A "Boon-tiful" Quest

This week (Aug 31st) is our final double portion.  Our first chapter is "Many farewells," and in it we wrap up many of the outstanding story lines.

• Eomer announces the wedding of Eowyn and Faramir (And Eowyn does, indeed, have some dialogue.  It isn't as much as we may hope, but she was never the central figure of the story anyway, so we need to keep our expectations realistic.  While she was certainly demoted in the previous chapter, she at least is still given an active place in the story)
• Gimli shows Legolas the Glittering Caves of Helm's Deep, and Legolas guides Gimli around Fangorn Forest.
• Eomer, who had offended Gimli earlier by referring to Galadriel as a witch, makes amends when he sees her, and admits to Gimli he was wrong in his judgment.
• Theoden is buried in Rohan, and Merry mourns him, "Like a father to me, for a time."
• The Hobbits find Bilbo in Rivendell and share their adventures with him.

This chapter makes it clear that, while the drama is over, our characters go on, and that they did not live only for war.  War was the enemy, and now that it is defeated, they are free to live the lives they always wished to.

The second chapter is "Homeward bound."  The hobbits say farewell to their other friends and head off toward the Shire (with Gandalf).  They arrive at Bree, where they stayed so long ago, and where they met Aragorn.  They expect a warm welcome, but to no avail.  The gatekeeper is very gruff until he recognizes them.  Evidently, all is not well.

Butterbur, the proprietor of the Prancing Pony, informs them that, over the past year, robbers and worse have been coming to Bree and the surrounding areas, and that news from the Shire is even worse.  It seems as though the hobbits have more to do to wrap up their own story

Butterbur does make an interesting comment at some point.  "Some [who came to Bree and started the trouble] were just poor folk running away from trouble."  What trouble?  Probably, possibly, related to what the Quest was about in the first place.  It's difficult to bring down an enemy without causing some collateral damage - and that damage needs to be accounted for somewhere.  In the case of our hobbits, while they've been off saving the world, their home has been in dire need.

There are many examples of this throughout time.  Somehow, fighting the enemy without causes the enemy within, or at least allows the enemy a chance to strike.  It would have been better, maybe, to have just done nothing.  But we cannot grow without some pain.  Biologically, growth is always about a cycle of destruction and creation (Read the sidebar).  Growth always involves leaving an old perception behind.

Obviously, Frodo (and the others) were right to leave the Shire, even if it meant exposing it to this kind of harm.  In fact, had they not, they would have not been able to help.  They needed to go out on the Quest to acquire the skills required the defend it.  The Shire had been kept safe by hidden forces, but now those forces are fading.  Merry says to Gandalf, almost casually, "Well, we've got you with us, so things will soon be cleared up."  Gandalf says, "I am not coming to the Shire.  You must settle its affairs yourselves."  The Shire needs heroes of its own.

Mythologically speaking, this is the boon.  The boon is what is brought back from the hero's journey.  the boon proves the hero completed the quest, as well as improves the lives of the hero's home.  The hero did not go on an adventure merely for their own benefit, but for the benefit of all.  So what is the boon here?

In our case, the Ring was destroyed and Frodo lost a finger - they've actually returned with fewer things than they came.  But they, through their trials, gained knowledge and wisdom and grit.  Hobbits are notorious sluggards and pranksters.  But now, when our hobbits share their boon, they will be able to become their own heroes.  No longer will they need to depend on others for protection, but also no longer will they be able to live in blissful ignorance of the Outside.  But that is the price of growth.

In the next chapter we will see, while witnessing another cycle of creative destruction, the Shire receive and accept the boon.  We will follow our heroes complete their own quest (not just The Quest).

The Taming of the Shieldmaiden

This week's (Aug 24th's, really) chapter is called "The Steward and the King."  In it, Aragorn returns to Minas Tirith and begins the rule of his realm.  The title of the chapter refers to the moment when Aragorn refuses Faramir's surrender of the office of Steward, stating that victory over Mordor was not his alone, and that he has not come to the city to take what rightly belongs to others.  However, that moment is not the subject of our conversation today.

Earlier in the chapter, we rewind a little and find Eowyn and Faramir together in the Houses of Healing.  There has been no news yet from the army that marched north to battle Sauron at the Black Gate.  Their fate is still uncertain.

Eowyn despairs at her situation.  She is not happy she survived the battle of the Pelennor Fields, and wishes to leave in order to join the army.  The Warden of the House of Healings forbids Eowyn from leaving his care, saying she is still not better.  She complains to Faramir, "I looked for death in battle.  But I have not died, and battle still goes on."  We know that Eowyn is a shield maiden, and that she defies how women are portrayed in our text.  She certainly confounds Faramir, who asks how he can help her.

Before continuing, I want to point out that our creative wizard, Tolkien, was a man, and that his stated view of women is definitely quite negative.  That the work is written by a man, and largely for a male audience (I feel safe assuming that because it was published in the 1950s, though if you disagree with my assumption feel free to speak up), the women are not portrayed in a particularly accurate manner.  Better yet, they are portrayed accurately in regards to what men think women are.  Here's a quote from a Cracked article on the subject:

Right now I'm reading a book from mega-selling fantasy author George R. R. Martin. The

following is a passage where he is writing from the point of view of a woman -- always a

tough thing for men to do.  The girl is on her way to a key confrontation, and the

narrator describes it thusly:

When she went to the stables, she wore faded sandsilk pants and woven grass

sandals.  Her small breasts moved freely beneath a painted Dothraki vest...

That's written from the woman's point of view.  Yes, when a male writes a female,

he assumes that she spends every moment thinking about the size of

her breasts and what they are doing.  "Janet walked her boobs across the city square. 'I can

see them staring at my boobs,' she thought, boobily."  He assumes that women are

thinking of themselves the same way [men] think of them.

And Martin is quoted as saying "I've always considered women to be people."  And that's still what we get.  So what happens when Tolkien tried to write a significant turning point in a woman's life?

The next day, they receive news of the victory at the Gate, and Eomer sends an invitation to Eowyn to join them at the celebration at Field of Cormallon.  Faramir is not invited, because he needs to remain in the city.  When they speak, Eowyn tells him she refuses to go.

Faramir asks Eowyn what she would like.  Eowyn responds: "I would have you command this Warden and beg him let me go."  But the text comments, "But though her words were still proud, her heart faltered, and for the first time she doubted herself.  She guessed this man, both stern and gentle, might think her merely wayward."

That seems to be a weird thought for Eowyn to have, after all she's been through.  How does Faramir, whom she just met, cause self doubt to begin to well inside her?

Faramir ventures two guesses why: either because she does not want to leave him behind or she is upset Eomer invited her, and not Aragorn.  Then he blurts out, rather awkwardly, "Eowyn, do you not love me, or will you not?"  Eowyn says she "wished to be loved by another.  But I desire no man's pity."  Faramir's rant continues, "You desired to have the love of the Lord Aragorn... but when he gave you only understanding and pity, then you desired to have nothing, unless a brave death in battle.  Look at me, Eowyn!  Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Eowyn.  But I do not offer you my pity... you are beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the tongue to tell.  And I love you,  Eowyn, do you not love me?"

"Then the heart of Eowyn changed, or else at last she understood it... "I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying.  I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.""

So that's... sudden.  It's a big reversal.  Eowyn was the antithesis of what it was to be a woman in Middle Earth (Part of that being: she had significant dialogue and despised the love of men.  (Even Galadriel, when tempted with the Ring, her idea of absolute power is to be beautiful, so that "all shall love me and despair.")).  Now, due to Faramir's... persistence... she relents and becomes "a good girl."  I'm actually curious how much more dialogue she will have in our text or if, having been tamed, she fades away as an individual.

Faramir's attitude to Eowyn is also desperate and forceful.  "And I love you, Eowyn, do you not love me?" is good drama, but what about in real life?  What if we knew someone who didn't have feelings for someone but then, suddenly, relented and admitted s/he did.  It just isn't convincing.  We'd be suspicious.

This is, we could infer, Tolkien's view on women.  They are stubborn and want only whom they cannot have.  Not receiving whom they wish, they become self-destructive.  And only a gentle and persistent man can bring them back around.  These women should be grateful these men took the time to rescue them.

There is a lot to criticize here.  What does Faramir love about Eowyn?  They spend a few days during the chapter talking before he declares his love, but he seems smitten with her almost immediately.  That obviously isn't unbelievable, we've all met "beautiful strangers."  But, if a relationship is to come of that, it needs to deepen somehow.  When Faramir explains his love, he only cites that she is beautiful.

There is another question with Eowyn's moment of revelation.  "Then the heart of Eowyn changed, or else at last she understood it."  What does that mean?  Either Eowyn's very heart undergoes a change (The last thing said to her here is "Do you not love me?"), or she finally understands what her [woman's] heart wants, which is love from a man and to be a healer and a grower.  Not the sort of thing we look for in modern feminism.  And even those who oppose feminism would unlikely take up this view.  It's very extreme, compared to our current ideas.

What do we do with all of this information?  In the text this is supposed to be something we rejoice at.  Eowyn has recovered from her death wish.  But not by her own volition, but because Faramir emotionally wears her down.  While we can view Eowyn as the last of those in Middle Earth who want to fight, and who need to accept that the battle is over, and it is time to learn a new way of life, it is difficult to ignore that Eowyn is a woman.  No other character seems to struggle with the transition.  Faramir was ready for the transition even when he met Frodo and Sam in Ithilien.  And, in any event, Eowyn's motivation was unrequited love.

Here is an incredibly sloppy defense of Tolkien's sexism.  I share it because it takes a very apologist point of view.  It basically says, "Yeah parts are kind of sexist but at least he isn't misogynistic," which seems like an unusual line to draw.  Here's a quote from the article: They are almost never "traps" for men (although they do often seem like "trophies").  In fact, Tolkien tends to place his women on pedestals so high that I can't imagine him hating them at all (the realism of these "pedestal women" is another discussion entirely).  The author manages to acknowledge a series of problems and then immediately dismisses them, or makes grossly inaccurate assumptions (If the women in the text are on such high pedestals that no real woman could possibly reach them, then that is absolutely sexist because - if one has such high standards that are not met - you better believe that embitters them towards women).  It seems bizarre to state the women are not traps, and then casually acknowledge they are trophies and then move on. 

There is no good defense of Tolkien's sexism and the sexism within Middle Earth.  At least when sexism happens in Westeros, Martin has his female characters protest, even if to no avail.  We sense Martin knows sexism and disagrees with it, even if he accepts it as occasionally inevitable.  With Tolkien, we see very little protest.  We can love the work even if we see gaping holes in it.  The problem comes with dismissing those shortcomings, or ignoring them.

I suppose there isn't a lesson here.  "Don't be sexist" doesn't really count as one, and in any event this chapter doesn't teach us not to be.  But it is interesting that, after so much story, Eowyn's ends in a way that is sudden and unsatisfying.  Given how drawn out the ending of our text is, it seems a shame that their entire relationship is covered only in one chapter.  I really wonder how much more dialogue Eowyn will have.  I'll be disappointed if the last we here from her is a renouncement of everything that made her an exciting character, and a promise to Faramir to fall in line with other women.

I guess we'll find out together...

Update:  She does have some dialogue after this chapter.  In the chapter "Many Partings," she (having married Faramir) says to Aragorn "Wish me joy, my liege-lord and healer!" Soon after she gives Merry an heirloom of Rohan.  Then the narrative follows the hobbits to the Shire, leaving Eowyn behind in Gondor.  So she does get a relatively good send-off.

This book goes ever on and on!

Our chapter this week (Well, Aug 17th) is called "The Field of Cormallen."  When the Ring is destroyed, the forces of Mordor flee.  The eagles arrive and Gandalf rides them to find Frodo and Sam and rescue them.  Several days later, we find Frodo and Sam asleep in a bed, recovering from their ordeal.

The story seems to be over.  The destruction of the Ring was the climax, after all.  But we have 6 more chapters to go!  How is this?  What is left to talk about?

The "Return of the King" film has been criticized for having too many endings.  The book suffers from this, too - though suffer may not be the right word.  Recall what Faramir said many chapters ago:  "War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory.  I love only that which they defend."  The purpose of the story is not to celebrate victory over Sauron, but instead to celebrate how, now that Sauron is destroyed, life can return to normal.

But in order to appreciate that, we need to see it.  And that can potentially be pretty boring.  But that's because happiness is pretty boring.  Here's a quote, not from our text: "Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensation for misery.  And, of course, stability isn't nearly so spectacular as instability.  And being content has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt.  Happiness is never grand."  That's why most stories end with "Happily ever after."  Because the story, the interesting part, was the conflict.  Living happily is, for the most part, boring and routine.  So the story ends.

But our text intends to delve pretty deep into "happily ever after."  What does it look like, and in what ways are people happy?  Aragorn will soon become the king.  Gimli and Legolas have promised each other they will do a tour of Middle Earth together.  The Hobbits still have to get back home.  And then there's Gandalf and Eowyn and Eomer and Faramir.  What happens to them?  There's a lot to cover.

"Happily ever after" is a very blanket statement.  Happiness can come in many forms.  But happiness is also, as stated above, kind of boring.  That boredom can affect an otherwise good job or good relationship or good routine.  Howard Stern once said (8:43), "There's nothing more exciting than the announcement... But then you actually have to go out and get it done."  I'm starting two new jobs, and that's very exciting.  But I'm certain in a few months I'll start to feel the drag of employment.  Even this blog fits into that pattern - the first few weeks were a blast, but then I got into a routine, and I still like it but... I have to keep doing it.  And if I don't, but still got a high from the announcement, that's sort of like cheating the system.  That's why we look down on people who get married, but can't stay married, but then get married again, but can't stay married again.  They're hooked on the idea of an exciting wedding day, but they aren't able to follow through.

We can't really live from one high of excitement to the next.  Or, if we need that boost, we shouldn't get it from our real lives.  That's messy.  But that's what video games and sports teams and fantasy teams and movies and books are for.  We as humans don't do great with routine.  As Barry Manilow said, "I'm doing OK, but not very well."  We need more to feel really alive.

In the coming chapters we will see the characters deal with the consequences of victory, and find a place for themselves in the post-Sauron world.  It will sometimes feel like the book is dragging on, but that's how life can feel after a big victory.  And rather than looking for another fight to have, we should try to learn how to embrace the calm and enjoy happiness, stability and contentment.  Even if they aren't very grand.

What's a "eucatastrophe" anyway?

Our chapter this week (Err, August 10th) is called "Mount Doom", and is the climax of our whole text.  Every chapter has led us to this point.  Frodo has brought the Ring to Mount Doom to destroy it.  He enters the mountain, which is pitch black inside except when the lava shoots up from below to light the cavern.  With this ominous setting Sam watches as Frodo stands at the edge of the walkway, directly over the lava.  And then Frodo says:

"I have come, but I do not choose to do what I came to do.

I will not do this deed.  The Ring is mine!"

And suddenly, as he set it on his finger, he vanished from Sam's sight.

 

It's a complete disaster.  Frodo claims the Ring, and we are told Sauron becomes aware of Frodo's presence, and the Nazgûl begin a "last desperate race" to retrieve the Ring.  Sam is stunned by this turn of events, and then knocked on the head by a rock.

 

Gollum has returned.

 

When Sam comes to, he sees Gollum floating in the air near the edge of the precipice, swaying this way and that.  Then he hears a loud crack, and Frodo reappears and falls to the ground.  Gollum lands on his feet and holds the Ring (still on Frodo's finger) and celebrates his victory.

And with that, even as his eyes were lifted up to gloat on his prize,

he stepped too far, toppled, wavered for a moment on the brink, and then

with a shriek he fell.  Out of the depths came his last wail "Precious," and he was gone.

The Ring is destroyed.  The struggle is over.  Sauron is defeated.

But let's look closely at how?  The Creative Wizard's own word for this type of event is a eucatastrophe.  What is a eucatastrophe?  The easiest way to understand it is to look at stress and eustress.  Eustress is the type of stress that motivates you, not overwhelms you.  Linguistically "Eu," Is a prefix meaning "good."

A catastrophe is an event wherein everything goes wrong.  Suddenly and terribly.  Suddenly is the key phrase here.  A eucatastrophe is where everything is going wrong, but suddenly there is such a reversal of fortune that, in fact, things turn out alright.  "It is always darkest before the dawn," is the (non-sensical) phrase that comes to mind (Note:  The discussion within that link is fantastically (and unnecessarily) detailed.  Enjoy at your own risk).

Pippin is being crushed by a troll.  Gandalf, Aragorn and the others have been led to believe Frodo is dead.  Frodo claims the Ring.  Sauron is coming to take back what is his.  Sam has been knocked to the ground.  Gollum attacks Frodo and takes the Ring.  How could things get worse?  Sauron's victory is nearly assured.

And then Gollum, lost in his celebration, accidentally falls off into the lava.  No one pushes him.  Gollum just falls.  No one could have seen it coming.  It's arguably not a very good plot device.  It isn't as if, to this point, we have seen other moments of Gollum's missteps.  In fact, he is has been shown to be very good at climbing.  Gollum, out of the blue, missteps and falls in.  The end.

Miraculous is a word that comes to mind.  Unbelievable, too.  For 10 months now we have read this text, following its plot carefully, which the Creative Wizard details greatly.  And now, at the climax, our heroes succeed due to a completely unpredictable turn of events, almost in spite of their own failures?  What’s the lesson here?

I think there are two.  First, hearkening to last week, the Ring plans and plots just as the free peoples do.  Every time Gandalf plans, the Ring has a chance to counter.  The Ring can twist those plans to its own will.  The Ring, we could choose to believe, bided its time while Frodo bore it, only to overwhelm his will in the heart of Mordor.  Otherwise, Frodo could have taken the Ring deep underground as Gollum has.  But by waiting until it was inside Mordor, the Ring could be assured Sauron would retrieve it.  Whether Gollum or Frodo left Mount Doom with the Ring, Sauron was going to get it from them.

But no one could have predicted Gollum’s fall.  It isn’t an event that could be planned for, and so there is no plan to twist.  Just as the oppressed must ensure their defiance doesn’t feed into a cycle of oppression, so only an accident can ensure the Ring’s destruction.

Widening our scope from the content of our text to the mind of our author (because within the context of the story it certainly seems too convenient to be believable) what was he thinking?  Having survived World War I, only to see World War II erupt mere decades after, we can understand Tolkien’s concern of a cycle of violence.  And if war is the true villain, and if war requires planning, then the only way to avoid war is by an act that cannot be planned.  But that doesn’t make for great stories.  We can imagine, in years after, when this tale becomes a common story among the people of Middle Earth, that this version will be lost in favor of a more dramatic version.  Frodo pushed Gollum, or the Nazgûl appeared in the cavern entrance, and Gollum panicked and fell in.  But sometimes things just... happen.

We all have experience with eucatastrophes, to one degree or another.  Everything goes wrong and seems to get worse and worse and worse but then, suddenly, everything gets better.  And because it is our life, we don’t do a good job of asking “why?”  We’re too relieved to wonder.  And if someone were to ask what happened, we’d either admit we don’t know, or we’d try to come up with a rationalization.  Neither makes more sense than the other.  There’s no good reason for Gollum to fall, and trying to invent one would be futile.  But it happened.  And maybe in our lives, looking for a reason why our fortune suddenly turned is futile.

We may never understand why the Creative Wizard decided to have the Ring come to such an anti-climactic end.  There are many good reasons we can come up with, but those say more about ourselves than the text.  That’s the beauty of this kind of text study.  We take a text, try to understand its original purpose, and then ultimately walk away with a lesson that is unique to us.

How to be a good ally

This week (Ahem, Aug 3rd) we read "The Land of Shadow."  Frodo and Sam continue their desperate journey towards Mount Doom.  Sam, for so long the soft one, has to bear the brunt of the burden.  Frodo can hardly go on.

When Sam rescues Frodo from captivity, he offers Frodo his things back.  Frodo refuses them all, except of course the Ring.  Of Sting, the Elvish blade, Frodo says, "Sting I give to you... I do not think it will be my part to strike any blow again."

What does Frodo mean?  His journey is not done, the Quest is not complete.  Frodo, if anyone, should be prepared for a fight!  He's the one with the Ring!!

But Frodo is exhausted.  Frodo has no energy to fight.  And moreover, Frodo is beginning to understand that fighting, the very act of struggling, is a losing gambit.  In order to achieve victory, Frodo has to trust in calm and peace.  The Ring wants struggle, it wants anger, it wants resentment.  Frodo realizes the only way to win is to give it none.  Otherwise, he may become the monster he is trying to save the world from.

Here's another pop culture example of a character realizing that fighting, even fighting evil, is part of the problem.  In order to defeat evil, it must be engaged with love, compassion, and passivity.  Fighting is exactly what evil wants. (The whole scene is great, but 4:35 is the moment I am talking about)

We've discussed before how war may, in fact, be the real villain of our text.  War must be, but conflict cannot be truly ended by war.  Beating an enemy into submission will cause resentment.  The enemy must be engaged and loved and respected.  Otherwise, they will only become a defeated enemy, rather than becoming a friend.  The Ring will twist any desire for glory Frodo has to its own will.  Only by removing himself from any potential conflict can Frodo hope to overpower it.  The Ring needs a will to twist.  Frodo will not give it one.

Fighting is our natural instinct.  Well, fight or flight.  Those are seen as two options with no grey area.  You stand your ground, or you run away.  But what if we could embrace.  Tell the troubled and angry people of the world that we are here to listen to them, and to try to understand them.  What would happen if we tried that?

That's very high minded and idealistic.  I'm not in the habit of giving unrealistic idealism.  Advice is useless if it isn't practical.  So what's the lesson here?

We are not all Frodo.  Sometimes we are, but sometimes we are Sam.  Frodo has a struggle, he has a Burden.  Sam does not.  Sam is his companion and his friend.  Frodo is not telling Sam not to fight - he is saying it is not his part to fight.  But it may be Sam's.

When one is downtrodden and the disenfranchised and oppressed, they can become exhausted.  Exhausted of their position and exhausted of their struggle.  That is what Frodo's experiencing.  He is done fighting, he realizes resisting only worsens the problem.  He just wants to be finished.  Sam, meanwhile, is privileged.

Here's a potentially useful, if very verbose, definition of privilege (Source):  Privilege is an unearned advantage that systematically empowers certain groups or individuals and not others.  Those who have privilege are often oblivious that these advantages are not universal.  

The events in Ferguson, MO are disgusting and reprehensible and not something I can even begin to cover in this blog (Though Cracked.com has done a fantastic job of it, even among a plethora of fart videos).  Part of me wishes I could go down there and assemble - show my solidarity with them physically and not just through hashtags.  I marched in LA when George Zimmerman was acquitted, and that was an incredible experience.  But Missouri is so far away, and in any event I'm moving and don't have the money or time to do that.

That's my privilege.  Because a(nother) black youth can be shot, and I am in a position that allows me to say "Well, I could do something, but I don't have to."  Another definition of privilege?  "Being able to ignore a problem."  I could do nothing, and my life would be fine (Except for obvious moral decay).  In fact, except sharing the information I know, I am doing nothing.

Let's broaden this discussion.  The more the oppressed struggle and fight back and argue, the more it seems they should be oppressed.  Look at how damn feisty they are!  It plays into the circle of oppression.  It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.  That's partly why Martin Luther King & Ghandi were so effective - peaceful protests break that cycle.  That's the only way to win.

Or to have allies.  Frodo is asking Sam to be an ally.  Frodo cannot fight, it will not end well for him.  But he knows he needs to fight.  Enemies are out there.  Frodo is asking Sam to fight on his behalf.  He is asking Sam to do what he physically cannot do, and what he spiritually should not do.  If Sam fights for Frodo, it will inspire Frodo to hold his course, and cause his enemies to pause, seeing he is not alone.  That's the idea, at least.

Generally, we see slacktivism as a huge social woe.  I agree, clicking and sharing and hashtagging doesn't change anything.  However, it does help begin to send a message.  A message to the oppressed that they are not alone, and a message to the oppressor that we will not stand silent.  But it is the beginning of the message.  It must be followed up with action.  Frodo giving Sting to Sam becomes a pointless part of the text if Sam refuses to fight.  "Why would Sam refuse to fight?  That would make him a poor friend."  Yes, it would.  And us reposting about Ferguson but not following up with action makes us poor allies.  I marched in LA, yes, but then I returned to school the next day.  I didn't follow up.

I have no idea how to address this problem.  The reason we don't follow up isn't because we don't want to, but because we feel that we can't.  I don't know what's different between now and the 60's, when thousands of citizens in the north went to the south to protest segregation.  They had jobs then, too.  Were they less afraid to lose them?  Were their employers more willing to give them the time for such a noble cause?  I don't know.

It isn't enough to look at the oppressed and say the burden is on them to overcome their situation.  That's privilege in its grossest form.  Sometimes, struggling will make their situation worse.  We, when we are outside the situation, must recognize that they need our help, and we must do what we can.  They don't need our help because they are weak or lesser or because we are stronger.  They need our help because obviously the oppressed will struggle.  But an outside voice has moral authority.  An outsider can say "This does not affect me, and in fact I might benefit from it.  But it is wrong, and I refuse to allow it to continue."

Imagine you are oppressed (whether by a government or a social group or your job or your significant other or depression, etc).  Imagine everyone walking by you, not even noticing your oppression, because they are busy with their lives.  Day after day you are ignored and though you struggle, it is exhausting and it doesn't even help.  How do you feel about those people walking by?

Then imagine someone steps out of the millions of faceless people who have walked by and says "This is not right!  We must stop walking by.  We need to help this person."

That is why we, the privileged, must stand up.  Because otherwise, the oppressed will feel alone, and resent our inaction

Meanwhile, I will continue to repost stories about this and other situations, all the while staying at home packing all of my things.  Do as I say, not as I do, I guess.

Life without checkpoints or: How I learned to stop worrying and celebrate the work.

This week (Well, originally the week of July 27th) we leave the battle in front of Mordor and return to Frodo and Sam.  Our chapter is "The Tower of Cirith Ungol," which is where Frodo was taken when he was captured.  Sam is looking for him.  But let's back up a moment.

The previous chapter ends on an unclear note.  Pippin has stabbed a troll, but it fall on top of him and begins to crush him.  Pippin thinks, "So it ends as I guessed it would," and we are told his thought begins to fly away.  However, it hears one final thing, shouts that "The Eagles are Coming!"  The chapter ends.  What eagles?  And what of Pippin?  What of the others?  Is this, indeed, how it ends?

At the start of the chapter, the Creative Wizard makes the timeline clear: we are now going to learn what happened to Frodo and Sam even before the Battle of the Pellenor Fields.  We know what hopelessness their companions will face.  Will what Frodo and Sam do make a difference to their fate?

Sam still has the Ring.  From what we learned from the Mouth of Sauron in the previous chapter, it is possible that Frodo is dead, and that Sam will die.  As Sam searches for Frodo, a bleak picture is painted.  Mordor was built up as a terrible and dreadful place, and Sam's experience aligns very much with that foreshadowing.  He begins to find the awful nature of the tower too much to handle.

The dead bodies: the emptiness; the dank black walls that in the torchlight

seemed to drop with blood; the fear of sudden death lurking in doorway

or shadow; and behind all his mind the waiting watchful maline at the gate: it was almost

more than he could screw himself to face.  He would have welcomes a fight - with

not too many enemies at a time - rather than this hideous brooding uncertainty.

But that's silly - we know Sam isn't much of a fighter.  He can when he must, but even then in terror.  So why does our cowardly Sam want a fight?

Fighting is quick.  In fighting you win, or you die.  And dying is easy.  It doesn't require much effort.  By spoiling for a fight, Sam is asking for his struggle to be over.  Either he is victorious, or he dies.  Either outcome is preferable to a long slog.

We see this in our own lives.  We want tangible advancement, or a clear sign of our failure.  But the in-between is frustrating.  It's difficult to measure, and do we ever love our measurements!

We measure temperature, we measure wind speed, we measure intelligence, we measure grades, we measure luminosity, we measure sharpness, we measure opacity, we measure success, we measure how we measure.  Seasons of Love, a song ostensibly about the ridiculousness of measurements, suggests measuring a year in love.  That's fine, but why measure at all?  What if we could endure without measurements, or at least without such constant measurements.

One of my favorite things about summer camps is that, unlike school, measurements are few.  The goal of most camps is adventure, relaxation, joy, fun, and friendship.  These things are difficult to measure.  Contrast this with teaching, my year-round job (And the year-round experience of campers), and measurements abound.  Not only do teachers measure student success, we measure our assessment tools to ensure they are doing what we want, and sometimes we assess those tools.  It's an ever-widening circle.  And while one answer is, "But if you're going to measure things, you should measure them well," we rarely wonder why measure so much at all.

More than not, life is not a series of fights, not a set of checkpoints to pass.  It looks that way in retrospect because that's the easiest way for us to digest an entire lifespan, to look at the major markers, but life is generally more of a slog.  We move forward with little understanding that we are moving forward, we succeed without feeling success, because in our mind success comes with balloons and trumpets and cake, even when it generally doesn't.  One frustration I felt over the summer was that I wasn't getting enough positive feedback for doing my job well.  But why do I need that?  I was doing my job well and being given guidance when I was screwing up.  I should be able to have, recognize, and enjoy success without a party thrown in my honor.

When one completes a project, the completion is seen as the success.  But the work should be, too.  Did it take 30 days to complete?  Then each day, or at least most days, was a success.  Saying that only completing the project was a success devalues all that work.  Hard work isn't necessary for success, hard work is success.

Sam wants a sign, he wants something tangible that he can hold up and say "Ah!  I've made it!"  He wants to battle orcs, kill them, and know he is victorious.  But he doesn't get that.  He's forced to slog through the brooding uncertainty.  But he remains unaware that he is, in fact, getting closer to Frodo.

Only when Sam has found his master does he celebrate.  But this is not his only success: He snuck around Cirith Ungol without getting caught, he followed the voices of orcs he heard, and earlier he had defeated Shelob.  But he will not realize those successes.  He only sees the token of success - a reunion.  It's tunnel vision.

If you go through life looking for tokens, tangible signs of your success, you will find yourself often disappointed.  There are few moments when we can showcase our worth, and fewer when others will just tell us.  Positive reinforcement is wonderful, but we shouldn't depend on it.

I think the hardest thing to learn graduating college is that, now, you're expected to work and do your job but not get "measured."  Well, you get paid - that's your measurement.  Every 2 weeks you get a token of your success.  Money.  But money is a funny thing.  Our culture loves and loathes it.  We see it as a phony measure of our worth, but it's the main measure we have.

School gives you constant measurement, and many forms of it.  Society after school gives you one measurement: your salary.  That's it.  That's how you know your importance.  And that generally drives people to misery.  They want another measurement (Hence: Seasons of Love).

But why measure at all?  Why stay in that mind-frame, where measurements are paramount?  What if we could transcend them.  Rather than look for constant tokens of success to keep us going, why not acknowledge they just won't come, or at least not regularly.  Instead we can move forward with a few goals in mind, a few objectives to complete to reach those goals, and then slog through whatever mire comes, knowing, through our focus and determination, that we're headed in the right direction, even if sometimes it feels futile.

Most goals take longer to reach than we would like.  Don't go looking for a fight because you're tired of the wait.  Don't let your impatience to be done ruin the long, slow work you've been doing.  Rather than despair each day that you still aren't done, celebrate each day you get closer to your goal.

The Power of Touch

(ANNNNND we’re back.  Quick point of information:  I’ll be doing several blogs per week until I’ve caught up to schedule.  So there’s that.)

This week’s (Well, the week of July 20th)'s chapter is called “The Black Gate Opens.”  In it, Aragorn and Gandalf lead the forces of Minas Tirith to Mordor for the purpose of distracting Sauron.  Most of the city’s forces leave, except for Eowyn, Faramir, and Merry.  Eowyn has to stay behind because she’s still bed-ridden.  Faramir also remains, though the chapter doesn’t explicitly say why (He had been healed several chapters earlier by Aragorn.  It is likely he remains because he is the Steward of the Gondor, and should remain with the people).  Merry is up and feels able, but Aragorn tells him, “You are not fit for such a journey.  But do not be ashamed.  If you do no more in this war you have already earned great honour [by defeating the Witch King].  Peregrin shall represent the Shirefolk.”

The army leaves, and Merry watches it with Bergil, whom Pippin introduced to him.

The last glint of the morning sun on spear and helm twinkle
and was lost, and still he remained with bowed head and heavy heart,
feeling friendless and alone.  Everyone that he cared for had gone away into the gloom…

As if recalled by his mood of despair, the pain in his arm returned, and he felt
weak and old, and the sunlight seemed thin.  He was roused by the touch of Bergil’s hand.

Merry’s deep misery is assuaged, if momentarily, by touch.  Touch is a powerful tool.  It can be used to hurt or help.  Sometimes being welcomed by a hug will ensure the welcome is felt.  But sometimes even being brushed up against is enough to make one feel unsafe.  It’s difficult to say, as a generality, what kind of touch is good and what kind of touch is bad.  With the exception of the extremes, it’s mostly about one’s personal preference.

But touch, when used correctly, can dramatically increase one’s health.  Touch is an important way to express and receive affection, which increases our overall sense of security and decreases our feeling of being alone.  Touch can also be a way to express what words cannot.  (That link is on the extreme side, but even that extreme is an important and unfortunately pervasive one)

For myself, I am alright with people touching me.  I like hugs, I like high fives, I like a pat on the back.  They make me feel good.  Now that camp is wrapping up, I need to start to mentally preparing myself for a big decrease in the amount of casual physical contact I will be experiencing.  It’s a big drop.  The culture of the “real world” is that touch is something reserved for special occasions.  Especially for men, casual touching is frowned upon (There was some article I read about this in June, but try typing “men need casual touching” into Google and see what you get.  Actually, don’t bother).  However casual touching has fantastic benefits for one’s emotional well-being.  Then again, if men aren’t supposed to show emotions, we can understand why they should be able to endure without casual touching.

In any event, that lack of contact is hard for me to get used to after a summer at camp.  If touching has all of these very realbenefits, those are benefits I have to suddenly do without.  There are some men whom, due to societal pressures, do not regularly experience them at all!  And how much worse for a sexual assault victim (of either sex) for whom almost any kind of touching reminds them of their trauma?

The good news is, most people know what kind of touch they want and when they want it.  Many people will bear a conversation they don’t like, or eat food they’d rather not, or smile when they don’t really feel happy.  Polite society, for better or worse, demands those things.  But people tend to be vocal about their physical boundaries.  If they are crossed, we should respect their protests.  Ideally, however, we ask ahead of time what they like and when.  Everyone has the right to be comfortable in their body and their space, and we should work to ensure those around us feel that way.

Don’t think of this as asking for limits.  If you’re having this kind of conversation with someone, it is likely you are their friend.  And we want our friends to be happy and secure.  Asking allows us to ensure that, when we touch them, we are doing it in a positive and acceptable way for them.

If their answer disappoints you, own that disappointment.  Maybe you had a crush on them and are disappointed they don’t like an arm around them, or a (what you mean as) friendly touch on the arm.  That’s fine to be disappointed, but don’t blame them.  They don’t have an obligation to enjoy what you do.  If you really like them and want to get to know them, you need to be prepared to cater to their needs.  Relationships are all about compromise, so I’ve heard.  No one wants to date a dictator.

If you get to know a person’s needs, and you get to know how a person likes to be touched, it opens vast levels of communication.  Words are powerful tools of communication, but sometimes we need to transcend their limits.  What could Bergil have said that would have stirred Merry from his grief?  Reread that quote - Merry is spiraling from despair to despondency.  His emotional burden is beginning to affect him physically.  But a simple touch of the hand “roused” him, and reminded him that he was not alone, and that the world endured, and he had people who could support him.  He could have sadness inside him without being overwhelmed by it.

Touch is an incredible thing.  We should use it wisely.