To the trees, citizens!

I have not been able to post my writing lately, as I have not had a computer for the past two months. Alas, I will soon be reunited with my handy Macbook and will be back to contemplating nature.

While visiting a friend's family this weekend in Frontenay Rohan Rohan, I saw a six year old girl type a song name into Youtube and load a video. This is indeed the computer generation.

While I was shocked at her computer comprehension, I was more shocked by the song that came onto the screen. You can watch the music video below, and I strongly suggest that you do.
"Aux Arbes Citoyens"

Even if you don't know a word of French, it's easy to discern the message of the song by watching the music video. Yannick Noah is a retired French tennis player who has started his own charity for underprivileged children and has now become a popular musician. This song is played on radio stations throughout France, even if it has a strong emphasis on sustainability and environmental consciousness. How often are songs like this popular for mainstream audiences in the United States?

Just by watching the video, we understand that there is some sort of nuclear, or at least destructive, energy being planned for the entire planet. A bunch of guys in suits are plotting where to put the power plants, but the men are completely unaware of what is happening to four children across the globe: a boy in Africa watches a goat collapse from thirst--water shortage, a girl in Greenland literally has the ice melt from beneath her while she is fishing--global warming, a girl in a South American rain forest is bombarded by machines tearing down the forest-deforestation, and a boy in India is sitting on the harbor when a boat comes in with radioactive, toxic waste--pollution. These kids are pretty fed up with their homes being destroyed, so they march over to the world's leaders and take over the meeting. After explaining how to derive energy from natural means, the men in suits applaud the children.

The video alone is quite provocative. Yet the six year old who showed me the song in the first place was singing along with the video. She knew the words just as well as she knew the words to Inspecteur Gadget (en francais). Take the title of the song: "Aux Arbres Citoyens." Aux is the plural equivalent to at, arbres means trees and citoyens means citizens. Thus, the title basically translates to "To the trees, citizens" Yet the French say "Aux armes, citoyens" meaning "take/to arms, citizens" in referencing the French Revolution--when the starving peasants rose up against the French government and took complete control in a particularly violent manner. Furthermore, "Aux armes, citoyens" is in the French national anthem commemorating when the people of France stood up for justice. Another level to the meaning of the title is that "Aux Arbres" and "Aux Armes" sound particularly similar in French and is a play on words.

Commanding citizens to go to the trees sounds a little bizarre, so let me discuss the song a little more. The first few verses are about the condition of the world: poison in the water, cement in the fields and mountains. The earth is hurting, and we are losing our culture and history because of it.

Then, the chorus states "Puisqu'il faut changer les choses, aux arbres citoyens ! Il est grand temps qu'on propose un monde pour demain!" Since we must (it is necessary) for us to change things, to the trees, citizens! It is time for us to propose a world for tomorrow!

The next set of verses say that we should spread the word, form an army of reeds (imagery, of the earth, that calls to a plant that is so strong it does not even break in strong wind). "C'est vrai la terre est ronde, mais qui viendra nous dire qu'elle l'est pour tout le monde...Et les autres à venir... " It's true that the earth is round, but who will say to us that she (the earth) is for everyone and the others to come. Thus, we must share the earth with everyone on it (unlike now when we have obesity problems in America and not enough clean water in Africa) and with those to come--the future.

"Plus le temps de savoir à qui la faute de compter la chance ou les autres. Maintenant on se bat avec toi moi j'y crois." No more time left to know who is to blame, to count our chances or the others. Now we must fight, with you (your help) I do believe. Hence, we should stop pointing fingers at one another and unite together in order to face our ecological problems.

I cannot say for sure whether or not the United States has radio hits that seek to encourage the public to be more sustainable and environmentally conscious. I hope that you will consider what American music is about and compare it to this song by Yannick Noah--a man who is continually voted most popular singer in France. Even a pop song can make a different in a country's lifestyle, as many other people like the six year old I witnessed are singing along to this song. Perhaps if America could produce more music, more art, more films and more literature--even fashion--that seek to capture just how important it is to be environmentally sustainable, maybe the youth of America could take control of our unsustainable, unjust practices and make the world a better place for everyone.

Overcoming a Fear, Relearning Greek Mythology, and Counting the Ways in Which Spiders Are Actually Pretty Amazing

Upon traveling alone to Bordeaux, I found myself wandering around a city with churches older than United States of America. During one of my walks, I arrived at CAP Science, a museum designed for children to help them better understand and appreciate science. Though I seemed to be the only person unescorted by a child, I brought my English-French dictionary and walked inside an exhibit dedicated to spiders.

I am no different from just about everyone else when it comes to squeamishness around spiders. I think they're beautiful--and I will stare at them as long as they remain still and at a safe distance from my skin. This unfortunately does not always go as planned, and I too weep at their sudden movements in my direction.

Spiders, as I learned, are actually pretty incredible beyond their fright factor. For one--they are one of the oldest organisms to date on our planet. There are many records of spiders in amber--be it their bodies or their webs. Last Halloween, palaeobiologist Professor Braiser at the University of Oxford examined amber found by hunters in East Sussex. This one piece of amber contained a spider web dating back to the Cretaceous period--140 million years ago (BBC article). Spiders are not only older than the human race, but they date back to the age of the dinosaurs and thereby survived what the dinosaurs didn't.

In addition to being our elders, spiders have "one up" on humans. Spider webs can lift five times more weight than steel. Scientists have been trying to determine how it is spider silk is so strong and how to replicate it in technology. With this innovation, scientists could even create bullet proof vests capable of stopping a bomb (ABC News). Try to reflect on that for a moment: tiny little critters that we give a bad name are capable of creating technology beyond human capability.

There's a greek myth about a woman from Lydia named Arachne who was talented in the art of weaving--so much that she claimed to be better than Athena--a goddess. As in any myth, gods do not particularly enjoy when mortals think they are better than the gods, so Athena descended from her mountain dressed as an old woman and warned Arachne to not offend the gods. But, Arachne was quite confident and told the stranger just how confident she was. Of course, the old lady challenges Arachne to a weaving contest, and only after Arachne accepts does she reveal her true form as none other than the goddess Athena. So, Athena weaves an intricate scene of Poseidon and herself giving gifts to the people who named their city after her. Arachne weaves not only a tapestry of Zeus' mistresses (how rude--he's Athena's father), but makes it so life-like, intricate and beautiful that even thick headed Athena admits that Arcachne's is better. But, Athena is enraged that Arachne would call such a challenge, think so highly of herself and weave something insulting, she curses Arachne and tears up her tapestry. Humiliated, Arachne hangs herself. Athena then takes pity on Arachne and brings her back to life with the juice of aconite, but brings her back as a "spider." Thus, Arachne and all of her descendants will forever hang and be masterful weavers.

Why would I bother retelling a long story about spiders? Well, it's important to see how a society before us had respect for spiders. All these myths about Black Widows biting off the heads of their lovers or films like Arachnophobia are just as inaccurate as Jaws. Spiders may be creepy because they have eight eyes, eight legs, and tend to make their way into your house, but they're actually worth admiration. There's an ancient proverb, " If you wish to live and thrive, let the spider stay alive," and many people in Ireland and England don't kill spiders because it is a sign of a "happy home." Even more, when Jesus is born under King Herod's fear of the Messiah and order to kill all newborns, it was a baby spider who hid Jesus from the soldiers in the cave. It's said that Joseph prayed to God to protect Mary and their baby, and the spider heard the prayer and weaved a massive web that impressed the soldiers so much in its complexity, that they assumed it had taken days to make, and they didn't want to enter the cave and destroy it.

So, you might not be cured of your fear of spiders. I certainly am not about to feel comforted by their presence in my bedroom, but I do hope you will reflect on their capabilities, and the way they are portrayed by other societies. If we reevaluate the way we see nature--and all of its inhabitants--we can better appreciate just how incredible the world really is.

A Lesson in Sustainability: France

It's been a good while since I've written in this, but I do have a good excuse; I have moved to France!

France is different in many more ways than the language, the age of the villages, the holidays, the way people greet each other, the dishes, the weather, etc. Though I have discussed France's lack of political activism in conservation and ecological awareness with passionate French men, France is miles ahead of the United States in sustainability.

For one: At the grocery store, there are no bags. You have to bring your own, buy your own at the store, or simply go without a bag. (The U.S. is making an effort towards this, but paper and plastic bags are still conveniently available)

Secondly, most people buy what they can at the farmer's markets: produce, poultry, beef, sea food, cheese, milk, beans, clothes, bread--everything. Farmer's market products are not only cheaper than a supermarket, they are locally grown or produced and are thereby more sustainable than the imported Spanish tomatoes that are sold at the supermarket. (And much more sustainable than the South American imported produce I mentioned in a previous entry). Plus, you get to support a farmer rather than a farming industry.

I do not have a car. Yet, I can walk to the farmer's market and two super markets. I can walk to the pharmacy, clothing stores, the train station, the pub, and several different churches. When I do take transportation, it's the SNCF train or I ride in a car with someone else--and it's usually more than two people in the car. The cars, at that, are all manual transmission, are usually small passenger cars, and do not waste energy on air conditioning. I ride my bike, as do many others, and cyclists are respected on the road.

There are no clothes dryers. This may sound absurd, but it's actually pretty great. I spent about 3 hours sitting in a garden (see above) waiting for my clothes to wash, then hung them to dry. All while sipping tea and reading Dostoevsky. I actually enjoyed doing laundry. My clothes smelled better, I felt better, and it cost less both financially and ecologically.

There is no air conditioning, and heating is only used certain months of the year. All houses and buildings have these magic things called windows--with curtains and shutters that can go from covering the entire window, to having holes for light, and can even be rolled up to any stopping point until they no longer touch the window pane. The windows can open from the top and let in a little air, or they can open completely. The curtains and the shutters can block out sunlight when it's hot, and block out the cold when it's cold. In between, you can let in cool breezes--especially during the day.

Most of the houses and buildings are built into older structures: most of the houses I've been in were built inside of 400 year old farms, 500 year old stables, the working quarters of a castle or an old village. The architecture seeks to work with its environment and even that is more sustainable than America's well known suburban landscapes.

Everything is in smaller portions. And I'm not starving. But, I don't feel obligated to eat as much, and I feel better after I eat. Even coffee--it's served in a small cup, but the ingredients are so rich that a little cup does the job better than a larger cup in America--and it's actually a little cheaper (unless you're in Paris, of course). There is less waste, less consumption, and less energy to transport said waste and consumer products.

I can't begin to tell you how amazing the food is. I never knew a tomato could taste like something! And they're red, are often grown without harmful pesticides or unsustainable farming techniques. (Though, the French call "organic" food "Agriculture Biologique", and there is a difference) The industrialization of agriculture is not as strong in France as it is in the United States, and most of what you eat is actually from a real, pastoral image farm. There are, however, plenty of American industry products to buy for a much higher price in most supermarkets.

While I was at the farmer's market with my friend Claude, we were invited to lunch by a painter. The French are very welcoming, and we ended up staying at Raymond's house for a few hours eating a several course lunch, getting a tour of his garden, learning about his paintings, work within his house and the history of where he lives. The vegetarian fad has not quite hit France, and people are often interested to talk to me about why I chose to not eat meat.

When we got to his house, I couldn't believe how beautiful it was. Eating in France is thought of as nourishing the body, of spending time with those you love, and of taking the time to slow down. All too often, eating in America is fast, squeezed into a thirty minute break (in a French high school, the lunch break is at least an hour), and is made from boxes, jars, and bags.

Like I said, it's amazing how much more flavor a silly tomato has when you grow it locally and naturally. Raymond lives off the vegetables, herbs and fruit in his garden, eats eggs from his chickens, and only goes to the market for meat. And I can honestly say that the quality of taste and nutrition is worth the effort to keep up a garden.

So, I leave you with this: America has no excuse. Sure, it will take time for America to adjust its infrastructure--we can't simply start walking across the suburbs of Houston and forget our cars. We can, however, stop offering free, unsustainable bags in grocery stores. We can add bike lanes to more cities, promote and support farmer's markets in our towns (there's even one where I went to high school, and I never even knew!), start our own garden--and even start small, and try not using a dryer. Lastly, we should all make an effort to learn about other cultures' sustainable practices and apply them to our own lives, thereby influencing others and promoting change.

(Raymond,the farmer and Painter, and Claude, a fellow teacher and avid reader, in the garden)

France still has a long way to go, but simple habits that they practice make a difference in sustainability.

Sea World As an Exercise in Mindfulness

Kennin and I petting a dolphin at Sea World.

Sea World was by far my favorite place in the world when I was young. A place where you can watch these beautiful whales leap out of the water and interact with humans as if they were as friendly as my dog was unfathomable. I loved all the shows in which human situations are acted out through sea animals, such as the mystery show starring a walrus.

As a teenager and college student, I went back to Sea World to ride the roller coasters, sit in the shark exhibit for an hour, and feel like a kid again. Over the Labor Day weekend, however, I revisited Sea World as a mentor for a five year old and two year old child. This entire summer has heavily consisted of me getting over my fear of children by interacting with my brother's girlfriend's children, and I've been amazed at just how curious and interested they are in the wonders of the world.

Kennin, the aforementioned five year old who watched Shark Week with me, loves sharks. She asked me to teach her about all the fish around us, so I took her hand and started pointing out sharks, talking about their behavior and having her identify them when they swam by. Sure enough, she started to remember them by their features and even responded to another visitor's spoken out loud thought as to what kind of shark had the giant teeth. We walked around the aquarium and looked at different fish, and she was constantly listening to everything I said, watching the fish, and asking things like, "Are they friends?" or "Where does he live?" Her being engaged in stopping and watching the fish instead of passing by inspired other kids and their parents to do the same; at some points, I was nearly lecturing a group of visitors about what they were really looking at in the tanks.

I don't think a lot of people really contemplate what it is they are experiencing when they look at a fish tank in an aquarium, feed a dolphin at Sea World or watch a Shamu show. This mindfulness makes trips to Sea World not only fun, but it helps to better grasp just how beautiful the world really is and how great it is that companies like Sea World use their resources to save wild animals and show the public what they share the planet with. Perhaps it is mindfulness that allows us to have that curiosity we value in children. If we can constantly remind our selves to really think about where we are, who we are, what we are doing and what we are looking at, we can see the world as brightly as we used to when we were kids.

Jellyfish--Vixens of the Sea

Jellyfish are probably some of the most bizarre, beautiful, and often annoying creatures of the ocean. My good friend and former roommate Courtney could sit, stare and sketch jellyfish while at the Aquarium for hours, and even has jellyfish tattoos on the side of her stomach. Because of her appreciation for these pretty critters, I dedicate this post to her.

Why are jellyfish so alluring despite their tendency to have painful greetings? Well, look at them. How many creatures do you know that are translucent and near transparent? Different jellyfish species are between 95 and 98% water, whereas us humans are a little over 60%. Another reason jellyfish are so pretty is probably because they are radically symmetrical, meaning both halves from the central axis mirror each other. Jellyfish do not have a brain, a respiratory system (breathing), a circulatory system (cycling materials, especially blood, around our body), or even an excretory system (filtering nutrients and getting rid of waste). Because of this, jellyfish actually go to the bathroom out of the same "hole" they take in food from.

Jellyfish don't even look like they should be alive with all their simplicities. Yet jellyfish, as a species, are older than the dinosaurs, and there's even thought to be an immortal jellyfish found (Thank you Christopher for showing me the article!). With so little inside their bodies, jellyfish must be pretty amazing at what they do in order to stay alive so long. Their "senses" consist of a neural net, "eyespots" detecting light from dark, and chemo-sensory pits that help detect prey. Jellyfish never stop growing, unlike us who typically tend to stop growing in high school after we've gone through sexual maturity. Without a respiratory system, jellyfish simply "breathe" in oxygen through their membrane-like skin. In order to swim, they use "jet propulsion" by taking in water through a muscular bell and shooting it out behind them. They aren't even fish, technically, because they don't have gills. Many scientists prefer to call them "sea jellies."

With no real internal organs or complex systems, you may wonder how jellyfish even reproduce. Well, jellyfish can reproduce sexually and asexually. Jellyfish are either born male or female, and each sex develops its eggs or sperm inside a pouch on their body. One fine day, the jellyfish will "throw up" their goods, and the goods pass from the stomach through the mouth. The eggs that stick to the lady jelly's mouth will be fertilized. The fertilized eggs become a planula, which is carried around ocean currents for quite some time until it is able to attach onto a surface and develop into a polyp. The polyp undergoes budding, which is like an asexual development of another polyp, and these polyps lead to the medusa stage. Some polyps actually split open through fission in order to become a medusa. Pretty weird, huh?

One jellyfish in particular, the box jellyfish, is known as the sea wasp. This little baby has 64 anuses (I'm serious) and 24 eyes, though they still can't really see. The box jellyfish is by far the most poisonous jellyfish, and it's sting can kill in 3 minutes. The amount of venom in one box jellyfish can kill up to 60 people. What's even more scary is that it can move at 2 meters.... per second. That means it would be pretty difficult to be stung and get back to shore. Thus, more people die from jellyfish attacks than sharks. Australians are well aware of this jellyfish, and they actually go swimming in regions where the jellyfish are located with women's pantyhose covering their arms and legs because the tentacles' little poison dart like nematocysts won't penetrate it. Additionally, their tentacles are near invisible and are pretty easy to get tangled up inside, which is why jellyfish are so good at finding prey despite the fact that most of them use ocean currents to get around. Think about how incredible it is that something so simple in form is not only alive, but has so much power and potential. Here we are, humans fully capable of adapting for life on every continent and have all kinds of fancy organs and systems, but some little thing that poops out of its mouth can cause us to stop breathing. It's pretty humbling to say the least.

Now that I've terrified you, know that most jellyfish species are not capable of killing you. A lot of jellyfish don't actually cause pain to humans because their stings are so subtle. Most of the ones who can noticeably sting you will not actually kill you, though they might make you whiney, and jellyfish are never aggressive. Jellyfish are just another one of the creatures on this planet that are beyond anything we could dream up, and reminds us that fact can indeed be strange than fiction.

Reflections on "Martian Child"

As I mentioned before with Avatar, my step dad and I love watching science fiction films together. My mom, however, is particularly restless and cannot sit through a movie. This trait made our only family trip to the theatre, that I can remember, to see Lord of the Rings particularly painful for her.

There's a film "Martian Child" that employs themes of science fiction, comedy and drama. The premise is that John Cusack's application for adoption finally comes through after his wife has passed, and he's not sure he has it in him to be a good parent. The child chosen for him by the adoption agent is a ten year-old boy who is convinced he's an alien from Mars and is thus why he stays under a box (as the sun is too bright) and wears a weight belt tying him to the ground made out of batteries. As John Cusack plays a famous science fiction writer, the pairing of these two is particularly amusing.

The three of us sat down to watch the film, and I'm glad we did. (My mom didn't get up once) There's a scene in particular when John Cusack is trying to talk to his new son. The kid's Andy Warhol social skills are making Cusack look like an inadequate parent to the adoption agency, especially when the kid steals from others in order to conduct his "mission" of documenting human life.

Here's what Cusack says: Dennis, can I just say one last thing about Mars? - which may be strange coming from a Science-Fiction writer - But right now, you and me here, put together entirely of atoms, sitting on this round rock with a core of liquid iron, held down by this force that seems to trouble you, called gravity, all the while spinning around the sun at 67,000 miles an hour and whizzing through the Milky Way at 600,000 miles an hour in a universe that very well may be chasing its own tail at the speed of light; And amidst all this frantic activity, fully cognisant of our own eminent demise - which is our own pretty way of saying we all know we're gonna die - We reach out to one another. Sometimes for the sake of entity, sometimes for reasons you're not old enough to understand yet, but a lot of the time we just reach out and expect nothing in return. Isn't that strange? Isn't that weird? Isn't that weird enough? The heck do ya need to be from Mars for?

It's surprising when John Cusack can express just how beautiful it is that we are pretty much parasites tearing up our very small corner of the universe, and our lives are pretty meaningless when you compare it to the rest of existence. For us to be alive amid all of this order and chaos is extraordinary enough. I guess when I become upset, lacking in confidence or defeated, I could think about how lucky I am to be a part of all of this--especially since I have no idea how to define "this" with so much out there I will never learn about. Our planet is a very small part of galaxy, and our galaxy is a part of an unknown array of other galaxies in some universe that is apparently constantly expanding. Even on our own planet, we have a lot to learn. There are species we haven't given names to, life in the ocean we are incapable of seeing because of our bodies' inability to withstand the ocean's pressure, ecological phenomenons and animal behavior we can't quite explain. Think about how much you know about the very place you life: how many plants can you name? what do you know about your own body? how does a computer work--really? It's overwhelming how limited we are despite our vast capabilities.

Revisiting Proust on a Night Bike Ride

Photo taken at the Arenal Volcano in Costa Rica.

I haven't been myself lately. For one, I've had the whole water submerged, The Graduate listlessness of coming home from one life and not knowing how to find the next. Secondly, I'm preparing to move to a foreign country where I'll be completely on my own and speaking a language I can't quite grasp. And in all of these attempts to make plans and steps, I'm worried about a family illness that will be much more difficult to help out with when I'm across the ocean. Needless to say, I've been a bit off.

And in the football crazed, concrete, Baptist haven of Tomball, Texas, I haven't found much to confide these discomforts in. Thus, I decide to take a night bike ride. It's colder out now--the sticky heat of a Texan summer is beginning to pass, and I actually felt chills on my skin. Rather than the makeshift headlight I've created out of a headlamp on my bicycle, I rode in darkness. In the beginning of the ride, the stars were barely visible in the clouds.

I started thinking about living in France. And of all the things to think about, I started imagining all the good places I'd find for reading classic literature since I'll actually have free time. I thought about how I'll experience a different climate--how I'll see the trees change color and learn new names for the life around me.

I stopped after about 20 minutes to drink water, and I noticed the clouds were beginning to fade. And I realized I was cold--which was a relief; the heat seems to drive everyone mad. Then I noticed just how dark everything was. I had almost forgotten what darkness was--where everything bleeds together into one shadow and is somehow unrecognizable.

I guess we forget the brilliance of light or recognize the madness of heat until we are overwhelmed in darkness and or reminded of the cold. And in my anxieties of this summer, I started to learn more about the meaning of one of my favorite quotes from literature: Le bonheur est salutaire pour le corps, mais c'est le chagrin qui développe les forces de l'esprit. Happiness is beneficial for the body, but it is grief that develops the powers of the mind (Marcel Proust, Le Tempts Retrouvé, The Past Recaptured). All of this anxiety I feel is completely human, and my ability to confront, face and live with it will only allow me to see more of the beauty in my life.

If you're reading this and have something on your mind, I hope you'll find yourself on a night bike ride. Maybe a walk. A swim in a creek or river. Something that forces you to be alone outside in light or darkness, silence or sound.