Notice a moment. It can be beautiful. It can be unexpected. But notice, recognize, and capture. Send it to me.
That was my assignment for today.
The purpose was two-fold.
1. Over the past several weeks my Writing, Rhetoric and Discourse class has been reading articles titled "Is Google Making Us Stupid" and "Studies Explore if This is the Dumbest Generation". They say no. I say perhaps (most definitely). We all agree that the generation is lazy. The majority of my students do not know where the University library is and only a handful of students knew what I meant when I referred to the stacks. This current generation of college students is missing a large part of what made my college so memorable and special - it cannot all be found in a dorm room playing World of Warcraft and all that could, and should, be learned is not available on Wikipedia.
I learned that my students do not remember the last time they turned their cell phone off; they admitted they are afraid of silence, afraid of their own thoughts. When asked what they truly believe in, less than 10 percent could express something. The Seinfeld notion of nihilism is certainly strong at the college level. That alone is troubling, but not something that I have the class time or the resources to fully tackle. Their lack of living in the moment, though, was something I could take a stand on. Encourage them to take their face out of their cell phone screen to actually notice the world that they passively drift through.
So they had to find a moment of beauty. The only rule was that they could not use the Internet to find it.
My email was filled with 43 pictures today. I would like to share several with you - along with the rationale the student provided.
It seems really cliche for me to send a picture of flowers but it was more than just the flowers that made yesterday beautiful. With the weather being absolutely gorgeous the past two days my friends and I went to Lincoln Park to study. After about three hours of reading and studying we walked through the conservatory and it was probably one of the most beautiful places I've been to in awhile. It wasn't just the beauty of the plants but also the beauty of the day. I was able to leave the library and be productive out in the real world. I was not connected to the internet or any form of electronic device (accidentally left my phone in the dorm). Upon seeing the flowers I could not have been happier with how my day was, and that is when I was really able to appreciate the beauty of a flower on march 6th.
The picture I chose to take was this one. I take for granted the fact that I live in such an amazing metropolis and don't remember that I might never have the chance to live in the Chicago loop. To be able to live here is a beautiful thing.
This is a picture of my buddy Ray. We saw these dogs attached to a tree so Ray starts to play with them. I have never seen him so happy! Happiness equals Beauty!
I am sending you this picture for my unexpected beauty assignment. This flag flies above my neighbors house. He was a member of the armed forces and died roughly six months ago of an aneurysm. The flag has been flying since the day he passed away. I never realized how beautiful it was until I took a picture of it.
I took this picture last night while I was driving through the city. It was Chicago's 175th anniversary so that is why the 175 is on the building. I would of never seen it if I was on my phone texting. I thought this was a pretty amazing photo. Hope you like it! Have a great day!
This was taken on a bridge in Pescara, Italy. Each lock is a wish someone made. It reminds me that hope can be tangible.
I woke up early and walked to the beach before the sunrise. I do this when I am overwhelmed. Today I am glad I did because the sunrise over Lake Michigan was beautiful and is often unseen.
I was walking down the lake shore and saw this - someone had written it in chalk (is this the right way to use dashes? I am trying to work on expanding my styles for you). I thought the message was beautiful and unexpected. Who doesn't think this at times, but who rarely expresses that feeling.
2. My second motive for this assignment was purely selfish. I needed some beauty. I needed to know that others saw the beauty, too.
I don't like this day. I don't like it for two reasons. One is complicated and long, and not something I am willing to go into here. But the other is more recent, and quite concrete.
I need to tell you about my Aunt Marie.
There have been numerous moments over this academic year when I have asked myself what my Aunt Marie would do. Marie Stevens, the first female Dean of Students at Western Michigan University, knew how to handle delicate and sensitive issues that college students face. She would know how to find the young man who went MIA after sending a cryptic email. She would know what to say to the panicking young woman who showed up in my office door frame. She would know how to find funding for the students who want so desperately to be here, and put forth great effort to succeed, but can't pay the full tuition and therefore have to leave. She would know how to help the student that is homeless and sleeping on the floor of the computer lab. She would know how to whip the entitled and disrespectful lazy students into shape. I think about her every time I try to fix their problems, help them find their place in the world. I think of the stories Aunt Marie told me and figure out how she would handle the situation.
There was about a week, week and half, when we knew that Aunt Marie was dying. I was in Chicago, working and taking classes to complete my masters. She was in Michigan. I didn't get to see her. She didn't want me there; she didn't want me to remember her the way that she was at that final moment. Every day I asked mom if I should come home, if she had changed her mind about me coming. Every day mom said no.
I should have gone anyway.
I was very angry. I still am. I was angry at her for not wanting me there, for thinking I would only remember her in that last time. But I was more angry with myself. How did she know how much I loved her if I couldn't even make it there; what good was honoring her wish?
But honor it I did. And instead of seeing her again, I built the flowers for her celebration of life. They were bright and vibrant. Flashes of red, streaks of purple, frothy petals winking at the clouds. They were big and powerful. Unexpected. Unexpected moments of beauty and movement on a day I did not want to be witnessing. They were on tables, and tucked in corners. They were every where you looked.
Every time I see a purple iris I think of my Aunt Marie. When I catch a glimpse of her Golden Gate Bridge print that hangs on my office wall I pause. Each time I look at my students I think what a great team we are making.
And now I will associate 43 beautiful captured moments with my Aunt Marie.
I know she would be proud of how much of her there is in me. How much of what I believe is influenced by her.
I miss her a great deal. Kiddo, I can hear her say, stop being dramatic. Oh, but grant me a quick moment. Then I'll buck up and have some mashed potatoes and peas. Just allow me one moment to be dramatic and sentimental. And a little bit sad.
Today marks two years. She never married. She never had children. But she was - and is - so very loved.
