Paige Bier_29 Oct._Natural Setting II: Lion's Gate Bridge

On October 28, we visited the Lion's Gate Bridge to observe the way statues and wildlife communicate with us. We first visited the statue of Anna Huntington "Conquering the Wild" to analyze how a simple statue is communicating a deeper meaning. There were four men surrounded the man in the middle trying to tame the horse. If you tame or conquer the spirit of the wild horse, the spirit is no longer wild to the horse, but belongs with you. This relates directly to Buber's passage about the relationship with a horse to demonstrate the relationship between I-Thou:
           "And felt the life beneath my hand, it was as though the element of vitality itself bordered on my skin, something that was not I"//"Placed itself in the relationship with though and me"// I do not know what came over the child but it was childlike enough, it stroke me, what fun it gave me"

Buber admits the fun in stroking the horse to demonstrate how his gaze turns back to focus on himself. The horse as the "other" is now in him and not in the horse; therefore, the horse becomes an object instead of a subject. He admits, "suddenly I become conscious of my hand". This reflects directly in Lane's book when he says, "recognizing the reciprocity involved in touching and being touched by its particular array of rocks, trees, animals, and geographical features" (p. 44). After analyzing this one statue and relating it back to the relationship of the I with experience versus encounter, I want to discuss the way wildlife and nature communicate with us.

We spent our time walking on the Noland trail and over-looking the river. I enjoyed the over-look of the river the most: "Her main vocation at Tinker Creek's pilgrim-in-residence is simply learning to look well at the creek" says John Gatta in Making Nature Sacred. Personally, I love to connect with nature through sound-- birds chirping, branches breaking, waves crashing, etc. To hear the waves interacting with the rocks as some fell roughly and others swiftly, is very relaxing. Gatta says we must simply learn to "look well at the creek", I find this significant because communicating with nature takes patience. We can't just ask it a question and get an immediate response, we must require "patience, preparation, stillness, a spirit of humility and expectancy" (Gatt, p. 210). If we entail these qualities while interacting with nature, we will be able to see the deeper meaning behind its appearance. Since appearance is often a huge indicator of identity, we must be patient to find its significance. To communicate with the river, I sat on the sand, allowing only the rocks to be a barrier between myself and the sweet salt-water.

I sat by the water and closed my eyes for a few minutes, listening to nothing but the way the water met the rocks. It was as though I picked up a sea-shell from the beach and held it close my ear, envisioning the way the ocean never stops. The river was almost ombre as it faded from its white foam to its seaweed green to its ocean blue. Some parts were musty and brown, telling me that we need to take better care of the water around us. There were a few floating cups that drifted by, showing me that we should be more careful to put our trash away next time. The river told me that most of its waves were strong and fierce, but some of them lacked in character due to the contamination of its peers. I looked down at the sand, where my toes were tucked in, surrounded by seaweed and a few sticks. The seaweed was washed up and in-fact delivered by the river. Some sea-weed would get swept back up and taken out by the waves, when others were meant to stay with the sand. The river showed its power in the way it picked up seaweed and sticks to carry them back out together. The river showed its unity with the land, thankful to have something to sweep upon. The river showed me that its waves don't always crash at the same pace, nor in the same place. Some landed upon rocks- hard and loud; while others swept across the sand- soft and slow. The river showed me its variety and the way some waves speak louder than others. The river reminded me how my worries were so small. If they were so important, how could I be able to focus on the sweet sound of the river? The sound of the waves seemed to sweep all of my worries and all of my stress out from under my feet, washing them away into the river with the rest of the seaweed.