"I wouldn't be an American, if it wasn't for TEXAS" -George Strait

Cowboy boots, cowboy hats, horses, longhorns, southern belles, southern gentlemen, cowboys, and cowgirls- everything is bigger and better in Texas. Texans are notoriously filled with state-pride. Being from Texas is a privilege and it is a part of those lucky enough to live there, forever. It will always be our "home on the range" and nowhere else is like it. We will always be "strictly home creature[s]" stubbornly and "invariably point[ing] [ourselves] South (Dobie, 438)." Our state flag is easily recognized as we fly it high with spirited joy. Texas, unlike other states, is a brand, a way of life, and a community. We all gleam with pride when a celebrity, artist, athlete, or singer is from Texas. There are many symbols and landmarks that bring us together as Texans. These have lasted many years and are deeply engrained in Texas history. "The Texas longhorn made more history than any other breed of cattle the civilized world has [ever] known (Dobie, 433)." They represent a bond between Texans that can't be broken, loosened, or modified. That sense of community is best represented in the Texas Longhorn. 

The longhorn is not only famous for being a proud part of Texas history, but also because of what he represents. Longhorns were fitted to survive. "A wild, tough, sturdy, long-horned breed (Dromgook, 425)," they proudly exhibit courage to stand their ground and defend their freedom. Texans stereotypically (and realistically in my humble opinion) embody such qualities and attitudes as the longhorn. We too take solace in our superior abilities, and stubbornly protect our liberty. To us, the longhorn represents "courage, fighting ability, nerve, lust of combat, efficiency in deadly encounters, and the holy spirit of never-say-die (The Alcalde, 451)." We are steadfast in our ways, and care for our own as family. We lead with "spirit of freedom (Dobie, 458)", not follow, until we get where we plan to go. Like "the longhorns of the brush, instead of being modified by men, [we] brent men to their own ways (Dobie, 449)." As law of the wild indicates; Texas is our natural home on the range. 

Bevo

Coexist

Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Judaism, and Islam all have at least one major thing in common: “compassion is considered in all the major religious traditions as among the greatest of virtues (Wikipedia, 319).” Religion illustrates and guides an ideal way to live life compassionately, and because of this all religious people should be able to coexist peacefully. Some religions consider all life, human and non, to be sacred and thus required of compassion, others create a hierarchy of importance usually placing humans on top by “creating a dominantly human-forced morality (Janism and Ecology, 324).” Compassion for others not only benefits others, but also benefits the benefactor as well.

             Western religions traditionally focus more on a singular deity and the lives of humans. Eastern religions have a different focus, a complete respect for all forms of life. For example, in Hinduism, one of the “foremost sentiments is the sanctity of the cow (Hinduism and the Surabhi cow, 342).” Western religions may shirk at this, especially carnivorous people, but the reasoning is sound. We are all earthlings. Eastern religions is much less speciesist and much more compassionate towards “lesser beings.” 

Scavenger hunt of scavengers

In the museum, only animal remains and pictures are displayed.  The relationship between the animals and homo sapiens is distinct. The animals are kept solitarily behind safety glass, clearly separated from the human observers. It further shows the exploitation of animals by humans, this time, in terms of research historically and scientifically. Also, we don't know how these creature were collected; if they were already dead, or if they were killed for museum purposes (excluding dinosaurs of course). The locations/floors designated for the different animals is determined by habitats. It doesn't seem speciesist because it presents the community of all the animals (except humans) that occupy a certain area of land in a particular climate.

On the first floor, in the paleontology and geology section, the Cotton Tail Rabbit (Sylvilagus) skeleton caught my eye. It was a completely reconstructed animal which was very intricate due to the animal's naturally small stature. These remains were found in Bexas County, Texas, and is a composite Pleistocene. As my power animal, I feel that these displayed remains are acceptable for viewing purposes. The rabbit is not an endangered species, and the bones were collected post-mortem. I think that homo-sapiens should learn from animals as we learn from them.

On the second floor, I chose the picture of the American White Pelican. The American White Pelicans are common winter residents of the Texas coast. This bird, with its pouch turned inside out against its chest, is resting on a pier in Galveston County. It resides alongside Great Blue Herons, my power animal of course. As my power animal, I feel that this picture shows the pride that us birds love to show off. I think that photographs of animals are a non-intrusive way to studying these beautiful creatures. Being a fellow bird, in a similar environment, I would be happy to pose for as many pictures as possible for people to awe at my beauty.

On the third floor, in Oakland Woodlands and Prairies, I chose the Rock Squirrel (scientifically known as the Spermophilus variegatus). It is a large, moderately bushy-tailed ground squirrel; upperparts mottled grayish brown, the hind back and rump more brownish (head or head and upper back blackish in some parts of the state); tail mixed buff and brown, edged with white; underparts buffy white or pinkish buff. Squirrels are very common in Texas, especially the rock squirrel. As my power animal, I feel that this stuffed version is insulting to the species. There is no life in the eyes of the animal, no spirit. I do not think this is the way nature intended us to view this wonderfully curious creature. We don't stuff humans so we can observe them after they die, why doesn't this squirrel receive the same courtesy?

On the fourth floor I chose one of the preserved toads in the reptiles and amphibians of Texas area: the Gulf Coast Toad (scientifically known as Bufo valliceps). This toad is found in Louisiana, Texas, and eastern Mexico. This toad is one of the largest ones on display, yet still confined to a tiny jar. As G.B. Heron, I feel sorry for this creature. Even though I often enjoy these tasty treats as special meals, I would rather it be in my belly than in this jar. I think that it is distasteful to the memory of the frog. A rendering or a photography would suffice just fine.

Peaceable Kingdom

Through the Looking Glass

Tuggin' on my heart strings

Tuggles, a beautiful grey calico, wants nothing more than to play and be loved on constantly. Pawing at the glass, she sits, patiently waiting, looking at all who walk past. As soon as you make eye contact with this pretty kitty your heart will belong to her. She has deep blue eyes and sits tall waiting for someone to enter her area. Tuggles will instantly make you feel welcome to come in and love on her. After you introduce yourself to her, letting her smell your hand, she takes an immediate liking to you. She will come brush against your legs begging for you to bend down. As soon as you lean down to pet her, all reservations go to the wind as she embraces your touch. Oh boy, does she love to purr! Her soft fur and loving demeanor makes for the perfect cuddle companion. Once in your lap, you will never want this genuine beauty to leave.

Tuggles!

Tuggles is such a curious cat, always leaping before she looks often to everyone’s amusement. She is outgoing and very friendly. She shares her cage with three other cats and gets along with them swimmingly. She is the youngest, only a year old, and most active of the cats living with her, and she knows not to bother the older ones too often. Still, she ventures around the small room, playing with inanimate objects and other cats as they allow. This stunning feline has a true heart of gold. She is undoubtedly the happiest when in the presence of people. She greets everyone without judgment or fear eager to get to know them. Her fun loving personality is attractive to all who pass, I guarantee Tuggles will tug on your heartstrings!

I wish we knew her story of how she got to Austin Pets Alive. If only she could communicate to us how she is feeling or how she is doing. She seems to be doing just fine, but could be better with the help of a companion. I wonder what her life was like before she got here, if she had an owner or if she grew up with her family. I wonder if someone found her or if someone left her. I wonder if she suffered a trauma and if so how she keeps such a seemingly peppy outlook. I wonder how long she has been waiting. All these things I wondered about made me begin to imagine what her life was like before. This is my version of Tuggles story through her eyes:

A year ago I was living in a dark place with my mother, brothers, and sisters. We ate out of a big green box when it was dark outside. We would climb into it, and there would be many foods to choose from. Mother said to be careful to not eat things that aren’t food. Once I ate something that mother called a diaper and I got really sick. Then I understood what she warned us about. I was much pickier after that day. Mother told me that we prowl at night, like wild cats, so that “they” wouldn’t catch us. Regardless of that precaution, sometimes we came across “them”— the two-legged creatures. Some of them made clicking sounds to us and extended their arms towards us. Mother said to not go near them because they are evil. Every time she saw a two-legged she told us the story about how they took Papa. I can’t remember just how many times I heard that story. Still, I didn’t really understand why “they” were evil. I don’t know why, but I longed to be held by those creatures. It’s something deep inside their eyes when they looked at me as I looked yearningly back at them. Against mother’s advice, I wanted them to catch me. I always scampered away slower than the others because, oddly enough, I was not afraid. I mean, I wasn’t afraid of most of them.

After a while, I got bigger. I got fatter from the food in the big green box. I was half-the size of mother. It was getting hotter outside, and the dark place we called home kept us cool. One day, a two-legged ran fast and hard towards me. I looked in its eyes and this creature showed no comfort. I saw what mother warned us to fear. Everyone ran away, but I was still eating deep in the box. Suddenly, I felt two strange paws latch onto me and pull me out, up, and away from the food and away from my family. Squinting in the sunlight, I tried to smell the creature. As I leaned to press my cool wet nose against the creature’s furless body, it dropped me. I looked up in confusion and it started yelling at me and shoved me aside with one of its two long legs. I saw no love in its eyes. I tried to retreat back to my home, the cave where the rain collected for us to drink, but the unusual paws picked me up once more and dangled me by the skin of my neck. It held me away from its body, as far as the paw could stretch. Soon enough, we reached a strange looking thing with circles on the bottom instead of feet. It was an oddly shaped box, one I had seen many times before whizzing past our home. A few of them had almost crushed me in the past. Mother told us to always fear the box on four circles. I tried to scramble away, but the creature shoved me into a small box inside the box on four circles. This box was nothing like the food one; it was small and cramped with no food inside. Then everything went black.

Trying to figure out where I was, I began to meow, calling out for my mother, my brothers, and my sisters. Meowing, and meowing, and meowing. Mother where are you? Mother where am I? I felt a sharp smack on the box I was inside of. The hit kind of hurt, and it scared me, so I meowed louder, which was followed by more harsh blows. My ears began to ring. I longed to go back to my home with my family and my freedom. I began scratching furiously at the box in desperation. I’m scared, I thought, but actually I was terrified. In response to my cries and whole-heated attempt to escape, the box (with me inside) was pushed from where it put us to somewhere below. My stomach dropped in midair until I was once again on solid ground. The floor was still slightly moving and humming. Out of sheer exhaustion, everything went black once more as I closed my eyes and dreamed of the good ol’ days with my mother, brothers, and sisters, wondering why I ever wanted to be caught.

    After what seemed like days had passed, my box was opened. I squinted into the light that seemed brighter than the sun. The light seemed so close to me. There was a two-legged looking at me lovingly. It had long hair and spoke sweetly to me and I wasn’t as afraid anymore. She stroked me and cooed in my direction. I was just starting to warm up to the two-leggeds again when a different set of paws took me out of the box. Next thing I knew, I was being poked and prodded by sharp objects. Immediately I began to panic, meowing frantically for help. What were the two-leggeds doing to me? Where are the others? Quickly thereafter the longhaired two-legged returned to calm me and pet me. She looked deep into my eyes and told me that now I was safe. Safe? Safely away from my family and my home and everything I knew. She then placed me in a smallish room with glass on three sides. There I met my new roommates, all three of them.

    I have only been here for a few weeks, but I am already lonely. The two-leggeds have stopped playing with me as often and I haven’t seen the nice longhaired creature that helped me when I first got here. Two-leggeds pass the window all day long. Some look at me, some don’t. Some are brave enough to open the door and enter into our temporary home. At least I hope it is temporary. Yesterday Bunko, one of my roommates, was taken away by a longhaired two-legged who was very short and close to the ground. It picked Bunko up and held him close until Bunko began to purr. That is the first time I heard him happy since I got here. Since that day, every day I stare at the glass waiting for a two-legged to save me too. I see them watching me through the glass. I’m watching them too.

                Tuggles touched me in a special way as we shared a sort of unspoken connection. I did not want to leave her. "I had forgotten the depth of feeling one could see in [animal's] eyes."[i] I wanted to take her home, but my residency wouldn’t allow it. This project, first introduced at the beginning of the semester, is a main reason I decided to take this class. The idea of visiting an animal in the community and helping it get adopted was not only immediately appealing, but also potentially morally satisfying. The curriculum at UT largely ignores the heart and focuses mainly on the head. "We're thinking too much about educating the mind, and forgetting about the heart and soul.”[ii] Thus, I embraced this rare opportunity to utilize both my head and my heart with open arms.

My main worry was that I would want to adopt all of the animals and never want to leave. I feared that I would fall in love with these adorable helpless creatures, but I decided it was worth the potential heartbreak even if I could not save them all. Even if I could save only a few, it would be valuable because "love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart."[iii]  I yearned to help this wonderfully compassionate organization, but I mainly yearned to help the many animals find caring homes. So, I started telling everyone I knew about APA hoping that, in turn, that they would tell everyone they knew. Dreaming, that by word of mouth people’s awareness would be heightened and animals would be saved. I thought that by shattering people’s ignorance that their apathy would also dissipate and be replaced with compassion. I was met with futile resistance, as many people did not want to know and did not want to care. It was then that I was reminded, "apathy [often] prevails over caring."[iv] Apathy is easily achieved through conditioned indifference, lacking interest or concern to make denial easier later. So that in hindsight we can guiltlessly ask ourselves, "how could we have let that happen?"[v]

            This quest for feeling is hindered by fear. Such an intense and selfish fear of vulnerability trumped much compassion. The excuses for maintaining apathy seem foolish and cowardly. People rationalize their choice of not utilizing their feelings because "knowledge [can be] so overwhelming," and it might be "futile to care" when in actuality they are simply afraid and caught up in the "war against compassion."[vi]  I thought if I could spread the information that sympathy would be contagious, and then people would tune in to their sympathetic imagination. Sympathetic imagination is the ability of a person to penetrate the barrier which space puts between him and his object, and, by actually entering into the object, so to speak, to secure a momentary but complete identification with it. It is crucial to care about other creatures, even if it does not affect one’s personal life directly by doing so because "compassion for animals is intimately connected with goodness of character and it may be confidently asserted that he who is cruel to animals cannot be a good man.”[vii] It is a work in progress, but I feel that it is a step in the right direction. It has been said, "no good thing can be done by any man alone.”[viii] This project created a group of us dedicated to making a change. This class, with "our [newly] heightened consciousness"[ix] can continue to make the world a better place for all its inhabitants.

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[i] Walker, Alice Am I Blue? (San Diego: HBJ, 1988) 4.

[ii] Saunders, Marshall Beautiful Joe (Philadelphia: Charles H. Banes, 1893) 168.

[iii] Irving, Washington

[iv] Adams, Carol J. The Feminist Care Tradition in Animal Ethics “The War on Compassion” (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007) 33.

[v] Ibid. 31

[vi] Ibid. 31-33

[vii] Schopenhauer, Arthur

[viii] Neihardt, John G. Black Elk Speaks: Being the Life Story of a Holy Man of the Oglala Sioux (Lincoln: University of Nebraska, 1961)

[ix] Speigel, Marjorie The Dreaded Comparison: Human and Animal Slavery 2^nd edition (New York: Mirror Books, 1996) 13.

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With: 2123 

Without: 1963

"Love Conquers All" -Virgil

"The answer is never the answer. What's really interesting is the mystery. If you seek the mystery instead of the answer, you'll always be seeking (Kesey, 296)."

Humans, since creation, have been curious beings. Always looking for the means and the meaning of things. Temptations galore. It's the reason Adam and Eve got kicked out of the Garden of Eden, and it is why our paradise is lost. Still, we search for meaning in life every minute of every hour of every day. Trying to make our life purposeful to the world. We figure we must have been put here for a reason and thus have a reason for our lives. Hoping one day we can return to the once known "paradise on earth (Martel, 309) and we "shall free the earth from never-ceasing fear (Virgil,278)."

In our reading for today, we read an excerpt from The Life of Pi. It had a new fresh perspective that I am not very used to hearing. When talking about Hinduism in Chapter 17, Martel writes, "First wonder goes deepest; wonder after that fits in the impression made by the first. I owe to Hinduism the original landscape of my religious imagination, those towns and rivers, battlefields and forests, holy mountains and deep seas where gods, saints, villains, and ordinary people rub shoulders, and in doing so, define who and why we are (316)." In our endless search for meaning, we inevitably must run into one another to help each other out. It reminds me of how I felt when I got hit by a UPS truck in high school. For a second there I really thought that was it. My life was over. That night I wrote this about the experience, and as I cannot relate that closely to Hinduism, it reminded me of that sense of mystery and search for life.

I enter into the narrow tunnel of stillness a day after narrowly escaping the tunnel of death. This place where you can’t even blink or they can’t get a magnetic picture of the damages. The clicking of the machine sounds like “Brad Pitt, Brad Pitt, Brad Pitt” over and over again until the buzzing interrupts and vibrates my body. I lie motionless, my limbs locked into place looking up at the lights and the inside of the tunnel just two inches away from my face. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Sean, the MRI technician, reminds me that I am halfway done. Can’t stop now.

            The scene keeps replaying over and over again in my head like a DVD stuck on repeat. I was just driving to run some errands. Just another day. Singing along to The Format with my friend.

            My neck is stiff, so is my back, and I feel bruises obviously from the seat belt. And even though I know I couldn’t have done anything differently, and I don’t have regrets, I feel at fault. And I don’t want to feel sorry for myself, but I feel damaged. And I just want my life to get back on track, and to look outside to see my four-month-old car gleaming in the driveway. But that’s not reality.

            A split second altered my outlook on life.

            She looked over at me while we were driving down Tanglewood Blvd and screamed, “TRACY!”, and as I turned to my left, I saw a brown blur with glaring headlights before I felt the impact on my legs, arms, head, and body. My world was spinning; I couldn’t feel any pain because worrying about her was my only priority. I somehow managed to put the car into park and attempted to kick my door open, but that was not possible. The impact had jammed it, and my old way of seeing life jammed as well. I leapt into the back seat scraping my knees on tinted glass as I climbed out the other side of the car through the door that still worked. I let her out, then collapsed onto the grass, for the first time letting myself have a taste of the impact I had just experienced.

            Everyone was asking me questions. I was crying and shaking and shrieking and questioning and lying face down on the grass. I was scared. I was unreachable, untouchable, but I needed help. I called my mom and frantically told her I had just gotten into a horrible accident, but my throat wouldn’t allow my mouth to speak the streets I was nearest to. I chokingly handed my phone to the witness for him to help me. My first step of dependency and trust of a total stranger. But there was no time, no choice. My brain had checked out from my body.

            Once again my expression turned to stone as I returned to autopilot. I got off of the ground and took my phone back from the man and called 911. I saw the UPS lady crying while she was sitting on the grass on the other side of this person’s yard. I walked over to her and ask for her insurance papers. I had to take care of this situation. She took away my dependence. She stole the attention. This hysterical woman handed me her phone to talk to her boss. He tells me where the papers are. I got them. The UPS lady told me she has never been in a collision before, I told her I hadn’t either. She told me that she was sorry, that she didn’t see the stop sign, that she didn’t mean to. I told her that is why it is called an accident.

            I wanted to be angry with her. I wanted to yell and scream and ask her why she couldn’t have been more careful. I was mad at fate, yet I was lucky. For the first time I walked to the driver’s side of the car to see the damage done. My stomach dropped, yet I remained composed. The driver’s door and back door on the driver’s side were damaged beyond repair, the back window had been shattered, rearview mirror lay on the opposite side of the street, glass splintered the sidewalk, I am lucky to be alive.

            The movie ‘Crash’ (screenwriter Paul Haggis) ended with a line I will never forget: “It’s the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In L.A., nobody touches you. We’re always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something.”

If she was lonely, I wish she would have just said so.