Topic: Adventure

I have never thought of myself as a particularly adventurous person.  My father, mother, sister, and brother were always the people I admired most for their adventurous spirits, but I considered myself more like Ferdinand.  I liked to stay close to home, spend time with my family, and was painfully shy prior to the age of ten.  I’ve never completely outgrown my shy nature though most people are surprised at that piece of information because I also love to talk and socialize.  I wanted to be like the rest of my family and aspired to take risks and set off on my own, but I was so much more content just to feel safe and comfortable within the environs of my childhood.

 

Still, my brother and sister continued to encourage me to get out and see the world, and they were role models of their words.  K went to several different summer camps to play violin, and went on an exchange to France for a year.  My brother was a legendary  risk-taker.  He came close to death several times in his life, but always managed to find his way out of scrapes and return home once again.  I admired my brother deeply and wanted to emulate him, but I just couldn’t find it in myself to head out on my own adventure until the year I graduated from high school.   That year my brother was living in Wyoming working on an oil rig.  The money was terrific, and he was putting himself through university with the money he earned.  He invited me to come out and join him for the summer, so for my graduation present, I received a bus ticket to travel to meet up with my brother.

Even the bus trip was an eye-opener.  It was a 48 hour trip, and I met two European travelers, a 15 year old girl returning to Casper, Wyoming who was already a mother, and whose child had been abducted by her husband (who in turn was  probably all of 17), an alcoholic who proceeded to drink his way across the nation, and many other colorful characters.  It was like something out of a John Steinbeck novel except that I was in the midst of it.

 I ended up in Rawlins, Wyoming where my brother met my bus. He took me to his trailer, which was parked in the middle of nowhere.  There were antelopes, coyotes, a long stretch of nothingness as far as the eye could see, and a small café/bar/gas station. This was the only sign of civilization for 20 miles.  Even after those 20 miles, there was only a small town of perhaps 200 inhabitants.  People lived hard, drank hard, and aged early.

This was adventure!

“Fellowship in the Land of Fire and Ice” by Josh Roberts for SmarterTravel.com in The American Adventurer

Topic: Adventure

Josh Roberts details a seven day hike he took in Iceland in the summer.  His first impression of the territory is that of J. R. Tolkien’s description of both Middle Earth and the Shire.  He is impressed by the beauty, emptiness, and harshness of the landscape.  The group, led by a British guide named Kelso, consisted of 12 people. 

Their journey began in the shadow of the volcano, Mt. Hekla.  They hiked for six days covering 80 miles and only saw another person after three days of travel. They were above the tree line until the fifth day.  The land and weather were always changeable and variable.  The group witnessed lava field, treeless valleys, moss-covered foothills, bubbling sulfuric pools, glacial rivers, lakes, and snow-speckled mountain ridges.  Sun, snow, and hail were all a part of the weather and this was in the heart of summer.  Roberts also details some of the history of Iceland and how, like Australia, it was a place where convicts were exiled to live or die as they were able a thousand years ago.

Roberts thoroughly enjoyed the rugged journey and the landscape.

My Comments:

Last year my mother gave me a book she particularly liked called, A Good Horse Has No Color.  It is placed in Iceland.  It is a non-fiction tale of a woman’s love affair with Iceland and its horses, which led her to study the country, learn the language, and eventually purchase two horses to ship back to her home in America.  I loved the rich descriptions of the mythology of Iceland.  The stories were harsh and rugged, just like the landscape and people she describes.  Iceland has very special small, sturdy horses called Icelandics.  I have ridden these gaited creatures and they are quite lovely, though small. 

After reading the book, I wanted to travel to Iceland more than ever.  Perhaps I will one day, though I would prefer to ride across the landscape and see the view from the back of a horse as opposed to walking the mountains.  Perhaps one day I will do both.

Human ingenuity has driven the success of our modern species for over 50,000 years.  It is the great nature of our species to be able to create magnificent things that ease our lives, free up our time, enlighten us, move us forward at an ever greater pace, and at the same time, they have the potential to destroy us.  Whenever something new is created, even for the betterment of mankind, we cannot know what the final result of its production might be.  As simple as it sounds, I always liked the saying that for every action there is a reaction.  On its simplest level, this may mean that when we speak harshly to someone they may pop  us in the nose, but on  a grander scale there are always unseen affects for everything that is brought forth into our world from an idea to a machine to a theory to a book to a discovery.  We do not have to look very far to see that in the act of publishing The Communist Manifesto, a new political theory brought about monumental changes in the political system in many countries.  Furthermore, by reading something like Animal Farm, we are enlightened enough to see that the reaction to communism in action was not nearly what Marx thought it might be when he first imagined a world owned and controlled by the proletariat. 

Einstein could not help but pursue the atomic bomb as his mind teemed with ability and, yes, ingenuity, but he regretted deeply his part in the creation of a weapon of mass destruction once he saw the reaction (use) based on his initial action. 

Sometimes I think that instead of merely stating, “Let’s create this because we are able to do it”, we should be asking ourselves “Should we create this just because we can?”  We might also ask ourselves, “What will the implications be if we do this?” “Should we do this?” “What are the possible “reactions” or implications of our creation?”

I would actually take this a step further.  Many of us think that none of this applies to us as we are not the next great inventor or creator, but even the act of creating a piece of music can have implications that we might never realize.  When we choose to demand cheap clothing, fireworks, sex, or electronic objects, we put others at risk.  When we choose to have on more electrical lights than we need or to take a twenty minute shower, our actions will cause some reaction in the simplest form.  Some poor adult or child will have to work as a near slave in order to fill our order; the traffic in humans will continue to fill our sexual or labor needs; water will become an increasingly scarce commodity. But here is where it becomes the most critical.  In our desire to stop some of these egregious reactions to our actions, we may harm people.  For instance, if we all stop buying fireworks, what happens to the communities who depend upon the income?  Will there be a means to replace their lost income? 

Thinking is like that.  Actions call upon our deepest reserves to figure out what to do next.  It is easy to throw our hands up in the air and say it doesn’t matter, but it does.  Our ingenuity is our life blood, but we must use it to engineer the betterment of many, not just our own needs.

Article:  “Human Ingenuity”          Bali International School

On a website for Bali International School is an explanation for why the investigation of ingenuity makes perfect educational sense.  The brief essay begins with two essential questions: Why and how do we create?  What are the consequences?

The second question, in particular, drives why the discussion of human ingenuity matters at all.  We are an incredibly capable species and will continue to innovate, develop, explore, construct, invent, destroy, rationalize, and solve for all the time that we are given in this world.  Helping students explore the consequences of human thought and action is germane to what good schools try to achieve in their classrooms.

Using history to find examples of this behavior helps students to understand how human contributions is an ongoing process and shows humans as logical, clever, devious, and fallible.

Moving past concrete examples, students should also look at how ingenuity affects relationships and draws into question scientific, ethical, aesthetic, and technological consequences.  Both positive and negative consequences can be recognized by students when they explore the immensity of this field.

This area of study can involve the whole school community in a holistic view of “human activity” and can generate open-ended discussions and further investigation into the constructive and destructive forces of humans.  The ethical issues relating to progress and the responsibility that each individual and nation must accept in regards to human ingenuity is a way for students to explore the role of the individual within the confines of an integrated world.

Although the above writing is a summary of the piece that I read from the Bali International School, I also added in my own summation of what the author was trying to say.  I specifically chose this piece because I thought it tried to assess the importance of exploring the ingenuity of mankind within the context of an education.  I also appreciated how they assess both sides of the ingenious ability to create but also destroy at the same time.  I always liked the saying “for every action, there is a reaction”.  Though simple it can be taken at so many levels such as the literal, figurative, metaphysical, chemical, and inter-personal.  We never know when we speak, act, or create what the reaction to our action may result in.  That is another reason why this subject is worth exploring and pondering.  It relates to our overall characteristics as a species. 

12. Tell us about the neighborhood that you grew up in and how it helped shape you into the kind of person you are today. (Yale and the University of Chicago)

The branches of the oaks still reach across the small, narrow lane sky-carpeting it with a rich dappling when the sun shines above.   The road, only wide enough for one car at a time, is a dead-end, and our house is the last one on the left.  In fact, there are no houses on the right; instead, there is a steep embankment that rises 100 yards up to a road that parallels my street, Crest Drive.  All the houses are positioned around a deep spring-fed lake.  Summer is the season I identify with most from my childhood and nearly all my deepest connections reside in that season. It is difficult to separate the influence of my family from my neighborhood on who I have become, but certainly my internal landscape has everything to do with that childhood place I called home.

The muggy, warm season in Michigan was filled with shorts, bicycles, horses, swimming, reading, fireflies, and hiding in the deep, over-the-head grass in the vacant lot next door to my house.  Up the embankment was a whole other neighborhood with two grocery stores, a five and dime, pharmacy, ice cream store, gas station, and candy store.  But down on Crest Drive, next to the lake, it was a world unto its own filled with peaceful, lazy days, cool shade, simple adventures, delicious food, and always, the inviting water.  Sometimes I think I spent four to six hours a day playing, swimming, boating, and reading by that lake.

It was an idyllic neighborhood of expansive green lawns, attractive clapboard style houses, tall trees, broad roads and open vistas.  There was peace, quiet, and safety.  It always felt separate from the rest of the city.  I knew every road and house in that neighborhood.  Not only did I walk all around it regularly, I ran through the streets at many different times of day and night.  I didn’t need to see that well, all I needed was to feel the road with my feet.  My heart always knew the way.  I felt no sense of fear or danger, but more as if I was cradled in the arms of a loving embrace.  Whereas my home life often left me bewildered and confused, somehow my neighborhood gave me confidence.

The years swept away before me, and soon I stood on the threshold of a departure that would at first only take me some hundreds of miles away from home, but later one thousand, then two and eventually ten thousand miles away from my lake, my house, my avenues, and all the things that had become so familiar to me over the years of my childhood.

Still, it never left me; only I, it. I still am that boisterous girl who would blast out of the back door of my home, feet flying as I raced down the hill and straight into the lake.  I still relish dripping, fresh watermelon from a nearby farm, and its sweet coolness in my mouth.  I still have the boldness of certainty just as I did when I would announce to my mother and father that I was going for a run at 9:00 at night, though it has tempered with time and experience.  The strength of my heart and legs still propel me forward as they once did over those darkened roads, taking a small chance in order to feel freedom and independence while the wind and night air blows past me.   I still enjoy the magic of fireflies lighting up the night, illuminating a point for the briefest moment and then disappearing into the mysterious dark.  Though at times shadowed with greater uncertainty, I have come to understand both the inspiring and sorrowful complexities of life.

 If a landscape can shape who a person becomes, then my first landscape taught me to yearn for wide open spaces, the rush of water, an infinite view that offered scope for the imagination, and gave me the self-assuredness to go out and find those things wherever I found myself.

A bold, adventurous woman emerged from her neighborhood and went out into the world, but the sweetness of spring and summer remained within her. Now, as she begins to move into the late fall of her life, she draws more heavily on those earlier seasons of hope, renewal, wonder, and the endless possibilities that still awaited her.

Emel 

Sunday March 4, 2012

"Engineered Ingenuity"

Issue 87 December 2011

In the Gaza Strip where the Palestinian people struggle daily due to an uneasy relationship with and an occupation by Israel, students at the Khan Younis Training College decided to build a racing car from scratch. Dr. Ghassan Abu-Orf, the dean of the KYTC campus, became the sponsoring staff member who guided the students to reach their goal.  It took approximately one year for nine girls working just on fund-raising to earn the $70,000 needed for the project.  It was difficult to find any companies who were willing to send the necessary parts and even once they did, the Israeli government would not allow the parts to enter the Gaza Strip.  The students did not give up, but scavenged the parts from any resource they could find including motorcycles and plumbing pipes. The students even had to scramble to find the appropriate tools and machines to turn their salvage into parts worthy for a car.  It took one year to build and the day they took their test drive was emotional for "everyone involved."

It is apparent that the ingenuity and drive that it took Palestinian students, who have rudimentary tools, machinery, parts and lack available materials, is an excellent example of what it means to make something from nearly nothing.  To figure out how to persevere in raising money, finding materials and turning them all into a racing car that runs is surely worthy of note.  Some might argue that students who have such difficult personal circumstances should not be wasting their time on a race car that will do little to improve their situation, but they would be missing the point. The students came together as a team.  Even girls were involved in the process of creating this car.  They learned to fund-raise, find appropriate parts, and to deal with the disappointment of defeat.  They learned perseverance and more importantly how, when everything else has appeared to have failed, to pick up the pieces and use their own human ingenuity to solve the problem and create an object that symbolized all their efforts, trials, and tribulations.

It does not really matter what they built, or even if it could win.  The lessons learned when using ingenuity are so much deeper and richer that they often go unnoticed.  We would do well to all be put in a situation where we reach inside ourselves and create something where nothing once stood, but not with a limitless account or every resource at our fingertips, but when we have to swing and sway in the wind hoping that it will come right and constantly figuring out how to make it happen even when it seems impossible.  That is the curiosity and spirit of ingenuity that makes humans and their creations endlessly interesting.  Yes, we can debate the positives and negatives of what some ingenious creations have brought us, but it is in the task of creation where I find the true test of who we are as human beings.

Yankee Ingenuity

When I was a little girl, my mother was my absolute hero, and I was a momma’s girl through and through.  My mother was beautiful, smart, reassuring and the person I always wanted to be near. And on top of that, she had a clear ability to solve simple problems in a pragmatic, no-nonsense way.  I clearly remember her looking at me one time as we stood side by side near the edge of the lake our home was built upon and saying, “That’s Yankee ingenuity, Karen.”  I’ve never forgotten that moment and in so many ways my memories of my mother are synonymous with my idea of ingenuity.  She embodied it.  She knew how to make do with what she had, solve problems with very little material or financial resources, and keep us all on the road forward.

A perfect example of her ingenuity, though simple, is from one summer when I was either four or five.   I had taken the top off my right big toe in some accident, and it was bright red and extremely tender.  I either went barefoot or wore open-toe sandals that summer.  She had taken us to a beach on a lake not far from our house to spend the day, and my toe was so tender that both the sand of the beach and the water washing over it prevented me from playing or swimming.  I remember the disappointment of watching my older brother and sister having such a good time while I was stuck sitting on the blanket with my mother.

She had nothing with which to wrap it, but she looked around the beach and found the end piece of an old balloon.  It was just small enough that when she stretched it over my toe it stayed put.  I certainly looked funny running around with the end of a red balloon flipping and swinging at the end of my toe, but the rest of the day was spent in blissful play and cool water.  That was “Yankee ingenuity.”