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As beautiful as the idea of being comfortable with silence is, wrapping my head around actually performing silent activities is a different story. I was impressed by how fulfilling silence is for Linda-Susan Beard, and I thought a lot about my own restorative practices. For me, talking has always been restorative. Not shallow or surface conversation, but the kind of talking where two people come together form a different kind of understanding. For me, thinking has always been a vocal and collaborative process rather than a silent and internalized one. I was told once that there have been studies done on cats where a cat was placed in a room with no stimuli and they were essentially brain dead- no activity went on when there was nothing stimulating a response. I can’t remember who told me this or even if it’s true, but when I’m alone, I feel like those cats. I feel muted, stunted- that without the benefit of another person to think with me, I’m unable to think fully. After hearing Linda-Susan Beard talk about how fulfilling silence was for her, I wondered if we were both talking about the same kind of restoration, even if we achieved it in different ways. She spoke of feeding off of silence in a way that seemed very similar to how I feed off of conversation; it is sustaining.

Negative spaces have always been interesting for me, not only in an artistic sense but in as an everyday occurrence- I think they speak volumes, especially about people. I’ve always liked seeing and observing what spaces exist between people. However, I had never thought about “hearing” or “feeling” negative spaces. I’ve been thinking a lot about blindness and the way in which not seeing necessitates you to “place” your body- it becomes all the more important to understand where you are, what is around you and where you are going. The environment you are in no longer becomes the background but a very important foreground. The only reason I knew where I was a given time was based on sounds and light variations. I knew we were near the road when I could hear cars, and I knew from the sound of the wind in the trees in my right ear that senior row was to the left of us. I knew we were in the woods and under senior row when the ever-present dot of light representing the sun flickered from interfering leaves and trees. When we were told to beware of an intrusive object possibly in our path, I instinctively and reflexively would put out my hand, in hopes that I could “feel” my place and know where not to walk. Finding these negative spaces through feeling and hearing instead of vision becomes necessary to find the safe spaces, in order to place your body within a context or environment.

I wrote this paper with Srucara: 

/exchange/econversations-assembly-dialogue-podcasts-questions-textual-references-representation-stories-patter

There is a radio show called This American Life that recently did a show entitled Animal Sacrifice. The second act of the show was about rabbits that were kidnapped from the Portland Meat Collective. The segment addresses ideas about vegetarianism, different opinions on killing animals, and human connectedness/disconnectedness from the food we eat. I thought this was very relevant to what we have been discussing in class

Here is this link if you want to listen: http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/480/animal-sacrifice

You can listen to the whole thing or just act two.

Sitting behind Rhodes with the clouds looming overhead was an unfortunate way to end my sight sit postings. Watching flocks of geese fly south reminded me of how quickly time passes, and left me wishing that I had appreciated time more. When I say "appreciated time", I'm not referring to my first semester at Bryn Mawr specifically, but rather to the appreciation of time in general. I don't like that my first semester of college is nearly over, and it feels like it has been no time at all. I realize that it's not ideal to fixate on every moment in life, but I'm hardpressed to find a way to savor my time--especially as a college undergraduate. I don't want graduation to roll around and feel as disoriented as I do now, with finals looming ahead, wondering how I got here and feeling almost as foggy as the weather. I have a strong desire to validate my feelings of dissatisfaction with time's passing with my freshmen peers, but unlike the character Elizabeth Costello, I do not find myself having the power to "think" myself into another person. Therefore, I'm left with a lack of affirmation, and a lot of studying that will most likely make me feel hazy and exhuasted. Looking ahead to break has also been surprisingly disarming. Looking around right now, I don't know how I feel about leaving. This is my home, but don't I already have a home? I'm in limbo, and am hoping to find some much needed clarity during the next month. 

I totally forgot to post my image and caption with my second Memo so here it is now:

I had been thinking a lot about the disconnect between how our incarcerated classmates see themselves as responsible for their positions vs. what we know about the injustices of the Prison Industrial System. In my memo I went back to the Graphic Novel (or whatever you call it), "Prisoners of a Hard Life" and in particular Ramona's story. She feels like she is to blame, like everything is her fault when in reality she is a victim of the system. I want the women we know to understand that, and at the same time I don't want to take away their agency. This is what I was grappling with in my memo.

I keep coming back to Linda Susan Beard’s brief comments on children -- or on being a child and knowing what you want from life. She told us that she felt drawn to Christianity as a child so strongly that her mother thought she was fanatical. Her desire to be alone with Christ as often as possible caused her to want to join a Convent when she was only nine. However, her mother would not allow her to.

Are we better at listening to ourselves as children? Professor Beard attributed the accuracy of her early calling to the order to the contemplative nature of children, and she told us that many of her friends who are now monks, nuns, or priests knew that they wanted to be just that when they were five or six years old.

Hello All,