Reflecting on Reflections

In my blog posts thus far, I notice that I have spent a considerable amount of time evaluating the significance of places and creatures that I may not have ordinarily commented upon. I would not venture to say that an attention to the previously overlooked is new to me, but I do find it interesting that so many of my posts attempt to shed light on the neglected. Perhaps my excitement about undervalued spaces, such as the Gambles Mill Trail, are direct results of taking a geography class, or maybe I just find it more interesting to examine the unexamined. Regardless, I always enjoy the opportunity to verbalize my thoughts about things, as I feel that the process helps me to understand my true feelings. Because of this, reflecting about my blog posts has allowed me to understand the ways in which I have developed and attempted to define my own posting style.

From reading posts like Shannon’s “Falling in Love After the Rain” and Kelly’s “Three Trees,” I have been more attentive to the beauty around me. They both have found a way to channel their natural awareness to the beauty of the world into their weekly posts, which I admire and hope to develop. From reading posts like Mark’s, I’ve become aware of how much more thorough I could be in my background research, or at least the ways in which I present my information. His post “An Urban River Revival?: A Response Letter to the New York Times” reminded me of how much more specific and in depth I could make my posts.

Something that I have not brought up but that I have often considered when writing my blog posts is the way that we have learned to control our surroundings, and what effect this has on the way that we speak about our surroundings. Looking back on my blog posts, I wish that this thought had come up more, as I think about it so often and as other lodgers’ posts have often triggered this thought. The contrast between the language used by other lodgers writing about the Gambles Mill Trail demonstrates that even when writing about the same space, we can have different perceptions of our impact. Mike and Kelin both mentioned the beauty of the highly manicured golf course to the left of the trail, which, in contrast to the overgrown brush on the right, appears far more orderly and picturesque to our eyes. I understand their viewpoints, especially as the right side of the trail is fraught with invasive species, but I still find it notable that we assign worth to the meticulous and trim—marks of human involvement—and disregard the “unkempt” and “mangled. In the comment that I made on my post “Gambles Mill Musings,” I wrote about the concrete confines of the creek behind the commons, which is another area that is easy to overlook, but which speaks volumes about the way we treat natural systems in our environment. Literally stream-lining will not achieve the same effect that a natural stream would have, even if the water continues to flow. The comment I made on my blog about this small, mistreated part of campus could have been developed into a much more substantial study of the ways in which we handle the water around us. I feel that this is a subject about which I should have considered writing already, as I would be able to apply what I’ve learned in class to explore the topic.             Reflecting on our insistent, and often unnecessary, control of nature, and of water in particular, I am reminded of a quote from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, in which Dillard parallels the freedom of spiritual leaders’ minds and the ways in which we control our environment.

“The world’s spiritual geniuses seem to discover universally that the mind’s muddy river, this ceaseless flow of trivia and trash, cannot be dammed, and that trying to dam it is a waste of effort that might lead to madness. Instead you must allow the muddy river to flow unheeded in the dim channels of consciousness.” (Dillard 32)

This quote suggests that there is a parallel between allowing a thought process to take shape and allowing a river to direct its own natural and formidable path. I think that the post in which I succeeded to the greatest degree in allowing my thoughts to flow naturally was the post I did about my sit-spot as I was able to think concretely about the effect that that specific place has on me.

Posting on the Earth Lodge blog has provided me with the opportunity to explore a number of different topics, all relating to some element of our Earth Lodge experience. Because of this, looking back on my own posts and those of others, I have been able to consider the different areas of exploration and growth that we have touched on as a group. As we have such a wide scope of interests—a fact that we acknowledge and embrace—even our posts about the same topic vary greatly. From reading other lodgers’ posts as the semester has progressed, I’ve already picked up on ways to improve my own, which is one valuable element of blogging as opposed to turning in papers directly to a teacher. Especially as we are a living and learning community, I have been finding that such an open forum as a blog provides us with a way to share our perspectives in a thoughtful way outside the classroom.