21 April 2010
03 April 2010
Short Story: Winter Walking
By: Mike Napolitano
“Can you imagine what it’s like under the ice right now?” I asked Anthony.
“It must be an entirely different world...suspended like that under ice.” Anthony seemed too lost in his own thoughts to continue his discourse on the pond. Although it wasn’t entirely frozen over, the pond had a thick layer of ice over the most of it. Anthony was kneeling at the edge of the pond and continued to stare directly into the center of it. He has a capability of appreciating nature that I could never match, and for that, I admire him. I could only imagine what he was thinking of. “You ready man?”
We turned and continued to move through the forest. I glanced over at the Hudson. All the trees were bare, allowing for a clear view of the river. I suppose the beauty of winter is that everything is in suspense and seems to move slowly. As we walked on, I continued to glance at the river watching the ice drift along with the current. The snow in front of us was completely untouched. With every step we took, we were creating a new mark upon the earth. I was so tranquil; it was almost as if every step I took away from Marist was a step away from all the homework, problems, and drama of student life.
I always looked forward to the next opportunity I had to walk through the woods with Anthony as my guide. He was the one who first showed me the splendor of a simple hike, to be able to walk through the plants until you felt a relaxing solidarity with nature. Anthony always told me about his idea of ‘oneness,’ which he said to be the feeling of being part of the whole, to feel compassion for everything around you. To me, it seemed like Anthony drew his entire spiritual being from his experiences in nature and I wanted to understand that.
As we meandered through the woods, we approached a ridge that I thought was going to lead to a severe drop but when we reached the edge of the hill, I realized that it wasn’t at all steep. Amazingly enough, the hill led down to a gully where a small creek appeared to have formed. I had never seen anything like it. The water was flowing between trees, through roots, around trunks, past piles of sticks, mounds of dirt. It was as if nature intended to connect all the water together by using the landscape as a path; the bare, vertical trees provided a labyrinth-like grid for the water to flow through.
Anthony and I approached the creek. It must have stretched about a quarter mile. The creek was odd, though, as it was only a few feet wide in spots while in others, it opened up to around ten feet. Naturally, Anthony and I went straight for the edge of the creek at the most narrow section as our acute sense of curiosity subliminally told us to. Approaching the creek, I glanced at Anthony and noticed a whimsical expression of glee on his face; he was evidently overjoyed at our discovery.
We walked between the trees, climbed over the roots, and hopped between the banks. After a few minutes, we both had our share of exploring the new terrain. I looked at Anthony and met his eyes behind his thick, unkempt beard. I could tell he knew what he wanted to do because, after all, nature is his forte. He smiled at me and sat, knees at the chest, on a downed branch. Following his lead, I kneeled next to a tree and used it as a back. Anthony had told me about his experiences meditating in the woods and I could tell that was what was on his mind.
Following his lead, I just sat. I closed my eyes and listened to the water capriciously flow through the roots of the trees. I was rapidly releasing all the stress that I had built up from earlier in the week. A part of me felt the flow of the water moving through my body, almost as if it was purifying me. I was meditating. I felt my mind becoming lighter than my body as if my troubled thoughts were escaping the confines of my skull. A surge of my spirit rushed through me, I felt revitalized.
I opened my eyes. The world was so very vibrant. Sounds were clearer, the water looked crisper, and the cool breeze felt so embracing around my bare cheeks. I reached down to touch the water. Letting it flow through my fingers, it felt as though the water was at its most basic form. Just touching the water was so incredibly refreshing. I took a deep breath allowing for the cold winter air to fill up my lungs. Never before had I felt so energized by a lungful of air. Through my sunglasses the snow was lustrous, the water was glistening. The world seemed to gleam before my eyes.
As I rose up from my crouching position, I noticed Anthony was also rousing from his rumination. There seemed to be an unsaid mutual agreement between us and we simultaneously turned back. It was the return trip back to the ‘real world.’ It was a very odd experience walking back. It seemed to take four times the amount of time to get to the creek as it took us to walk back. Uncharacteristic for Anthony and me, we didn’t talk much as we walked.
Much to our style we took a different route back. As we were crossing through a small field, we suddenly noticed something interesting above us. On the first branch of a nearby tree, we spotted a hawk. We found ourselves taken back by the new scenario that nature had given us. “What should we do?” I asked Anthony.
“I don’t know man…I’ve never been this close to a hawk. Let’s just wait for a few minutes.” So we stood in the field and watched this hawk watch us. The hawk was like no other creature I had ever seen in person. It had a large roundish torso that was mostly decorated with opal white feathers and a few other grey feathers mixed around the sides. Its eyes were particularly striking. They were brilliantly astute and it was evident that it could scan every inch of the ground even when flying above the trees.
It turned and spotted us. Anthony and I stared at this hawk staring back at us. The bird did not seem threatened by its human intruders; it was as if it was studying us as we were studying it. It seemed, in that one instance, a bird and two mammals shared a field, and nothing more happened. After the hawk was content, it turned and flew off in another direction. Watching the hawk fly away was a sight to behold. It happened so quickly but I won’t soon forget the astounding wing span it had. I couldn’t get past the fact that I was within twenty feet of a hawk.
Without a hawk to maintain our attention, we moved on towards Marist. Once we came within a few hundred feet of the end of the arboretum, we were greeted by a paved drive meant to allow access to St. Ann’s Hermitage. As the warm scent of brush left me, I was greeted by the dry, pungent scent of wet asphalt. We were still in the cover of the trees, but we were now on pavement. A minute later, the cover of the trees left us and I stared southward upon Fontaine, Dyson, Gartland, and the rest of the Marist campus.
The sight of the black pavement and its abrasive road paint assaulted my eyes almost as if it was a foreign design I had never seen before. The lack of tree cover forced all the unnatural colors of the campus back into my retinas. The noise of people and cars met my ears once again and the hustle and bustle of daily life was back to command my attention. My eyes begrudgingly adjusted, I returned home and started my homework.
“Can you imagine what it’s like under the ice right now?” I asked Anthony.
“It must be an entirely different world...suspended like that under ice.” Anthony seemed too lost in his own thoughts to continue his discourse on the pond. Although it wasn’t entirely frozen over, the pond had a thick layer of ice over the most of it. Anthony was kneeling at the edge of the pond and continued to stare directly into the center of it. He has a capability of appreciating nature that I could never match, and for that, I admire him. I could only imagine what he was thinking of. “You ready man?”
We turned and continued to move through the forest. I glanced over at the Hudson. All the trees were bare, allowing for a clear view of the river. I suppose the beauty of winter is that everything is in suspense and seems to move slowly. As we walked on, I continued to glance at the river watching the ice drift along with the current. The snow in front of us was completely untouched. With every step we took, we were creating a new mark upon the earth. I was so tranquil; it was almost as if every step I took away from Marist was a step away from all the homework, problems, and drama of student life.
I always looked forward to the next opportunity I had to walk through the woods with Anthony as my guide. He was the one who first showed me the splendor of a simple hike, to be able to walk through the plants until you felt a relaxing solidarity with nature. Anthony always told me about his idea of ‘oneness,’ which he said to be the feeling of being part of the whole, to feel compassion for everything around you. To me, it seemed like Anthony drew his entire spiritual being from his experiences in nature and I wanted to understand that.
As we meandered through the woods, we approached a ridge that I thought was going to lead to a severe drop but when we reached the edge of the hill, I realized that it wasn’t at all steep. Amazingly enough, the hill led down to a gully where a small creek appeared to have formed. I had never seen anything like it. The water was flowing between trees, through roots, around trunks, past piles of sticks, mounds of dirt. It was as if nature intended to connect all the water together by using the landscape as a path; the bare, vertical trees provided a labyrinth-like grid for the water to flow through.
Anthony and I approached the creek. It must have stretched about a quarter mile. The creek was odd, though, as it was only a few feet wide in spots while in others, it opened up to around ten feet. Naturally, Anthony and I went straight for the edge of the creek at the most narrow section as our acute sense of curiosity subliminally told us to. Approaching the creek, I glanced at Anthony and noticed a whimsical expression of glee on his face; he was evidently overjoyed at our discovery.
We walked between the trees, climbed over the roots, and hopped between the banks. After a few minutes, we both had our share of exploring the new terrain. I looked at Anthony and met his eyes behind his thick, unkempt beard. I could tell he knew what he wanted to do because, after all, nature is his forte. He smiled at me and sat, knees at the chest, on a downed branch. Following his lead, I kneeled next to a tree and used it as a back. Anthony had told me about his experiences meditating in the woods and I could tell that was what was on his mind.
Following his lead, I just sat. I closed my eyes and listened to the water capriciously flow through the roots of the trees. I was rapidly releasing all the stress that I had built up from earlier in the week. A part of me felt the flow of the water moving through my body, almost as if it was purifying me. I was meditating. I felt my mind becoming lighter than my body as if my troubled thoughts were escaping the confines of my skull. A surge of my spirit rushed through me, I felt revitalized.
I opened my eyes. The world was so very vibrant. Sounds were clearer, the water looked crisper, and the cool breeze felt so embracing around my bare cheeks. I reached down to touch the water. Letting it flow through my fingers, it felt as though the water was at its most basic form. Just touching the water was so incredibly refreshing. I took a deep breath allowing for the cold winter air to fill up my lungs. Never before had I felt so energized by a lungful of air. Through my sunglasses the snow was lustrous, the water was glistening. The world seemed to gleam before my eyes.
As I rose up from my crouching position, I noticed Anthony was also rousing from his rumination. There seemed to be an unsaid mutual agreement between us and we simultaneously turned back. It was the return trip back to the ‘real world.’ It was a very odd experience walking back. It seemed to take four times the amount of time to get to the creek as it took us to walk back. Uncharacteristic for Anthony and me, we didn’t talk much as we walked.
Much to our style we took a different route back. As we were crossing through a small field, we suddenly noticed something interesting above us. On the first branch of a nearby tree, we spotted a hawk. We found ourselves taken back by the new scenario that nature had given us. “What should we do?” I asked Anthony.
“I don’t know man…I’ve never been this close to a hawk. Let’s just wait for a few minutes.” So we stood in the field and watched this hawk watch us. The hawk was like no other creature I had ever seen in person. It had a large roundish torso that was mostly decorated with opal white feathers and a few other grey feathers mixed around the sides. Its eyes were particularly striking. They were brilliantly astute and it was evident that it could scan every inch of the ground even when flying above the trees.
It turned and spotted us. Anthony and I stared at this hawk staring back at us. The bird did not seem threatened by its human intruders; it was as if it was studying us as we were studying it. It seemed, in that one instance, a bird and two mammals shared a field, and nothing more happened. After the hawk was content, it turned and flew off in another direction. Watching the hawk fly away was a sight to behold. It happened so quickly but I won’t soon forget the astounding wing span it had. I couldn’t get past the fact that I was within twenty feet of a hawk.
Without a hawk to maintain our attention, we moved on towards Marist. Once we came within a few hundred feet of the end of the arboretum, we were greeted by a paved drive meant to allow access to St. Ann’s Hermitage. As the warm scent of brush left me, I was greeted by the dry, pungent scent of wet asphalt. We were still in the cover of the trees, but we were now on pavement. A minute later, the cover of the trees left us and I stared southward upon Fontaine, Dyson, Gartland, and the rest of the Marist campus.
The sight of the black pavement and its abrasive road paint assaulted my eyes almost as if it was a foreign design I had never seen before. The lack of tree cover forced all the unnatural colors of the campus back into my retinas. The noise of people and cars met my ears once again and the hustle and bustle of daily life was back to command my attention. My eyes begrudgingly adjusted, I returned home and started my homework.
27 March 2010
21 February 2010
Haiti Solidarity Project Connection
This post and future posts here will serve as a forum for students and faculty to connect on projects for Haiti Solidarity Day. Below, I will list the different things that we will need student/faculty driven groups on. If you are interested in a project, leave your name, what you'd like to do for the project, and the best way to contact you. Please comment with what you are interested in and hopefully we can get people to cover all the bases.
1) We need a group of people who are interested in creating posters/fliers and running the advertising for the event. This would include getting the word out on campus in every way possible.
2) I know there are several students already working on a trafficking project or are interested in doing a project on trafficking. Can all of you please get in touch so that you can get on the same page.
3) We need a group of students to create a project on the refugee/displaced persons crisis after the earthquake. If you are interested but don't know where to look/what to look into I will work with you.
4) I will be working on a project on the prospect of debt relief to Haiti. Anyone who would like to join me, I would love to have some help on it.
5) There is going to be a project on clean water run by a group already on campus. John Boss is the person to contact if you are interested in this.
6) Depending on how many people are interested in this topic will depend on how many projects will come out of it. Mar and I would like a group to outline the humanitarian response to the earthquake including Partners in Health, the Red Cross, and the comfort ship. If there are a good amount of people interested in this, we could break the groups into specific organizations.
7) We need a group to create a project on the vital aspects of Haitian culture and to connect the tragedy with the rich culture Haiti has.
This is all we have right now, but we really need people to start giving us an idea of what you want to do. Use this thread as a way to share ideas and connect with others who are interested in the same things.
1) We need a group of people who are interested in creating posters/fliers and running the advertising for the event. This would include getting the word out on campus in every way possible.
2) I know there are several students already working on a trafficking project or are interested in doing a project on trafficking. Can all of you please get in touch so that you can get on the same page.
3) We need a group of students to create a project on the refugee/displaced persons crisis after the earthquake. If you are interested but don't know where to look/what to look into I will work with you.
4) I will be working on a project on the prospect of debt relief to Haiti. Anyone who would like to join me, I would love to have some help on it.
5) There is going to be a project on clean water run by a group already on campus. John Boss is the person to contact if you are interested in this.
6) Depending on how many people are interested in this topic will depend on how many projects will come out of it. Mar and I would like a group to outline the humanitarian response to the earthquake including Partners in Health, the Red Cross, and the comfort ship. If there are a good amount of people interested in this, we could break the groups into specific organizations.
7) We need a group to create a project on the vital aspects of Haitian culture and to connect the tragedy with the rich culture Haiti has.
This is all we have right now, but we really need people to start giving us an idea of what you want to do. Use this thread as a way to share ideas and connect with others who are interested in the same things.
The Difficulty of Debt Relief
Aside from the many humanitarian issues that have been ravaging Haiti in the last month, there are many other issues that have been plaguing the small Caribbean nation. Perhaps the most important economic disparity that Haiti suffers is the massive amount of debt they owe to the IMF, World Bank, and other western creditors.
Although debt relief to Haiti was already discussed and passed by the IMF last July, there are many other lingering issues that have yet to be resolved. Before the earthquake, there was no deal brokered between the World Bank and Haiti about the prospect of Haitian debt relief; approximately 27% of Haiti’s external debt is owed to the World Bank.
On February 7 the G7 – the world’s seven richest countries – agreed on a tentative plan that would relieve Haiti of its debt to these nations. This is a gesture that will be of great help to Haiti. On the other hand, it is a short term solution that industrialized nations are using as an excuse to “fix” poorer nations without creating a long term development plan.
In 2005 the IMF went through a process they called the Multilateral Debt Relief Initiative where they cancelled the debt of heavily indebted countries. One of these countries was Nicaragua. Ben Beachy, an independent educator working for Witness for Peace, was working in Nicaragua when these programs were enacted. He noted that, “Just after pledging $201 million of debt relief for Nicaragua, the IMF has also promised to reactivate its stalled economic program with the country, meaning a new IMF loan package of about $100 million.”
This is common neoliberal double speak. They first allow for the cancellation of a debt that was clearly never going to be diminished any time soon, and replaced it with another loan that the country cannot afford. Not only that, but they riddle the loan with stipulations that dictate the social and economic policies of the debtor. These tighter regulations cause impoverished nations to cancel the only social programs they have protecting their people from abject poverty.
In the case of Nicaragua, it lead to an across the board decrease in healthcare. What resulted was a mass humanitarian setback where thousands of sick Nicaraguans could not access public hospitals that they had previously relied on for simple treatments such as infections and broken bones.
With the things that western nations and organizations have pledged to Haiti, upwards of 70% of its debt will be absolved. Although this will allow the Haitian government to focus more on rebuilding its nation, 80% of the Haitian population still lives under the poverty line, 27% live in abject poverty, and the country is posting a negative GDP growth.
After all the cameras leave Haiti, and everyone in the western world feels great for contributing money to such an impoverished nation, they will still be suffering, and they will still be in need. Haiti needs debt relief that does not have predatory stipulations and they need help rebuilding their nation.
-mike
Although debt relief to Haiti was already discussed and passed by the IMF last July, there are many other lingering issues that have yet to be resolved. Before the earthquake, there was no deal brokered between the World Bank and Haiti about the prospect of Haitian debt relief; approximately 27% of Haiti’s external debt is owed to the World Bank.
On February 7 the G7 – the world’s seven richest countries – agreed on a tentative plan that would relieve Haiti of its debt to these nations. This is a gesture that will be of great help to Haiti. On the other hand, it is a short term solution that industrialized nations are using as an excuse to “fix” poorer nations without creating a long term development plan.
In 2005 the IMF went through a process they called the Multilateral Debt Relief Initiative where they cancelled the debt of heavily indebted countries. One of these countries was Nicaragua. Ben Beachy, an independent educator working for Witness for Peace, was working in Nicaragua when these programs were enacted. He noted that, “Just after pledging $201 million of debt relief for Nicaragua, the IMF has also promised to reactivate its stalled economic program with the country, meaning a new IMF loan package of about $100 million.”
This is common neoliberal double speak. They first allow for the cancellation of a debt that was clearly never going to be diminished any time soon, and replaced it with another loan that the country cannot afford. Not only that, but they riddle the loan with stipulations that dictate the social and economic policies of the debtor. These tighter regulations cause impoverished nations to cancel the only social programs they have protecting their people from abject poverty.
In the case of Nicaragua, it lead to an across the board decrease in healthcare. What resulted was a mass humanitarian setback where thousands of sick Nicaraguans could not access public hospitals that they had previously relied on for simple treatments such as infections and broken bones.
With the things that western nations and organizations have pledged to Haiti, upwards of 70% of its debt will be absolved. Although this will allow the Haitian government to focus more on rebuilding its nation, 80% of the Haitian population still lives under the poverty line, 27% live in abject poverty, and the country is posting a negative GDP growth.
After all the cameras leave Haiti, and everyone in the western world feels great for contributing money to such an impoverished nation, they will still be suffering, and they will still be in need. Haiti needs debt relief that does not have predatory stipulations and they need help rebuilding their nation.
-mike
21 January 2010
The Me me-generation?
Teenagers and Twenty-somethings are being described as members of the “me- generation”. A generation overpowered by narcissism and generally lacking humility. Raina Kelley, from Newsweek, describes in my contemporaries as “ego-addled, spoiled brats” and “hot house flowers puffed with disproportionate senses of self worth” . This past semester, class discussions often touched on our current, disconnected generation. Students and professors commonly agreed that individuals are becoming more self-centered and less concerned about their community. People remain confined within the bubbles of their individual lives, constantly working to get a raise or receive the best possible grade, yet not caring about the well-being of others. Everyone seemed to accept this theory of the “me-generation”, without much question or critique. Yet, I found myself in sharp disagreement, especially after helping to organize a fundraiser to support children in Calcutta.
I was able to organize a benefit open-mic night at a local coffeehouse this past semester, only because of the enormous support and help from other students. At first, I doubted many students would attend. After all, aren’t we the “me-generation”? I thought most students would be too busy, too lazy, or simply not care enough to attend the event. But, I was wrong.
The coffeehouse was packed with students. There was not an inch of free space to stand, let alone to sit and enjoy a latte. A vast array of students performed: Kevin Manning showed us his magic tricks, student-comedian Vinny Pagano filled the spare space with laughter, Alexa Warshany left people breathless as she sang and played guitar, and both the female and male a cappella groups sang some tunes. The coffeehouse was filled with music, laughter, and conversation from nine until midnight. This could not have been done without students like Courtney Meek, who tracked down talented students who would be willing to perform, or Lauren Goodman, who designed a beautiful flyer to publicize the event. It was the collective and collaborative action of students, who took a break from their personal lives and to-do lists, that made this event such a huge success.
By the end of the night, we were able to raise two hundred and sixty dollars in donations for the newly formed Calcutta Children’s Project. This project supports the educational, medical, and nutritional needs of about fifty children living and working in a small, contained dump in Calcutta. The money we raised was enough to send all the children to school for one year.
As I sat on the arm of a sofa in the dimly lit coffeehouse and observed students empty their wallets above the donation basket, or cheer for a nervous friend who was about to perform, I realized that this event was more than just a successful fundraiser. It was proof that our generation does not consist of self-centered and hyper-competitive individuals. It consists of people who are willing to humbly give to others, connect with others, and support each other. It was proof of how the “me-generation” is a big, fat lie.
-Sam
I was able to organize a benefit open-mic night at a local coffeehouse this past semester, only because of the enormous support and help from other students. At first, I doubted many students would attend. After all, aren’t we the “me-generation”? I thought most students would be too busy, too lazy, or simply not care enough to attend the event. But, I was wrong.
The coffeehouse was packed with students. There was not an inch of free space to stand, let alone to sit and enjoy a latte. A vast array of students performed: Kevin Manning showed us his magic tricks, student-comedian Vinny Pagano filled the spare space with laughter, Alexa Warshany left people breathless as she sang and played guitar, and both the female and male a cappella groups sang some tunes. The coffeehouse was filled with music, laughter, and conversation from nine until midnight. This could not have been done without students like Courtney Meek, who tracked down talented students who would be willing to perform, or Lauren Goodman, who designed a beautiful flyer to publicize the event. It was the collective and collaborative action of students, who took a break from their personal lives and to-do lists, that made this event such a huge success.
By the end of the night, we were able to raise two hundred and sixty dollars in donations for the newly formed Calcutta Children’s Project. This project supports the educational, medical, and nutritional needs of about fifty children living and working in a small, contained dump in Calcutta. The money we raised was enough to send all the children to school for one year.
As I sat on the arm of a sofa in the dimly lit coffeehouse and observed students empty their wallets above the donation basket, or cheer for a nervous friend who was about to perform, I realized that this event was more than just a successful fundraiser. It was proof that our generation does not consist of self-centered and hyper-competitive individuals. It consists of people who are willing to humbly give to others, connect with others, and support each other. It was proof of how the “me-generation” is a big, fat lie.
-Sam
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