Larger Scheme of Life

From where do stereotypes originate?  I kept asking myself this question as we watched the movie A Day Without A Mexican.  The movie poked fun at common stereotypes white people tend to have about latino people.  The movie called attention to the value people have in society as well as questioned our thinking about who we are in the larger scheme of life.  How do we begin thinking about who we are?  Apart from relationships, we cannot know who we are.  In the movie, Lila Rodriguez realizes that though she may not be of mexican descent, she is mexican at heart.  The family who raised her impacted her in ways she didn't realize until they were gone - and this event allowed her to contemplate who she really is on a deeper level.

I was first struck by how many different businesses would be affected if all latino people were to disappear and in turn the effect that would have on the daily lives of U.S. citizens.  The truth is that we are all dependent on each other.  What may seem like the smallest, most insignificant of roles may sometimes be the most important.  We are a network.  When links are missing, the whole network feels this loss.

I also considered how much people - particularly the rich - take for granted.  One family in the film took their nanny for granted - both her services and her as a member of their family.  The Abercrombie family simply did not know how to function without their nanny.  The mother was left struggling to do the chores of everyday life and much tension was apparent between husband and wife.  Their small daughter was left with no one to give her special attention - she was obviously bonded to her nanny in a unique way.
The rich, who often want more, take for granted the simplicities of life that form a foundation for a certain  way of living.  Cooking, cleaning, care-giving - these are basic things that the Abercrombie family did not seem to know how to do without their nanny there to fill the role.

As I write I try to remember not to be too critical of "the rich" or "caucasian americans" - I am one of them, too, aren't I?  I think I'd like to think of myself as much different than the Abercrombie family.  It is true that my family doesn't have a nanny that we depend on, but it is also true that I take the life I know and love for granted each and every day.  And I, too, fail to get to know people - especially people from different backgrounds, like the latino community - on a fairly basic level.  Feeling uncomfortable in settings where I am the minority is a fear I need to overcome.  It is a feeling that some people experience as part of their everyday life.

I love to hear people's stories.  I think if I simply took the time to listen, to reach out to people I don't know very well, I could begin to know myself in a new way as well as begin to fight some of the stereotypes that american society assumes about groups of people.

Calling of the Southwest

I really enjoyed reading Bless Me, Ultima.  I appreciated Anaya's skill as a writer.  The book is like one long, beautiful poem.  There were many themes in the book I could discuss, but there was one in particular I found intriguing and strongly related to, and that was the theme of spiritual connection to the land.

Growing up in the desert made me appreciate the magic of rivers.  Rivers are life-giving.  They are wonderful ecosystems that the desert feeds off of, and the river that Antonio gathers herbs by and swims in with his friends is an important landmark in the book.  The river speaks to Antonio.  He feels its presence.  The idea that the land is alive, speaking, moving, giving, in an active and intentional way is apparent throughout the book.  This concept may be a little bit out there for some people, but I love it.

I have experienced land in this way when I lived in the Southwest, and when I visited Yellowstone National Park two years ago, as well as during other travels.
I remember hiking in the desert almost weekly when we lived in Arizona.  Rivers run through Sabino canyon and Saguaros stand tall, arms reaching to the sky.  The sky.  I've never seen it bluer anywhere else than in Tucson.  In the spring the cacti bloom, big beautiful petals, and the prickly pear grow fruit.
There is an incredible breathe in the desert.  You can see it.
When my family visited Yellowstone I experienced a similar spiritual connection to the land.  I absolutely love mountains.  Being able to hike with such beauty surrounding me was an incredible experience.  The Grand Tetons are steadfast and glorious.  We camped on Jenny Lake which was gorgeous.  One evening we went on a short hike and the lake was completely still.  We felt like the only ones in the park.  It was in the stillness I particularly felt the land "speak."

I think Antonio feels and hears the Llano in a unique and specific way because it is his home.  Where do you feel at home?  Is there a piece of land or a place in the world that speaks to you the way the river speaks to Antonio?  Is this your home?

Exclamations; Finding Your Voice

I really enjoyed watching I, The Worst of All for the window it provided into Colonial Mexico and the issues of gender roles in the 17th century.  I came away from the movie in amazement of how far the world has come.

As I thought about the issues within the movie, I thought most about the societal assumptions of gender roles and the hierarchy involved there.  When considering the specific expectations men had about women in the 17th century, I thought about Gloria Anzaldu's words about languages and the assumptions that come with the spoken words.  In this case, the expectation was a lack of language.  Discouraging women from receiving an education, believing women are not capable of knowledge, and expecting that women will not speak unless spoken to all played parts in the abduction of identity.  Anzaldu clearly states that language is who you are.  Men, in forbidding education and knowledge in combination with other social norms, blocked the path to Self for women during Sor Juana's time.  I cannot imagine living in that world.  

The last scene of the movie is what has stuck with me most.  Sor Juana's face is thin, haunting.  If I remember correctly, she was holding her knees, kind of hugging herself for comfort.  What a drastically different Juana from the beginning of the movie!  

In one of the first few opening scenes we see a Juana of exclamation, of joy, of passion.  This Juana made me think of a pondering pool card: http://www.ponderingpool.com/p_pool/newcards/card39.html 

In the beginning and middle of the movie, Sor Juana had found her voice, and she was writing, reading, living, in exclamations.  

The movie's last scene reminded me of this card: http://www.ponderingpool.com/p_pool/newcards/card47.html

I believe that at the end of her life, Sor Juana was torn.  She used to know who she was, she used to have a voice, but in the end she finds that she still doesn't know who she is.  She renewed her vows to live a life of humility, but i think the last scene captures a feeling of hopelessness, of Juana yearning for her books and scrolls, for herself - her essence.  

How do we define ourselves?  I'd like to think it is not with earthly possessions, but we cannot deny the role they play in our everyday lives - in who we are.  If we were to strip away all material things, who would we be, and how would we know?  

Life is so complex that it is hard for me to think about everything that the world encompasses.  When I think about humans in the midst of it all, I think about actions, success, and mistakes.  Here is one last card I think is particularly interesting concerning people and life.  I think it articulates well our desire to wrestle with life, yet our ultimate confusion, when we consider, This Thing Called Life.  

http://www.ponderingpool.com/p_pool/newcards/card1.html

Joyful

My full name is Miranda Joy Schlabach.  My parents named me Miranda with the intention of calling me Mandy.  I often wonder why they didn't just name me Mandy in the first place since it has become my real name, the one people know me by and the name by which I introduce myself.  Miranda has become a nickname.  A few of my closest friends call me Miranda, as well as my Dad and my Grandpa.

Miranda means "worthy of admiration" and Mandy means "worthy of love."  I'd like to think my name doesn't mean just worthy of receiving love, but rather worthy of Love, and all that word entails.  Giving love,  receiving it, sharing, hoping, working, living, breathing love.  A phrase that has always carried meaning for me is:  Love is the Kingdom of God.  My name is a good reminder for me of what path I want to travel, and what my goals and priorities are.

My Mom is the one who wanted to call me Mandy, but but she also chose my middle name, Joy.  She once told me she chose it as a blessing, that my life may be filled with joy and that I may give great joy to others.  She calls me Mandy Joyful.  She's an avid nicknamer, lovingly giving her children all sorts of ridiculous nicknames.  Some of mine are, Manda, Mandalin, Mandarin, Mandalinni Lou, Mando, Miranda Joyful, and Little Brown Berry.  She began calling me her "little brown berry" ever since I was a small child when my family lived in Tucson, Arizona.  I spent nearly all my time outdoors and would get very brown from the sun.

Names are filled with such tenderness and love.  It seems to me that when you name someone (or something), you begin the process of holding them in your heart, of Knowing them.

Discussions are often the best way to learn about the world.  Conversations with each other about texts we read and how we experience them helps us gain better insight.  I know I'll learn a lot from you all as you share your thoughts.