Risking

Destiny is a concept coined and embraced by the mediocre. Greatness is not reached as a dash on a timeline but achieved through personal struggle and the great art of risk taking. Risk is an essential component in progress. At a point in the existence of every great thinker, innovator, creator, or just plain successful person there was that frightening walk down a plank with nothing but a boat of angry pirates to turn back to and a head full of hopes about the depths into which they are about to plunge. It is a courageous act to step away from the comfortable, from the safe and make an economic, social or emotional gamble when the odds of failure often outweigh the chance for success.

A risk is a daring adventure that can produce great rewards. A part of the true value of the risk, however, lies not in it's rewards but simply in it's taking. Risking is a pure act of humanity and is the ultimate step of commitment towards a goal. With that initial risk taken, with no escape from the consequences of that risk, positive or negative, the spirit is in a state of fulfillment. It no longer drifts about the realm of the safe and mundane, but takes flight in the skies of unrestraint. The sense of freedom that one experiences when no longer earth bound by their doubts and precautions renders connects them to their spirit in a manner that no other feeling can produce.

The art of risk taking is calculated and refined, but through it’s process of weighing and considering the odds, is whimsical and beautiful. Men and women take risks on the things they feel most passionate about, when their desire overpowers their fear of failure. The true risk taker is not the over privileged teen deciding to steal his parents car. No, the men and women who stake something dear to them, something that could damage their lives if lost, in order to reach a goal that is desperately desired or necessary, with the purest of intentions are the embodiment of the phrase risk taker. Risk taking does not ascend to a person at birth, but comes about through years of confidence building and extreme desire. The intentions of a person who is willing to risk in order to fulfill these intentions rank among the most noble on earth. A goal that leaves a man or woman willing to risk everything is truly life, or even society altering when reached.

What were once risks have now become some of the greatest attributes in my life. As a fourteen year old I struck out to Reno, Nevada on a Greyhound bus to enroll in an intensive wrestling camp. The schedule of the camp frightened me more then the lonesome, intimidating bus ride, requiring rigorous workout routines of video game softened adolescents. From that two week stay amidst some of the strangest mid-westerners imaginable I gained invaluable experience in the ways of coping with those who would not budge from their conservative opinions, as well as a greater appreciation for my own, more accepting background. The camp also heightened my abilities in wrestling, a sport that instills in me great joy, and that I will take great risks to excel in. Risks that I have taken to turn away from harmful activities that I once partook in have made me a stronger, and more focused person. With the most trying period of my life looming just months away, I realize that risks will again become necessary. These risks will be taken with full confidence, because I cannot rest while my spirit wanders the forest of indecisive safety.

The Greek roots of the word risk embody its meaning. In Greek the word means cliff, and that is precisely what a risk is according to novelist Ray Bradbury, who states "Living at risk is jumping off the cliff and building your wings on the way down." Often when a risk is taken, the outcome isn’t clear and failure is impending. This uncertainty ultimately fades and a better understanding of oneself and a feeling of confidence and fulfillment is reached. While everyone may not be able to make that leap, the few that do enjoy fulfillment regardless, for one is far better off at the bottom of the mountain, preparing to scale it in order to attempt a second leap then still at the top peering over the edge. Failure is often preferable to an unscathed wondering about what could have happened without the fear to risk.

Waiting...

by Kenny Campbell

"The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it."

~ Arnold H. Glasgow

Another cold, crisp, and callous morning rolls around in January and I look out of my wide window to find a bare, pathetic mention of a tree obstructing my towering view of the quiet and lifeless street on which I live. This tree, I think to myself, must sincerely long for spring. Alas, it stands still in the fog all the same; it cannot pick up its roots like a dress and drag the extended framework to a more temperate setting. It must endure. I pity the plant for a minute, and then, shaking my head of these strange thoughts, I step downstairs inaudibly, so as not to wake the others at such an early hour. I push in a red button on my remote, and become irritated that it takes a whole five seconds for the television to show me the picture that I expected. A weather channel shows a forecast for that day and it is currently a bone-chilling thirty-six degrees outside. Suddenly, I realize this is true as the shiver reaches my skin and I blow on my thumbs to keep warm, hoping that maybe I can change the season if I dream long and hard enough. But changing this cold reality is impossible.

And what an idea of waiting—to wait is a unique action in which, ironically, one must do nothing to achieve. “Praestolar,” the Latin word for waiting, originally had a limitation: the action was with much expectation of things in the near future that were to be better than they were currently. In many ways, waiting implies some degree of undesirable delay, sacrifice and perhaps suffering, all endured for the fleeting hope of a better tomorrow. My discipline wanes.

As I wait, I can reclaim those things that have previously brought beauty to my awareness. This truth I discovered on that one day last year; as a result, I now enjoy the cold of winter and all of its unique majesty and marvel. It is here but for a short season, and to miss it would be an injustice. I dress myself minimally so as to endure the elements and thereby more fully appreciate the starkness of winter – to feel the sense of chill and the cutting winds. I want to feel the season and live it, not mock and dismiss it.

Yet my mind and ambitions wander. Would it not be sublime to have my driver’s license and enjoy the greater mobility and freedom brought by the internal combustion engine? Couldn’t high school end sooner, allowing for a college experience that would open new thinking and new worlds? What about being older, to enjoy the rite of passage and the resulting liberties, leading to a more full life with endless possibilities? Yet these things that I yearn for are not as liberating as they seem. To drive would surely bring suffering in the form of car payments, insurance, and gasoline, leading ultimately to the unthinkable – a job. I then remind myself of the simplistic virtues of my bicycle and public transit. I struggle with the many challenging classroom assignments, longing for the semester to draw to an end, but conceding that a subsequent semester may very well be equally or increasingly distasteful. A desire to be older demonstrates farce and tragedy; fully revealing my folly, and lack of contentment. This is likely the same folly that caused George Bernard Shaw to opine that “Youth is wasted on the young.” Perhaps I will come to my senses, or else later realize that life was easier, more enjoyable, and encompassed less responsibility during my youth – surely attributes which should not be squandered.

Yet I remain in a hurry – in a perpetual state of waiting avoidance. To many, fast food and the microwave oven are worth the sacrifice of proper taste, nutrition, and texture because of their simplicity and speed. We become numb to the revolting attributes of “food” prepared in this manner. I hope that instant gratification will not lead me astray, stripping me of all my desire for culinary propriety and leading me down the well-travelled road to obesity like so many of my compatriots. Am I doomed to become that which I despise – the shapeless sloth-like appearance of Americans, recognized and mocked around the planet? When realizing my liberty on the freeway, will I stoop to endure the incessant babble of a ride-sharing drone, all in the name of saving time by driving in the commuter lane? How many times have I actually enjoyed movies piped instantly into my home through Comcast “On Demand”? This drivel is somehow virtuous or entertaining at times, perhaps merely because it is fast.

I am reminded of the infamous Heaven’s Gate in 1997. Its highly charismatic leader claiming that a spaceship was stationed behind the Hale-Bopp comet, seeking the opportune time to take his followers to heaven, instead led them to their deaths: they took phenobarbital tablets, washed it down with vodka, and placed plastic bags over their heads. Curiously, the mother ship never arrived. Am I destined to a similar fate as that of these cultists? Will I lack contentment to such a degree that I would be willing to place my faith in a dubious cultist who promises a better life – instantaneously? Or can I wait to enjoy all that life has made available to me, and at the same time find contentment in that which is here and now?

While We Wait
by Jack Johnson

It feels right
It feels wrong
It feels like when you have it, then it's gone
I want more
More and more
And if you steal the fire
Give me some
Cause the sun Disobeys while it waits for a friend to arrive from the past
What holds us around, and around
While we wait

Laughing

by Anisa

“HA!” A great gust of air explodes out of your mouth, sending rollicking peals of laughter echoing for miles around. The sound carries away with it your tension and worry, leaving behind relief and exhilaration. This basic human reaction is universal—people around the world may not be able to communicate through words, but they can connect in laughter. It stretches across cultures and languages, through oceans and borders, from days-old infants to the oldest person alive. Derived from the Middle English laughen, from the Old English hlæhhan, believed to come from the sound of laughter itself, a laugh is one of the most primitive expressions of emotion. It is automatic, it comes out without our consent, and it is insuppressible.

People laugh for a multitude of reasons; for humor, anger, nervousness, fear, embarrassment, or tragedy. We laugh when we hear a joke, when we see someone else fall, when we have no other reaction in us.

When we are anxious, a fit of laughter can alleviate our stress; when we are sad and vulnerable, a few good chuckles can brighten us up; and when we are simply in the course of our everyday lives, a round of booming “HA-HA”s, or even a few short giggles, can add just what we need to keep going.

In a world where there is often too much stress, a laugh is more important than ever. It’s a simple action, really. All you need is yourself and the air around you. You gulp in a lot of air, very quickly, preferably through your mouth, filling up your lungs and expanding your chest, and then you simply let it all back out, forcefully and in short bursts, with sound effects.

This is part of the reason why it is so good for you: it forces you to breathe deeply, and often. It increases the heart rate and stimulates circulation. It increases the production of feel-good endorphins in your brain, while also decreasing the production of stress hormones.

It helps so much that many hospitals offer Laugh Therapy to raise the quality of life for their patients, proving that laughter actually is the best medicine. The relieving effects of laughter have been known almost as long as laughter has been around. It is mentioned in proverbs in the Bible, and was already being used in medical situations as early as the thirteenth century.

Almost 150 years ago, Abraham Lincoln said, “With the fearful strain that is on me night and day, if I did not laugh I should die.”

I have often felt the relieving benefits of laughter myself. I remember distinctly a time, a few months ago, when I had not laughed for days. It was a horrible week; it was journalism deadline, I had a math, chemistry, and APUSH test, I had two jobs, piano, and AcDec to make time for, and I was just barely keeping up. I was cooped up inside almost all day, every day, and I barely saw my friends outside of class.

Then, while I was walking to yet another classroom, a friend said something funny – it wasn’t even that funny – and I laughed. I laughed so hard and so freely I could literally feel the tension coming out of my shoulders. I had no idea how tightly I had been holding myself, until that moment when it lifted and went away. Minutes later I was back in class and back in my hectic week, but my mood was substantially better. That less-than-a-minute of laughter gave my body what it had been craving for: release, oxygen, and a good, heavy heartbeat. It gave my mind what it had been craving for as well: peace, calmness, and sanity.

“The most wasted of all days is one without laugher.” – E.E. Cummings

Laughter is highly contagious. Just watching someone else laugh makes you feel like laughing yourself; it’s why we often laugh when in the company of others, or when watching other people, sometimes people we don’t even know, laugh.

Laughing is also highly individual. It is an expression of emotion that is unique to each of us. No two people experience the exact same emotions; no two people laugh exactly the same. Even the same person never laughs quite exactly the way they’ve ever laughed before; though it may sound similar, a new laugh is always just that – new. Technically speaking, each laugh is slightly different in the amount of breaths a person takes, in the exact pattern of sounds made, in the length of each sound or breath, in each little mechanical process. But more than that, each laugh differs in the exact emotion that it manifests at that unique moment.

My friends often tease me about my laughs; yes, laughs, plural. I have several distinctly different types of laughter, as I have been informed.
There is the seconds-long low chuckle.
There is the high, trilling giggle that bubbles up and rolls out from my throat for the mildly amusing.
There is the slightly louder, longer, squinted-eyes chortle that lasts half a minute or more when something is humorous.
And then, there is the way louder, way longer, wonderfully out-of-control, head-thrown-back, shoulder-shaking, body-quaking, crouched-over, grabbing-my-aching-stomach, mouth-stretched wide, falling-on-the-floor, tears-in-my-eyes, real LAUGH that lasts for minutes on end and occurs only when something is truly and outrageously hilarious.
People make fun of me for that. They say I laugh too hard, too loudly, too easily, or too long. But my only response is more laughter.

So there you go. Scientifically speaking, laughing is good. Laughing pumps your heart and invigorates your blood flow, expands your lungs and increases your oxygen intake, releases the feel-good chemicals in and tension out. But more than all of that, it keeps you sane. It keeps your stress levels manageable and your happiness high. It lets you relax, even when you’ve got a lot going on.

So, maybe you’ve got a million things to do today. Maybe you feel like all your work is crushing down on you. Maybe you have a ton of things to worry about. Maybe you just need a good laugh to put your mind at peace. So go ahead. Laugh. It’ll make you feel better – I promise.

“Laugh uncontrollably – it clears the mind.” – Dove chocolate wrapper

Consuming

By Rohan

Barrages of electronics, iPods, brand name clothing, and luxury cars dominate our lives; we, Americans, are innate consumers. The religion of consumerism exists as one of the most unquestioned forms faith there is. Blinded by the glistening façade of class and conformity, we consume with disregard to the environment, we consume with disregard to the workers, and most of all, we consume with disregard to ourselves.



“Who gets the risks? The risks are given to the consumer, the unsuspecting consumer and the poor work force. And who gets the benefits? The benefits are only for the corporations, for the money makers.” -Cesar Chavez

The foundation of the staggering fourteen trillion dollar American economy is us, the consumers; our fanatical desire for superfluous trinkets and toys not only drives this financial powerhouse, but also drives the corportocracy’s Lamborghini's and drives the eternal suppression of the populace through debt. The word consume comes from the Latin consumere meaning to eat or to waste, so aptly derived as we indeed waste our lives consuming. We consume beyond our means. According to the Federal Reserve, forty percent of all American families spend more than they earn—but why? We do not necessarily need a sixty inch Sony LCD television, or a thousand dollar Gucci handbag, or a life-sucking iPod, or a GPS navigated Mercedes-Benz, and yet we spend our whole lives working in an attempt to obtain these material goods. We are ingrained, entrenched, infatuated in consumerism. We live to consume. However, the consumption of goods brings forth a great plague, a rampant disease that is cauterizing the working people of America: debt.

“A man in debt is so far a slave.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Debt is viral. Whenever we swipe that credit card, sign that car loan, or take that mortgage, we are further sinking into the black abyss, the void of debt. This is America, and thus people believe we are truly free—but we are not. Who do you think owns that new iPod you just bought on your credit card? Who do you think owns your recently purchased car? Who do you think owns your house? The bank.

“The Bank, Mr. Van Buren, is trying to kill me, but I will kill it” -Andrew Jackson

The bank owns everything. Day by day, we are less ruled by a government, for the people by the people, and more ruled by a corportocracy, for the banks by the banks. The majority of American workers are modern wage slaves, enchained in a perpetual cycle of consuming, work, and debt. The concept of debt further establishes itself as profoundly disgusting notion when the aspect of interest is factored into the equation; the majority of Americans’ payments each month is interest on the loan itself. Our consumption of goods has invariably led to debt administered by our prized banking institutions. How interesting is it that our government has recently given these banks $700 billion of the taxpayers’ money. How interesting is it that our government allows Wall Street to keep their $5000 Armani suits while the average American remains incarcerated in the prison of debt on Main Street. We are a country so entrenched in debt that our national debt is rising to the amount of our epic GDP, and even more disturbingly, our money itself is created through debt.

The Federal Reserve created a publication entitled Modern Money Mechanics that reveals the appalling truth of our financial system, stating that the Federal Reserve will exchange US Dollars with government for a United States Treasury Bond, essentially meaning that the Federal Reserve lends US Dollars to the government at interest. This denotes that if the principal of all loans were to be paid off, not a single dollar would be left in circulation. But what about the interest? Unfortunately, the interest can never be accounted for, and like a jet out of fuel, as the interest inexorably spirals out of control, class divisions, poverty, and inflation occur as we witness in these trying times. This outline of the way our monetary institution functions is oversimplified, and there are countless other processes and ramifications to be considered. Nevertheless, our monetary institution is one of the most socially paralyzing structures humanity has ever endured.

The lofty, majestic columns willingly absorbed the sun’s rays as I walked past them. My parents and I ventured into the bank for a mortgage on our new home. Denizens of all ages, of all ethnicity, and of all class used this bank, whether it be a car loan or a mutual fund, the bank was always there to manipulate your money. First appearing friendly, the cunning bank representative in his mind-numbingly gray suit attempted to goad my parents into one of those interest-only mortgages. Firmly refusing, my parents entered a more common, yet also destructive, thirty year loan, in which the house would take thirty years to be paid off. At the time I did not really understand, nor frankly care what was going on. But I understand now. The overwhelming majority of Americans, like my parents, aspire to achieve the American Dream, to own a house in this “free” land. What the overwhelming majority of Americans, like my parents, did not realize is that the American Dream is simply a façade, and there is only the American Debt. The American Dream entrenches its followers in an inescapable pit of work, consumption, and debt. The American Dream is in fact a nightmare, as many Americans live in a perpetual cycle, from paycheck to paycheck, in an attempt to pay their mortgages and bills. The American Dream is an ingenious scheme developed by the banks to suppress the populace, the consumers, with debt.

“Rather go to bed with out dinner than to rise in debt.” -Benjamin Franklin

Driving

By Kaitlin
The act of driving is seen as an environment killing, polluting, money guzzling habit that we humans have fallen into. It is true that the gas aspect is a growing problem, but this mode of transportation has become a norm in the society we live in today. The thing that is not realized by many is that driving is not only a way to get from A to B, but also a way to get away from the stress and hectic nature of life and escape into your own safe haven.

"The car has become a secular sanctuary for the individual, his shrine to the self, his mobile Walden Pond." ~Edward McDonagh

So, is there in fact a beneficial component to driving other than speedy transportation?

I believe there is, but I also believe that too many people are too busy worrying about things that are out of their control instead of enjoying their surroundings. Most of us don’t take advantage of the joys of the journey because we are too focused on only the destination.

There is a relaxing sensation that fills you when, after a hectic day at school, filled with APUSH reading checks, English essays, and math tests you retreat to a place all your own. You get in and make yourself comfortable inside the oh-so-familiar driver’s seat and buckle yourself in. As you put the key in the ignition and hear the calming racket of the engine starting and you immediately feel better and more whole. It instantaneously makes the stress of an extensive morning melt away and creates a feeling of tranquility in even the most frazzled honors student’s day. Having the option to be immersed in silence, suffocated by the sound of your favorite band’s new album, or something in between is truly a blessing for someone at the peak of adulthood. An automobile, for a teenager, is a unique space that is comfortable, just spacious enough and a free area for a young adult you be alone or to invite others to share their space. It’s a brief period of independence during each day that keeps us sane and enables us to slowly ease into the self-dependent college world.

Control and independence are key ingredients in the recipe for a successful rise to adulthood. Teenagers today are much less self sufficient and constantly need assistance to get them through the day. This tiny amount of freedom allows us to gradually earn independence from our parental units and to gain self confidence along the way. This confidence fuels a more reliable and efficient generation and on and on this method continues. A car is not only a means of transportation between the start and finish of a journey, but also the transportation of an individual from an irresponsible child to a competent adult.

Relaxation may not be the first word that comes to your mind when you think about driving, but if you look past all of the traffic, road rage and blaring horns, it can be a very calming time of the day for any commuter. The simple action of gently pressing a pedal with your foot while simultaneously steering a wheel is much more simple than most of the other chores each one of us has to deal with throughout our day. Another way to increase the relaxation of an afternoon drive is to listen to music that genuinely makes you happy. Beatle’s songs always seem to have a tranquil sense to them that makes tasks like driving enjoyable and even something you can look forward too. With a comforting song playing on the stereo and a clear mind, driving is a very peaceful experience and can even become one of the most profound parts of your chaotic days.

Without the coasting feeling that driving gives us, we would be much more stressed (if you can imagine that) and we wouldn’t drive as often as we all do. There is a certain “off switch” that we are able to use when we drive a short distance across town because it is so familiar and we know it so well that we don’t need to use so much brain power to get us there. It aids us in the fight for out own sanity and in the fight for the little independence that us non-adults are allowed. It is a very modern answer to an age old question of travel, but it is so much more than that because it gives a chance to be ourselves in a portable “bubble” that is part of us and can be altered to meet our needs. When I have the Beatle’s lightly playing while I’m driving the familiar route home from school I experience a clarity that helps me escape from my scheduled life for the 5:27 that it takes to get home. This lucidity creates an excuse for me to drive and experience this lovely wholeness as much as possible throughout my crazy homework filled week.

Listening

by Erin

A baby whines and cries and screams as his mother tries to rock him back to a soothed state; the bass of the long-haired rocker harmonizes with the vocalist’s harsh cadenza of low and excruciating high notes; the silent night pairs with a cricket croaking in the garden and branches brushing against the window. These are a few simple pleasures that we love to indulge into, allowing our ear’s attention to linger on the sounds.

Hearing is a puzzle piece in our web of senses; but listening is a completely different game. Seeing is not enjoying a sunset, relaxing and paying attention to the beauty that our eyes allow us to see; that is watching. Touching is not wrapping ourselves in a soft blanket while petting the dog; that is feeling. Tasting is not eating a chocolate truffle, as we close our eyes and “mmm” and revel in the rich sweetness that floods around our tongue; that is savoring. What makes the simple senses of seeing, touching, and tasting different from watching, feeling, and savoring is that the senses are single acts of noticing something while the latter is appreciating what you observe. So when it comes to listening, just knowing that a sound is being produced will not suffice.

The pre-requisites for listening are patience and an open-mind. Without these, you are doing nothing more than hearing. In order to listen during a conversation, you must take in the words being said, apply meaning to the words and put them in context, comprehend them, analyze them, and form opinions to them. Only then are you prepared to respond once the other is finished. Without this process, a conversation is merely blabbing about unrelated subjects every time it switches speakers. Patience is needed to allow whatever you are listening to to come to a close. An open-mind is needed to stop your mind from wandering; once we listen to something that we have a preconceived opinion about, we automatically block out the sound and begin hearing instead of listening. Then, responding would be unjustified.

The word “listening” typically triggers one word in most minds: music. Music is the most acknowledged thing that we listen to. The melodious character of music is expressed in different genres. Different genres appeal to different people. The experience of listening to music is a harmonious blending of personal relatable experiences with the soul of the music. A slow song, full of snapping violins, a tinkling piano, a crescendoing guitar, and a deep raspy voice digs into the feeling of regret, passion, despair, and wanting. While we listen to music, we translate the beats and rhythms into emotions and sensations.

El Tango de Roxanne - Ewan McGregor/Jacek Koman/José Feliciano

The strongest memory I have of listening involved very little sound at all. I was awaiting a phone call that determined whether or not I would be cast in a stage production. Those 27 minutes sitting near the phone were spent in near silence. While anticipating the sharp repetitive chime of my telephone, I decided I had to have my mind wander away from the worried thoughts that were deluging my brain. Refusing to give up my post, I sat, listening to the everyday sounds that I never gave my attention to. I listened to my father typing confusing gibberish like codes onto his computer; I listened to my mothers stirring spoon kindly tap against the sides of the pot while swirling the pasta; I listened to my cat’s purr; I listened to my dogs snore; I listened to my computer’s hum; but most of all, I listened to the silence of the phone. Only then, after many minutes, the phone rang. I listened for a few seconds before answering. The piercing flickering high-pitched tone had a connotation of two strong emotions: relief and disappointment. As I picked up the receiver, pressed the glowing “ON” button, the ringing ceased, and a rather faint sound of congested breathing of the person on the line attracted my attention.

Luckily, the emotion that came with this phone call was relief.

Listening does not require a relationship with God, nor any other god or higher existence; it is a personal experience and needs no approval. Though “listening in” on a conversation may be forbidden, no one will arrest you for sitting silently, closing your eyes, and paying attention to the sounds of the zooming cars, the gentle laugh of the children playing in the park, the soft chatter of the mothers supervising nearby, the rolling of shopping carts with one wheel that always points left, the sharp barking conversation between neighborhood dogs, the dripping of the rain against your window, the rushing of the river’s water against protruding rocks, the rustling of the leaves on a wise and aged oak tree, or even the silent nothingness of a deserted park. All you need is an interest in a sound.

So the next time you walk down the street, do not just hear the bustling blossoming morning full of life; listen.

Sleeping

By Hannah

Comfort, warmth, and the act of being purely content. Everyday our bodies are constantly moving, out minds are endlessly racing, and we move though cycles of emotions, dilemmas, and daily routines. We, as civilized human beings, are powerhouse machines, always working and producing. Throughout the day we may only rest for scarce moments, but it is at night when our minds are set free as we lay peacefully in our sleep. Sleep is a key element to surviving. In our sleep, we restore our bodies, we begin to think more clearly, and we dream. It is said that to stay sharp, energized, and creative, a person must spend one third of their life sleeping. It is sleep that keeps us functional and (somewhat) sane. As we drift away from the problems of the world in this soothing state of mind, our brains keep ticking and our bodies become restored. Ancient Egyptians believed that in sleep, our souls are freed from the physical body and our spiritual double becomes disengaged from our everyday worries. There is nothing more rejuvenating than this sweet slumber which we so solemnly leave its curious nature unappreciated.

I remember a time and a feeling of being overwhelmed. I was truly exhausted from school, work, projects, and every other element that fulfilled my days. Staying up late finishing work and waking up early for another day of the same events was beginning to take it’s toll on my mind and body. Stress and anxiety seeped through my pores and my once calm, cool disposition was quickly vanishing. My health began failing and it felt as if my brain was working slower. There was no question to what my remedy was. I needed a good night’s sleep. As I rested my head on the soft comfy pillow a huge blanket of remorse that had been suffocating me with troubles was lifted from above me and I began to breathe again. Things that hadn’t stop spinning through my mind for days were halted and all worries began to fade. I slept over 24 hours that weekend. This demonstrated how badly I needed sleep. When I woke up for school that Monday, I was happier, I was not worried, and I had a feeling of readiness. Not sleeping for how much I should be and constantly working my brain abused my mind and soul. I restricted myself from my true potential just by not getting enough sleep. It is the simplest cure that anyone is capable of.






Sleeping allows our bodies to repair cells, cuts, bruises, and sore muscles. We are given time to interpret events that occurred throughout the day. Our bodies are restored and our minds sort out problems. Brain activity is sensational during sleep. We begin to think more clearly which assists us in solving problems. We also remember things in our sleep and sort new information into our memory banks. Creativity is also produced in our sleep as we think of new ideas. Hippocrates had a theory that we were capable of “judging the balance of the whole and to perceive in dreams the cause of illness” as we sleep. Sleep is not only a time for rest but a time to let our bodies heal and concoct great new things. Along with these positive attributes of sleep we also dream and as we enter this demio oneiron-village of dreams-anything we desire can become real for a few moments.

Researchers believe that a person needs to dream to be emotionally and mentally healthy. Our heart rate and blood pressure increase and our eyelids begin to twitch as our own personal movies play through our heads. Most dreams are wishful dreams. Dreams of things we want to happen but most likely never will. Dreaming of these things is a way to fulfill our wishes. We can also have dreams of contradiction, hypocritical, anxiety, and hysterical events. Dreams can also be a representation of something bigger or a sign for something coming. Sigmund Freud focused many of his studies on the interpretation of dreams. A falling dream could mean a person feels out of control in a situation in their waking life. Being pregnant in a dream could also symbolize new beginnings and creativity. Dreaming is another way to let one’s soul escape and be unleashed from one’s physical state.

Even though we don’t always realize what the act of sleeping does for us, we truly couldn’t move on through life without it. We get dragged down and emotionally tortured when rest is lacking. Without dreams, whether we remember them or not, our wishes would never be able to even seem possible. So whenever anxiety is taking over, being overwhelmed is the only thing you can relate to, and you just can’t figure how to get well, take some time, stop what you are doing, close your eyes, and let sleep do what it does best.



^Strictly for the song.

Eavesdropping

By Taylor

What did she say? What was that? She said my name. They’re talking about me. No, they’re talking about her. Did you hear that? She did what?

We all do it. When we’re feeling self conscious, when we’re feeling excluded, when we’re feeling unsatisfied with what we know for certain, we catch ourselves eavesdropping. Humans may often find themselves tuning into a conversation, that they, themselves, are not partaking in, during times with their ears are not being stimulated directly by a conversation.


The act of hearing, or listening to something, is a rather simple process. The outside part of the ear, called the pinna, is what human’s physically identify as "the ear." The pinna collects sound waves from a person’s surroundings and sends them into the middle ear where the eardrum is located. The sound waves are now in the form of vibrations and travel to the inner ear where the liquid-filled cochlea is located. The cochlea is responsible for sending these vibrations to the brain to be interpreted into messages as well as keeping our body’s balance in check. When the cochlear fluids lack stimulation, the body becomes wobbly and unstable, which explains why humans, even unintentionally, eavesdrop on other’s conversations. Humans seek stabilization: when the ears are not being stimulated, our listening drifts to an outside conversation in order to stimulate the cochlear fluids and help to maintain the body’s equilibrium.

Because the twenty-first century is seeping with new technologies, society struggles with determining limits when it comes to eavesdropping. Technology has altered the way society interacts with one another. As the world becomes increasingly advanced technologically, we see a decrease in the amount of communication that occurs verbally, and an increase in the amount of communication that occurs visually. Need to urgently relay a message? Ten years ago, a phone call would have been suitable. But today, we would opt for the text over the call. Or the email over the call. Or the Facebook message over the call. Technology has literally dismantled the telephone from the walls in our homes. Prior to this, the act of eavesdropping wasn’t as debatable as it is today. Mom, dad or a pesky sibling, sneakily picking up the spare phone connected to the landline and listening in on your conversation. But what happens when communication no longer requires voices? Is glancing over a shoulder and reading a text message conversation eavesdropping? What about sifting through emails that aren’t yours? Sure, no longer are you literally ‘listening in’ on a conversation, but with the advancement in communication, there is not a whole bunch to listen to. So, when we read a conversation that we aren’t a part of, we are essentially committing the same action. Therefore cyber snooping is the twenty-first century’s solution to eavesdropping.

Upon entering the maniacal teenage years, eavesdropping is hard to avoid on a daily basis. It is human nature to be interested in what is occurring in the lives of acquaintances. So when teens are closed into the tight proximity of a high school and everyone wants to know every detail about the lives of their classmates, these urges to listen in on conversations escalate. Eavesdropping allows people to obtain interesting information that may have no basis or fact to it. Eavesdropping is the source from which gossip material thrives; gossip is the source from which high school drama thrives; high school drama is the plot of which many television shows thrive; television is the source from which the media thrives. Eavesdropping is a past time of the high school student. To many teens, sharing gossip is second nature: it is a past time, just like watching television. It makes people feel knowledgeable, accepted, and powerful.

Eavesdropping (Simon Bookish Remix) (Simon Bookish Remix) - Grizzly Bear


Eavesdropping alters messages, similarly to the timeless child’s game "telephone." One person spreads what they thought they heard and the process continues in an endless cycle. A director may witness a great event and make a documentary about it. Then Hollywood snatches a hold of it and creates a movie "based on real events." Eavesdropping works in the same fashion. What once was informative rapidly degrades into a parody. Is the act of eavesdropping truly erroneous or simply a mindless act? Do humans ‘overhear’ in order to find material to sabotage people with? Or do humans listen to other conversations in order to occupy their restless ears with? Eavesdropping enables us to find a way to take negative attention away from ourselves and to redirect it elsewhere. We find problems with other people and forget about our own, temporarily boosting our morale: eavesdropping is a mechanism humans use to distract themselves from reality. Eavesdropping keeps us preoccupied. It keeps our ears entertained.

Waiting

By Kathleen

“How much of human life is lost in waiting?”
–Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick. Sometimes, waiting is an excruciating process. These are the times when waiting is the foremost thing that’s being accomplished.

“Wait your turn.”

“I’ll be with you shortly.”

“Just hold on a sec.”

“You’ll just have to be patient.”

“Let’s wait and see.”

We’ve all heard these colloquialisms that leave us feeling unsatisfied, wondering how much longer our lives will be put on hold. We try to remind ourselves that “Patience is a virtue.”

Waiting is something I do everyday, starting with lying in bed--enjoying the last minutes of bliss before an unwelcome interruption from my alarm. I wait for class to end, the school day to end, and then for practice to end. I arrive home starved and wait for dinner to be ready. Whether it’s these everyday instances of waiting—in line at the grocery store, at stoplights, and through TV commercials—or whether it’s waiting for something on a larger scale, like the next, better, phase of life. Waiting takes up a tremendous amount of time.



I recently endured an exhausting waiting experience. It ended the day of my driver’s license test. I had waiting sixteen years already, and finally, I was down to anxious anticipation throughout the morning and afternoon. Now, I only had forty more dreadful minutes to wait. My mom was supposed to pick me up early, but of course, she was late. Stressed, concerned, and apprehensive, I nervously plucked at my split ends while peering out the front window every fourth second. Ten minutes behind schedule, we arrived at the less than affable Department of Motor Vehicles, and I immediately ran to the first line—and waited. I reached the front and explained I was there for my driver’s test. The bitter woman directed me to a second line—to wait yet again. This time, after finally reaching my destination, the lady lazily peered over her shoulder, looked at the clock, and tersely pointed out that we were six minutes late. She explained that, “Here at the DMV, we run on a tight schedule—I’ll make an exception just this once.” After a stern glare, she told me to pull my car around to the front overhead. There, while watching other drivers come and go, I waited, and waited, and waited some more. I performed stress-relieving exercises for at least a half-hour, but the stress of waiting wouldn’t go away. Finally, I apprehensively drove away with my instructor, awaiting my fate. If I didn’t pass, I would have to wait another month for the next opportunity.

‘To wait’ derives from Middle English, from Anglo-French “waiter, or guaiter-- to watch over, await.” All living things are waiting. Wild animals wait for prey, dogs wait for walks, cats wait for food, and humans wait for, well, what exactly?

Humans await the next portion of life. At times, we’ve all just wanted to get through the day—to hear that three o’clock bell chime as if it were the ticket to freedom. But perhaps we’re waiting for something bigger. Some wait for summer, then graduation, and then college. And then we’ll wait for that perfect career and apartment, and then we wait for love—which turns into waiting for marriage, for the missed menstrual cycle, then for the baby to arrive. In an astral second, it seems we’re waiting for retirement. But if we’re not simply waiting for our present stage to end, perhaps we’re happily awaiting an event we’ve been excited about for months.

The act of waiting conjures up something negative, yet the act of anticipating is arguably the sweetest part of life. These forms of ‘interim time’ are so incredibly different. Usually, when people are in the act of waiting, they are bored, restless, and merely marking time towards some point in the near future. Anticipating is so much more—it’s waiting with excitement for something to happen. When we were young, we would spend days waiting in anticipation of Christmas, or our birthday. We would start count-downs months in advance, begin making invitations, dreaming of those mysterious gifts crowding the base of the family Christmas tree. Eventually, we grow older and spend less time anticipating holidays. Our anticipation turns to things like graduation, careers, and a wedding day. To anticipate is a wonderful thing, and as long as we are living each day fully we are not waiting.

Christopher Columbus did not wait for somebody else to discover the New World. Abraham Lincoln didn’t wait for the next President to free the slaves. Neil Armstrong didn’t wait for the next astronaut to fly to the moon; instead he launched himself into fame while gracefully securing the American Flag onto dusty particles of the Moon. These great historic figures that we look up to as role models did not wait for life to come to them. These heroic men took action. They knew what they wanted, and they made it happen.

We “ordinary folks” should spend less time waiting as well. We all have a purpose in this world, and we should not let purpose pass us by because we’re too busy waiting for something new.

Hunting

By Brandon

Bang! The silent yet powerful bullet pierces the skin of the prey without leaving anymore than a dime sized mark; the animal drops silently and without pain and becomes a delectable food item for the hunter. This is the type of success that every hunter dedicates their life in trying to achieve and is for some reason frowned upon by many people world wide. To them the idea that someone can enjoy shooting an animal for the sake of meat, thrill, and harmonization with nature is preposterous and despicable. To those people I say picture this, the smooth, soft flow of the word continues day after day, sky ablaze and moon rising like clockwork, yet the balance of life is upset. Animals overpopulate without the work of the hunter; the sick and usually disposed of animals are left to roam around and infect the rest of the herds and packs killing off millions. The meat supply runs thin and humans resort to cannibalism throwing society into a chaotic chiasm of craziness and killing. This is how the great factory that is world would run if the nuts and bolts of the factory, the hunters, were to be loosened and disposed of.
The art of hunting is not just the killing of animals but is the idea of harmonizing with nature and reverting back to the primitive time of hunting and gathering when men did not work to become rich and prosperous but instead worked to survive. I seem to leave the present world behind when hunting and become apart of the grass, trees, animals, and other organic objects that surround my hunting oasis every time I step out into the real wilderness. People who do not spend time outdoors doing such an activity as hunting can not say they know the true meaning of living a life that becomes ripe enough to fall of the tree on its own and be devoured at the end of its time. With hunting comes this ripeness and a spiritual connection with the very core of our beginning and allows the words that formulate in there to be read aloud.


Unfortunately there is the person that calls themselves a hunter who truly does not know what the action really means. Using twenty first century technology like rangefinders, laser dot scopes, and automatic weapons take away from the effect of hunting and any so called hunter caught using these things should be in fact tried in court for murder. Real hunting is using natural weapons of the earth that after being used properly can be bestowed back upon the gracious hands of mother earth to continue living and growing. Real hunting does not mean taking a trophy status animal every time one goes on an expedition, the real meaning of a trophy animal is an animal that one can be proud of taking no matter what size and is taken by matters of fair chase. Real hunting is consuming of all parts of game taken and not killing for the sake of horns, tusks, or antlers. Real hunting is a way of life that is in touch with the most natural, most wild, and most ethical internal functions of the human body.

I believe that we must hunt like the coyote. Yet it is one of the smallest in the dog families and is thought to be a weak creature only capable of scavenging, I believe it is the greatest hunter in the animal kingdom. The coyote kills only what is needs to survive and does not make a stockpile of any leftover meat to save for later but instead consumes every part of its prey’s body including the bones. I have personally seen the coyote stalk a rabbit from four hundred yards away with only the cover of short tan grass and a few bushes in different locations. Only by keenness, stealth, agility, and patience did this coyote obtain his prize allowing me to give him the title of master of hunting. They are not greedy hunters and never take more than they can eat and also never attempt at chasing anything they know they cannot successfully kill. The coyote does not rely on the hunting of others for food as we humans do today and do not rely on foreign objects to power its will to survive. Humans have lost sight of this free lancing will which is why the state of the world is what it is today. Perhaps the studying of the coyote’s habits can restore the greatness of the world, a time of fighting and working for the sake of surviving and not for the sake of greed.



Living is not hunting but hunting is living. One can achieve the rank of living through other outdoor activities and hobbies but some of those activities have muddy depths that can be stirred up by the sloshing of the chaotic world. Hunting can surely be thought of as living without a thought of time, reason, or outside existence. When hunting one does not think about waking up early to go to work the next day or how well the stocks are doing on Wall Street. What really matters when hunting is hearing the soft purring of the dove, the silent swish of the sea like grass blowing in the wind, and the chiseling chirp of the chickaree who basks in the shade of the old oak. My words of wisdom are to go hunting one day without a gun or bow or any other weapon and do not hunt for animals, but hunt for yourself instead.

Crying

By Sharlene

One tear.

That’s how it starts. A single tear runs slowly down your cheek, gently gliding past the grooves of your nose. You taste its saltiness as it lands delicately on your lips. They begin to quiver as you brace yourself for the quiet flood that is sure to follow. You can feel your face growing hotter, your body beginning to shake. You try to gain control, to contain whatever it is inside you that’s pouring out endlessly through your tear ducts. You catch your breath, wipe your face, steady your body. You must do something, anything, to make it stop. But it’s inevitable. All the joy or sorrow or fear you’re feeling is now running down your face in tiny little teardrops.

For when all you want to do is lose control but you’re forced to keep your composure; when your mind is flooded with emotions that are too powerful, too real for it to handle; when every cell in your body is dying to scream and jump and kick and flail; there is nothing left to do, but cry.



Crying is often considered a sign of weakness, something that only petty children and hormonal women take part in. This fable is particularly common among men, who are often raised to believe that real men don’t cry and they need to learn to “suck it up.” My dad is a prime example of this stereotype. I’ve only seen him cry twice, once when he and my mom got a divorce and again when my grandma died. Ironically, the need to resist crying and be strong is in many ways the most cowardly thing one could do, for often times it’s not so much one’s strength that is holding back their tears as it is their fear of revealing a side of themselves that they wish to keep hidden.

We as a culture tend to keep to ourselves and avoid reaching out for help, which helps to explain why we try so hard not to cry, particularly in public. But when we do cry, when we let our emotions be seen, there’s nearly always someone there, whether a family member or a complete stranger, who is willing to offer comfort and support. While crying may bring out what we consider the worst in ourselves, it can also bring out the best in others.

While some people, like my dad, cry only once or twice in their lifetime, there are also some people for whom crying is like breathing. These are the poor saps you see leaving romance movies with red puffy eyes and a dozen used tissues falling out of their pockets. Though people who cry often are often stereotyped as being overly emotional, there’s something to be said for their unabashed emotionality, for they are perhaps the most in tune with their own minds, bodies, and souls.



Scientists have found that tears reduce tension, remove toxins, and increase the body’s ability to heal itself, meaning that those who cry often are healthier than those who don’t. For many women, myself included, crying comes more easily while they’re on their period. I believe it’s the ability to be a bit overemotional and be able to blame it on something else that allows, and sometimes forces, women to express their emotions more openly during their periods. True, their crying outbursts are often met with the “Oh God, she’s on her period” look of horror, but it’s a small price to pay to be able to cry like a baby and have a valid excuse.

I have done my share of crying. Often times it’s been joyful, such as the night Barack Obama was elected President, and other times it’s been hysterical, such as when I dropped the cranberry relish I’d spent all afternoon making all over the kitchen floor, which in hindsight was not merely as traumatic as I made it out to be.

However, my most vivid memories of crying are of sitting on the bathroom floor, my legs pulled up to my chest, my forehead resting on my knees, as tears fall slowly and silently down my face. Hopeless crying. The kind of crying that reveals I have nothing left in me. The kind of crying that comes when I’ve once again been reminded that no matter what I do, no matter how much I try to please him or make him accept me as I am, I will always fail. He will never see. He will never understand. He will never change. It’s the type of crying that I try to forget, to push to the back of my mind; until I’m back in that position, there on the bathroom floor, tears falling slowly and silently down my face, once again reminded of the pain and resentment and anger that no amount of tears can wash away.



Though I know crying will not erase the feelings that have been embedded so deep into my soul, it still helps me to release them, even if it’s only to make room for new ones. I believe that is what crying is essentially: a release. With each tear, a bit of our burden is released, temporarily carried away to a land far away from our conscious mind. As Lemony Snicket said in The Bad Beginning, “...you know that a good, long session of weeping can often make you feel better, even if your circumstances have not changed one bit."

Driving

By: Jennifer

On the outside sky blue metallic paint glistens unless it’s covered by a film of dust due to a lack of care to even wash it; rubber tires as dark as tar grab the road with their treads and the hubcaps spin so fast they’re a blur; a miniature shark fin rests on the top as if the car is the mechanical equivalent of the ferocious beast of the sea. On the inside beige leather interior that even the old Chrysler spokesperson Ricardo Montalban would praise; powerful speakers that unfortunately distort the sound as the volume goes up play the same CDs over and over; the cup holders always hold red slushies from 7-11; jackets accumulate in the backseats over time eventually over taking them completely; a squeegee, that was slightly destroyed when a friend slammed the door on it, lays in the backseat all year round; the trunk is filled with dirty clothes from sports; the trunk is opened with discretion. This is my car. On the road it is just a dirty blue Volvo in the same rat race of driving with millions of others; there is nothing special about the Volvo in traffic; it becomes part of the industrial ocean of cars; the Volvo isn’t flashy, luxurious, rusty, or broken down. It is an average car on the road and if one saw a bird’s eye view of it on the road it would not appear special either. However boring it appears with the millions of other cars, the inside of my car is its own world where my personality shines through.



When a car is in motion, the rumbling, roaring, and rolling sensations bring pride to the owner; a sense of freedom is also brought to the owners mind; the open road will forever stay long and smooth if the driver always brings a sense of pride and freedom when driving. If only traffic didn’t exist. An abrupt stop in the mind’s highway of peace is made as a driver enters into a world filled frustration and irritability due to traffic. People all over the world experience the frustrations of traffic everyday; driving is an activity most view as a means of independence, but traffic shatters all the ideals of driving in as quick as five minutes. The mind is hastily vexed by all of the complications created by other drivers for the relaxing highway for it can no longer rest; time and time again the mind has gone into a frenzy of fear and anxiety by the failure of other drivers to utilize safe driving skills like using a turn signal. If drivers are going to keep their sanity, all drivers should follow some simple rules that already exist: go the speed limit, use turn signals, and drive in the correct lane. After sitting at a red light one evening while driving a white van sat to my left, the light turned green and we both proceeded to go; we had crossed the intersection when for no reason the van began to merge into my lane and almost right into me. Fortunately, I braked and nothing happened. My poor mind however was on edge the rest of the night.



On the occasion that I’m on the road practically by myself in my car it is one of the most relaxing activities I have ever taken part in. Automobile is composed of two parts the word auto and the word mobile. The first means self in Greek and the latter means moving in French therefore automobile means self moving. Self moving is a beautiful phrase that suggests balance to the mind; balance is what an automobile should bring to its owner; when the driver can feel the wheels hugging the ground and moving so fluidly over the earth, a calming sense of stillness and motion overwhelm the mind and body. The windows glide down with the touch of a button and all of a sudden the driver can experience the natural world once more. The hum of the wheels on the road is broken up by wind rushing in the car, and by animals living out their lives in nature; one’s ears are thrown back into tornado of natural sounds instead of the dull artificial mechanical sounds constantly droning. Petaluma drivers are privileged to enjoy some of the most pungent air in the world; as disgusting as manure is to smell at least it is something real instead of man made air fresheners that overwhelm one’s nostrils and distort all other scents. The eyes are brought out of a world of boxes and into a world of organic shapes that have no fixed borders; as one’s eyes become exposed to the outdoor sights they begin to relax; information isn’t being shoved in front of one’s eyes; everything is taken in simply as it is.

Driving can be the most stressful activity or the most calming; in either case driving will bring out a person's personality; it could be seen by the clutter in the car, the person's reactions to bad drivers, the music the person is playing, the paint the person chose for the car, or the serene routes a person likes to take. Driving brings people closer to their inner thoughts no matter how subtle like changing a song or how palpable like cursing another driver for his or her mistake. People become in tune with their mind while driving; whether the mind is in a peaceful state or a chaotic state depends on the circumstances. It is a Zen like activity that goes largely unnoticed by drivers. If a person takes the time to go on a drive for themselves, hopefully, this Zen like state will become clear and driving can play a more significant role in a person's life.

Jumping

By Laura

Jump Jive an Wail - The Brian Setzer Orchestra

Ah, the art of bouncing. Up and down and up and down. Jumping-leaping-springing-vaulting-bounding. Like plucking at the rubber bands on a home made shoebox guitar, the act of jumping is a freedom, one that normally only belongs to little kids.

One week, my dad decided to take us to the fabled snow, a stuff that my brother had never before seen. That drive, long, unending, numbing, had Dad and I drooling for some excitement while Mom and Ian snored in the back seat. A spike of color appeared over the brown fence among the white houses and the dead gold grass and the flat dull sky we were passing. The inkblot was one of those fantastic jumping houses. I do believe it was Spiderman looming off the roof of it. It was the only vibrating color among mediocre expanses. My heart swelled with yearning to fly around in a jumpy house of mine own. No one over the age of ten openly admits it, but you know you all want one too.

I remember stepping inside one of those sweating, rubbery tents and immediately tripping, falling flat on my face, and then… bouncing back up. The bliss and joy of being able to fall down, slam into, fly up, and flip over the flatly colored walls without the pain that those actions would incur out there—in the real world.

Reality is like trying to inflate a balloon, never knowing, only hoping, that the latex skin holds without popping. Popped balloons would mean that the world discovers your sins and vices and quirks and habits and histories; far too many people are ashamed of the contents of their balloons. The silly, free giddiness induced by using your muscles to get off the ground is the result of releasing your little yellow balloon voluntarily, that ppphuudddt sound of forgiving, losing control on purpose, and having fun.

And it’s not just the personal joy you experience when ricocheting of rubber walls or springing on a trampoline. When you jump, not only are we laughing at you, but we’re also laughing with you:



But those leaps of good intentions, fired by great expectations, can lead to pain. Every jump is a risk. When you leave the ground of solidity, Mother Earth and the world of logic/life/reality, you enter the realm of ether and muses where nothing is as it seems, where the only thing supporting your very tangible, heavy body is a nearly intangible, invisible gas, where everything gets “curiouser and curiouser!” as Alice says.

You think that skipping rope is no big deal? You tense your muscles, feeling firm and ready. Your knees are bent; you straighten them out with a soft grinding noise like drying applesauce: push off from the asphalt, and launch into the air with exhilarating weightlessness, floating, alone, and above. Panic sets in. You can’t handle the freedom. You will go crazy from the potentiality of everything and anything. No support. Body will fall, crush, die. End. But then your feet fall –THOCK—on the ground, just on the other side of the jump rope. You bend and tense to do it again.

Just little jumps. But then there are those who sail off bridges and planes, the Empire State Building. Those who take soaring leaps during the first lunar landing or a heart-pounding hurdles event. Many of these folk are experts, assisted by suits, shoes, or parachutes. Some forego the precautions and leap blindly. Just last year, approximately 34 suicides occurred by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. Thirty four people were fed up with life. Thirty four people added their corpses to the sea. Thirty four people wanted liberty from living.

A portraitist by the name of Philippe Halsman discovered the discipline of "jumpology." Halsman convinced many of his subjects, including millionaires, movie stars, and royalty, to jump for a camera. Jumping released a natural face more beautiful than the one composed of boa-constrictor-suits and high-heeled shoes. Jumping allowed his models to relax and become real.

Lastly, I would like to mention the movie “Flubber.” This jolly green blob bounces his way through basketball tournaments, bowling balls, and fights. No other entity embodies the spirit of the bounce better than mischievous Flubber, who congas, bonks, and boosts nearly everyone involved, all with a giddy giggle.

We jump for freedom from law, from adulthood, from formality, from life. Jumping is a way to escape momentarily (or not) from our problems. We jump to test the boundaries of the earth and the gravity that hold us down. How far can we go? Everest? The moon? Pluto? The other side of the galaxy? The other end of the universe? Heaven?

Boing! Boing! Squeak!
Boing! Boing! Squeak!
A bouncing mouse is in my house,
It’s been here for a week.
--“ Boing! Boing! Squeak!” Jack Prelutsky