sticking with one project for my whole life.

I charted out the remaining two years of my education before picking classes for the Fall. Thanks to the new love of Physics and pressure from my research group, I designed a curriculum to take Physical Chemistry and Lab, four semesters of Quantum, Astrophysics and two more incredibly engaging labs called Radio Nuclear Chemistry and Physical Measurements.

This particular set of classes is two classes away from a Chemistry major, Inorganic and Inorganic lab, both of which I am dreading. Severely. I hate synthetic chemistry.

It is also a mere two classes away from a Physics major (E&M and mechanics). I wasnt aware of this fact until yesterday when somehow or another this all came up with Logan (as mentioned in the previous post) who promptly started pushing me towards the Physics major.

O, and the plot thickens. I bring this up with someone in my lab who said "Arent you going to the conference in Quebec next spring? How are you going to present this without a strong background in E&M? You really should take that class."

So now it comes down to this: Do I want to take Mechanics or Inorganic?

Do I want to abandon the subject (and dreams) that got me through two grueling years of dreaded schooling? Or, do I forget my excitement discovered in lab this year? Further, do I leave a department that, for whatever reason, has bent over backwards to keep me and leave it for one that was not particularly nice to me this semester and who is loosing the person who believes in me the most (Trousil is leaving!)?

I dont have to decide right now. This is something I can sit on until the end of the summer. The only changes that would be exacted for the Fall would be to drop the silly Archaeology class and pick up E&M. Which is a sharp work load increase, but its doable. Its 18 credits of classes, with 3 of them being a Theater class and another 3 of "Intro to Glass"....and the remaining 12 being Physics at heart.

Ultimately? I want to take two years off before going to grad school. Teach For America, doing ice-core research in Alaska, chasing a silly three-letter-type-agency dream, joining a Archaeological dig, hike around the Andes helping with a ethnobotanical study....something. Then grad school. For what? Imaging Sciences, Seismology, Physics, Chemistry? All of this could be done with either degree.

In the end? Its not going to matter much. Thus- I refuse to waste more than a minimal amount of energy over worry. I will graduate.

That's all that matters.

A Preview of Summer

It was brought to my attention that I tell a lot of stories.

Which is true, I suppose, but I tell them for a reason that you may not expect: to collect more stories. When anyone tells a story, it is quite likely that someone in the crowd had a similar or directly opposite experience. Not only do stories spark further discussion, they are at times like tiny psych experiments: how will someone respond, how will the group interact with the characters, does inflection create bias in story, how does the environment that its told in change the ability for people to be able to re-tell the story?

However, this is not what I propose my blog will be about.

My blog will be a place for me to tell my stories, achieve my own retrospective analysis independent of a direct audience. (If you are reading, good for you! I like commentary, so have at. But this is different in that I am finished by the time you comment) Reason for this is two fold; one, so I tell less stories in conversation, its annoying to other people; two, in order to spend more time thinking. Talking is an automatic reaction for me. Writing has been a problem since day one. So this is reflective.

So what is this summer about? Self assessment.

And how did this begin? In two situations...

One: Car ride to Kansas City, with Paul

Paul is my absolutely incredible boyfriend. But dont worry, Ill spare you my gushy and oddly committed commentary mostly because it shocks me to pieces. Anyway, he actually gets credit for prompting me to start this at all. Basically, he is gone for the summer. I get to see him for two days in July but otherwise I will be in radio silence until August 14ish which is sadly the week of my Orgo final. I have this summer to figure out and straighten out who I want to be, as an individual, before he comes back and my existence becomes closely tied to his again. Not to say that I loose my individuality, we just have a joint personality that is a bit different than the personality I share with say professors, parents and some friends. I am not sure where exactly I am headed, but I have some ideas. And he helped me realize this during this conversation.

Two: An evening with Logan and Joel

This is far more amusing. The night started with a proposal to eat a box of hamburger left in the freezer of the apartment I am living in until Sunday. Some how became a night of water beer pong, a long conversation that may ultimately convert me to a physics major, a 16 round match of Mario Cart 64, discussions of flamethrowers, skype, communication in relationships, zelda, world cup,, studying, and a weird battle where somehow I ended up shielding Joel only to be later smacked in the face by my ally by the ping pong balls. It was a typical night that I would have expected at the TKE house, so to find it off campus wasn't particularly surprising. I just apparently don't venture out enough anymore.

Is this a preview of my summer? Day spent in lab, evenings doing ridiculous things with friends, lunch break on here, reflecting on said events?

Who knows. We will see, with time.