I can't stop thinking about the idea of building residential housing and neighborhoods around a prison.  How anyone thought that was a good idea, or why the government even allowed such a thing.  The answer the tour guide gave was helpful and terse: it's cheaper. But I guess I'm wrestling with the implications of a walled community to be so close to "the outside".  I'm left with questions like "what was it like to live so close to such a space" and "how did it mentally affect them on a daily basis?"  When I pose these questions, I'm thinking about both sides.  After all, it was probably psychologically frustrating to be so close to the "outside" and be able to hear life go on and remain so sequestered.  

So many thoughts are running through my mind after yesterday's trip. First off, I'd like to say that it was really a joy exploring the city with you all. Getting out of the classroom felt so freeing; I hope we have another opportunity to get into the city as the semester progresses (fancy Philly 360 dinner, anyone?). 

I was really, really excited to go on the mural tour. But, as soon as I got onto the trolley I began to have misgivings. Unfortunately, it was difficult to physically see the murals. As we learned by looking at the restorative justice mural up close (versus the picture on Barb's PPT) there is so much detail that really transforms and adds to the meaning of the art. I felt handicapped not being able to see that detail. Riding in a trolley through some poorer neighborhoods of Philly also felt particularly awkward. Not only were we blatantly advertising our tourism of the neighborhood, but the tour guide encouraged us to "wave to everyone" which made the fact that we didn't belong even more obvious. This feeling of foreignness encouraged me to think about who the murals are really for. Are they for the tourists who go to see them? This question was extremely relevant as we passed this mural:   

     Sitting next to the pond behind Rhodes made me a little homesick for Vermont. Tonight, the air isn't heavy like it's been lately, and much less sweet like it's been after the rain. The day before I left my homestate a friend and I hiked up to a clearing in the Appalachian Trail to stargaze. We had forgotten to bring his blanket from his car, so we had to deal with sitting on the wet grass. We must have sat there for hours, talking about the huge leap we were both about to take, and listening to the frogs in the pogue. The view from the pond behind Rhodes reminded me of this scene, and as I reminisced this last meeting, I couldn't help but feel nostalgiac for my home. Where I live, I can step out the door and I'm surrounded by green, and the piney smell that accompanies it. Hiking the trails behind my home has become a ritual that I enjoy; I find that I'm immediately happier once I can get away from the business of my day. Sitting in my "spot" tonight had a similar effect--it offered a hiatus from the stress of everyday life as a Bryn Mawr College student. Not to say that I don't love my life here, but I wouldn't be lying if I said that constantly working, running, and studying hasn't taken its toll on me. Lying on the damp grass and listening to the frogs in the pond brought me back to Vermont for a while, a retreat that I was surprised to find I needed. 

This is a photo of the pogue. I usually run on the trails that surround the glacial pool. 

As I sat near the mood bench observing the green, steam was forcing itself out of my ears. The sky seemed blacker than ever. Even the bright lights seemed to darken my vision. I was in a bad mood. Nothing that I would normally do was helping. The sound of the crickets in the trees slowly, ever so slowly calmed me down. Just to be away from people. Just to once not feel like I was under a magnify glass when there is a whole world out there. A whole world where love exists and nature is a main component to life. As I was writing my third paper this weekend I thought about how our experiences are entangled pictures that all eventually define us as human beings. And as we experience life and the enviroment around us and take the time to do just that, its calming. By the end of my observation time, I felt more calm. I could bare all of lifes consequences and unfairness by just taking the time to stop and be away from people. This time alone has given me a new perspective on the word nature and life. I will remember this particular evening to calm the nerves and anxieties of life.

Hey guys, here is a link for the album where I uploaded the photos I took yesterday! Feel free to share and download them. The password to access it is serendip .

http://s749.beta.photobucket.com/user/sharaai/library/Mural%20Arts%20Tour%20and%20Eastern%20State%20with%20360

As some of you know, Sharaai and I worked with an organization called Shining Hope for Communities this summer, teaching at a free school for girls.  Some of you have noticed our bags and bracelets, which we brought back from Kenya.  These bags and bracelets are made by women in Kibera (the area we worked in) who are HIV positive.  They sell these bags and bracelets as their source of income.  Some of you have asked about these products and so we're going to bring them to class Tuesday and sell in the ten minutes before Jody's class begins (12:45-12:55) and after Anne's class ends (after 3:45).  Bags are $20, bracelets are $5.  

Here is the organizations website and a few pictures of our time there (yes, I am trying to bribe you with the girls' cuteness):

As I have been reading my classmates posts about our field trip yesterday, I find myself agreeing with everyone and all the comments on their postings- the problem is a lot of what people are saying are in someway contradictory, so it is hard for me to understand how I agree with everyone.  I keep reminding myself that nothing is black and white and that my mixed feelings are reasonable. While we were on the tour, it reminded me of when I was in Kenya and would see white people going on slum tours and how upset it made me feel; part of me feels the two situations are very different, given that the level of disparity is so much less, but part of my knows it would not have come to mind if the similarities were not there.  Our guide was an especially interesting person to me.  I believe he and the organization he represents are extremely well intentioned, however sometimes good intentions go awry.  For example, when we were looking at the victim mural and someone drove by blasting loud music our guide said "someone needs to get that guy a paint brush!"   I believe this tour guide cared deeply for the community, and really wanted the best for the people living there.  However, I wonder if his method, and the methods of this Mural Arts organization are constraining and restricting to some.  Who is to say if loudly playing music is more or less helpful than painting a mural.  Who is to say that murals are better than street art?  Also, I wonder why he wanted us to wave at everyone?

Blazing heat grazing my skin. Then sudden coldness, the hairs on my arms standing up. And repeat. Countless times. I am at the cloisters and I am listening to the Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone soundtrack on my MP3 player. The sounds of "Hedwig's Theme" flutter through my earphones, first softly, then powerfully, as I take a deep breath of fresh air. The blanket I am sitting on prevents me from touching the grass, but I can still feel it under the blanket with my hands and bare feet. There is a soft breeze coming from some unknown place, welcome when the sun is out, unwanted when gray clouds cover the sky and a chill runs through my bones. Although I am a person that generally likes the cold and cloudy, today I feel grateful for the sun and warmth, for it was more inviting than my stuffy room. Being out in the open gives me a clear head and focus, helping me with my task at hand: self-guided meditation and purposeful muscle relaxation. I have been so stressed out this whole past week that I have rarely had the time to stop and take a cleansing breath to relax. Therefore, I decided that when I visited the cloisters this week I would focus on unwinding from the busy week and spend some time on myself. Even though the course is titled 'Ecological Imaginings' and it may not necessarily immediate allude to paying attention to oneself, I feel that I am just as an important part of the environment and the ecosystem that we call 'Bryn Mawr' as any bird, squirrel, insect, or plant.

Feeling of being

alone in a place lined with

sectioned window panes.

Woman walks across

with a book in her small hands

and sits close to me.

I cannot pretend 

to be alone anymore

my breath isn't free.

She snaps a photo

in the dusk and dying light

could it be of me?

Air is crisp and still

sky is blue like winter ice

earth has brought autumn.

The woman has left

As we stopped to visit the healing walls on the mural tour yesterday, I was surprised by my reaction to the offender wall. I think it was the combination of the music coming from the community service event across the street and the large exposed grass area in front of the mural that somehow made it much more appealing to me. The mural itself was more exposed than the victim mural and I felt a rush of sadness come over me as I took the time to understand the color scheme in the mural. I think the thing that I found myself really focusing on was the distant memories of families that were painted on the far bottom left corner. When most people think about offenders, they are are overwhelmed by images of their crime and thier feelings of vengence that they forget about the families they leave behind, and how much of the consequence and effect of committing a crime is really seen in the families of the offenders. As a society we focus on the victims of crime and neglect the offender, by which I mean we focus on helping the victims heal by attaching negative attention to offenders. But, as we have seen in our vision class, the definiton of victim becomes really obscure when we add the social context out of which both victims and offenders come from. When a member of a community is incarcerated that community including the family becomes more and more disenfranchised.