Journal #7: The Miraculous

Today, class met on the grass in front of Jarvis Hall. This setting was different than some of our others, as we were essentially right in the middle of campus. As a result, I noticed a variety of distractions—the maintenance crew chain sawing branches, diesel trucks with music playing, and eager dogs restrained on leashes. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful day. The temperature was refreshing—much cooler than previous classes. The sun was radiant and there was a light breeze. As we were discussing, I couldn’t help but notice this large, old tree. What really stood out to me about this tree was the trunk. It had a beautiful pattern and texture—almost an ombre type of effect. The base was covered in a dark, brown bark that was thick and had deep ridges. The further up the tree, the lighter and less dense the bark became. Until about the top third of the trunk, which was white with no raised bark. I could tell from the size and expansiveness of the tree that it was quite old. It had large limbs that stretched far out and provided a nice canopy of shade to anyone who wandered below. A peaceful setting.

My group was responsible for leading today’s class discussion. The specific piece I was presenting was Loren Eiseley’s The Judgment of the Birds. I enjoyed this writing and thought the message it portrayed was powerful. Eiseley encourages everyone to see the miraculous and find it in everything. Everything is miraculous. Life is miraculous. Trees are miraculous. Sunshine is miraculous. Rainstorms are miraculous. I thought this was especially insightful. I get caught in a routine and everything becomes so commonplace, that unless I made the conscious effort to step outside my viewpoint and view things from an objective point of view, I will not see everything that is miraculous. I find myself often getting caught up in the fast-paced environment of today’s world, that I often miss what is miraculous. I liked Dr. Williams example of one single blade of grass being miraculous. I had never thought of grass as having any significant value, but when I stop and reflect, grass is pretty miraculous. I couldn’t help but think of a small ant for whom that blade of grass would be the key to their survival. We are a part of nature and nature is a part of us in an intertwined process—the border of the two worlds. Eiseley encourages his readers to see thing from an inverted angle. I interpreted this as we need to change our negative perceptions to see things from a different angle. We must convince ourselves that each difficulty we might experience can be an opportunity of learning and growth.

I enjoyed Eiseley’s writing techniques, specifically his tone of wonder, of mystery, and of awe. I felt that I became a participant in his stories—leaning out of windows, standing on a ladder watching spiders, or following him in the Badlands. One of my favorite scenes was when Eiseley was in the Badlands and describes the odd chemicals. His descriptions were vivid, and I thought it was an interesting perspective on the connection between life and death. When Eiseley is standing alone on the plains, he realizes that all of the elements which lie dead beneath him once contained life. Carbon, phosphorus, and calcium are still alive in the birds, which means that life and death are made up of the same things. Eiseley had only been thinking of death as he stood with the fistful of the elements from the wasteland. It can be hard to think of life and death as being so similar. Death seems so tragic, whereas life can offer joy and happiness.

I think this statement came at an especially difficult time. In the wake of the shooting in Las Vegas, a time of such national heartbreak and anger from tragedy, it can be difficult to see death and life as the same. We wonder why people have to die and why others get to live. We don’t see life and death as the same. I don’t think that Eiseley was trying to portray that life and death are equal, I think he was simply drawing similarities. Nevertheless, my mind is still reminded of the recent tragedy and heartbreak. Can death be miraculous?