More Zora Neale Hurston

I finished rereading (I mostly listened to it) Zora Neale Hurston's autobiography Dust Tracks on a Road. She is becoming one of my favorite authors. I must admit. There is a my side bias. A lot of Hurston's opinions align with mine. But still she is a great writer. Her writing is fun and fresh. Her personality leaps off the page at you. She's funny. She's serious. She's well informed. She's a critical thinker. And I think she's well understood, as in I think I know where she's coming from and her biases (somewhat).

I want to read more of her fiction next. Here are a couple excerpts from Dust Tracks Love, Love, Love and Prayer: the Cry of Weaknes. I made this reading list for a couple friends who probably won't read any of it, Zora Neale Hurston Reading List. And here is my reflection from Rereading Their Eyes Were Watching God.

Prayer: the Cry of Weakness

First off, I do not consider prayer a cry of weakness or anything negative. I'm sure it's possible that prayer may be negative for some people, but overall I assume prayer is a net positive.

Zora Neale Hurston has a chapter on religion in her autobiography Dust Tracks on a Road. She explains herself in greater detail in the 15th chapter titled "Religion." I recommend reading the whole chapter here if you're interested. 

Hurston, the daughter of a baptist preacher, grew up in church. But she was skeptical. When she learned of the world religions, she saw similar patterns. I didn't grow up with any religion nor church. And still, somehow, I didn't know belief in God was optional. God was so matter a factually spoken about, even by my biology teacher in high school, that I never considered questioning the existence of a God. But like Hurston, I was always skeptical of religions. When I learned of the world religions, the veil was pulled away.

Hurston and I may differ on God and metaphysics, but I really like her perspective and framing:

"I do not pretend to read God's mind. If He has a plan of the universe worked out to the smallest detail, it would be folly for me to presume to get down on my knees and attempt to revise it. That, to me, seems the highest form of sacrilege. So I do not pray. I accept the means at my disposal for working out my destiny. It seems to me that I have been given a mind and will-power for that very purpose. I do not expect God to single me out and grant me advantages over my fellow men. Prayer is for those who need it. Prayer seems to me a cry of weakness, and an attempt to avoid, by trickery, the rules of the game as laid down. I do not choose to admit weakness. I accept the challenge of responsibility. Life, as it is, does not frighten me, since I have made my peace with the universe as I find it, and bow to its laws. The ever-sleepless sea in its bed, crying out "How long?" to Time; million-formed and never motionless flame; the contemplation of these two aspects alone, affords me sufficient food for ten spans of my expected lifetime. It seems to me that organized creeds are collections of words around a wish. I feel no need for such. However, I would not, by word or deed, attempt to deprive another of the consolation it affords. It is simply not for me. Somebody else may have my rapturous glance at the archangels. The springing of the yellow line of morning out of the misty deep of dawn, is glory enough for me. I know that nothing is destructible; things merely change forms. When the consciousness we know as life ceases, I know that I shall still be part and parcel of the world. I was a part before the sun rolled into shape and burst forth in the glory of change. I was, when the earth was hurled out from its fiery rim. I shall return with the earth to Father Sun, and still exist in substance when the sun has lost its fire, and disintegrated in infinity to perhaps become a part of the whirling rubble in space. Why fear? The stuff of my being is matter, ever changing, ever moving, but never lost; so what need of denominations and creeds to deny myself the comfort of all my fellow men? The wide belt of the universe has no need for finger-rings. I am one with the infinite and need no other assurance."

Love, Love, Love

Love was a huge milestone in my life. I was 27 years old. It generated greater emotions than I had ever known (here is a small sample of that 27 year old in love). The highest highs when together followed by the lowest lows when apart. It's a distant memory now. But after rereading Zora Neale Hurston's autobiography Dust Tracks on a Road, my suspicion is that there is something to Hurston's suspicion. We cannot go back to who we were before we loved. 

From Hurston:

"I have a strong suspicion, but I can't be sure, that much that passes for constant love is a golded-up moment walking in its sleep. Some people know that it is the walk of the dead, but in desperation and desolation, they have staked everything on life after death and the resurrection, so they haunt the graveyard. They build an altar on the tomb and wait there like faithful Mary for the stone to roll away. So the moment has authority over all of their lives. They pray constantly for the miracle of the moment to burst its bonds and spread out over time.

But pay no attention to what I say about love, for as I said before, it may not mean a thing. It is my own bathtub singing. Just because my mouth opens up like a prayer book, it does not just have to flap like a Bible. And then again, anybody whose mouth is cut cross-ways is given to lying, unconsciously as well as knowingly. So pay my few scattering remarks no mind as to love in general. I know only my part.

Anyway, it seems to be the unknown country from which no traveler ever returns. What seems to be a returning pilgrim is another person born in the strange country with the same-looking ears and hands. He is a stranger to the person who fared forth, and a stranger to family and old friends. He is clothed in mystery henceforth and forever. So, perhaps nobody knows, or can tell, any more than I."

Star Wars Episode III Revenge of the Sith Extended Edition

I listened to and really liked this book, The World According to Star Wars, over summer and now I am finally rewatching Star Wars Episodes 1-6. A few friends and I are discussing, mostly arguing, about them on whatsapp.

I just finished Episode II Attack of the Clones. I'm going to make an extended watch list for Episode III Revenge of the Sith that included the best from the animations. Here it is in order:

Tales of the Jedi:

• "Justice" S01E02
• "Choices" S01E03
• "The Sith Lord" S01E04
• "Practice Makes Perfect" S01E05 why Ahsoka is a badass!
  

Here is a fan edit combining the following in one chronological narrative:

• Clone Wars The Siege of Mandalore S07E09-E12
• Star Wars Episode III Revenge of the Sith

I'm excited to watch this extended version of RotS.

Zora Neale Hurston Reading List

My Background

I read Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston several years ago because it was one of my good friend's favorite book. I loved the opening paragraphs and used it as a writing sample many times as a teacher. In fact here it is:

"Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men.

Now, women forget all those things they don’t want to remember, and remember everything they don’t want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly."

That opening struck me. I've reread it many times. Overall, I liked the book when I first read it, but didn't love it.

As a teacher, I also used Hurston's essay "How It Feels to be Colored Me." It's a fun and engaging read. Students liked it and it sparked great classroom discussions. Hurston's perspective is refreshing. She's funny. She refuses to be a victim. She refuses to be held down or back.

Years later, I came across Hurston's autobiography, Dust Tracks on a Road. I really liked it, and I'm looking forward to rereading it soon.

Now, being more familiar with Hurston, I recently reread Their Eyes Were Watching God. I loved it, click here for my reflection. Rereading Their Eyes lead me to a collection of Hurston's essays titled You Don't Know Us Negroes and Other Essays. I really liked this collection too. Like Hurston's autobiography, it provides a lot of commentary that is very relevant today while also highlighting the differences between the early and mid twentieth century and the early twenty-first century.

Introduction

I have two friends who created a bell hooks versus Thomas Sowell death match in my mind. Hurtson can take them both. In one friends' language, Hurston experienced for more intersectional discrimination than bell hooks. Hurston grew up in the Jim Crow south. Her love for education, writing, and stories motivated her to rise above the imperialist white supremacist capitalist patriarchy. She wondered and found her way to Harlem during the Harlem Renaissance, through Howard University. She was a free spirit and thinker. She wouldn't give up writing and working for any of her three husbands, all divorced.

And still, in the other friends' language, Hurston was a constrained thinker. She talked about a feminism very much constrained to her place in time. Her revealed preferences prove her faith in black people. She saw and predicted the failures of Brown v Board. She worried about the victimization of black people. She was critical of what she called the "Race man" and "Race Champions." She was critical of Communism and the NAACP. She was loyal to facts over feelings. And she believed in individuals:

“I do not share the gloomy thought that Negroes in America are doomed to be stomped out. We will go where the internal drive carries us like everybody else. It is up to the individual.”

Reading List

For a quick sample read "How It Feels to be Colored Me." Hurston's autobiography is excellent. Most of the essays below are included in You Don't Know Us Negroes and Other Essays. After you fall for Hurston and her writing read Their Eyes Were Watching God!

• "How It Feels to be Colored Me" (personal essay)
  
• "The Last Slave Ship" (historical, predates Barracoon)
  
• "High John de Conquer" (folklore)
• "My People, My People" (essay)
• "Seeing the World as It Is" (essay)
  
• "You Don't Know Us Negroes" (essay)
  
• "Art and Such" (essay)
  
• "Crazy for This Democracy" (essay) (for Drew)
• "The Characteristics of Negro Expression" (linguistics essay) (for Forrest)
• Their Eyes Were Watching God (Novel)
• Dust Tracks on a Road (autobiography)

I'm going to check out a collection of her letters next. Then I want to read her "The Eatonville Anthology." After that I want to try more of her fiction.

A Photo from Half a Life Ago

I finished The Good Life today. It's well worth a read or listen. It offers practical advice with the science to support the main claim that having good relationships is the healthiest choice that humans can make/control, more impactful than diet or exercise.

I might turn a couple more of the exercises from the book into blog posts. Here is the first one:

Find a photo when you were half of your current age.

Pre Prompt Reflection

I don't remember any of my photos that I found where I was about half my age. I turn 41 years old soon. I know roughly what photos I was 19-20 years. Many of my 19-20 year old photos I'm shirtless, not snailing, and or drinking. I can't specifically recall any of the photos' moments.

I remember hating wearing shirts. I don't know why and I finally grew out of that phase in my 30s. I still enjoy running without a shirt on a sunny day, but otherwise I prefer to at least have a tank top even when it is hot.

For the not smiling, maybe I was trying to be tough or serious. I wasn't smiling in most of the photos I could find. I don't recall any reason for that. I feel like I always smile for photos, but it's clear I wasn't for at least a couple years. 

Half my life ago is very distant from me. Someday this present moment will be as distant as the photo I'm about to reflect on.

Prompt

1. Find a photo of yourself when you were when half as old as you are now. 
2. Take a close look at yourself in the photo.
3. Place yourself back in that moment when the photo was taken.
4. Spend several minutes. Remember and consider:
   
1. the era of your life,
   
2. what you were thinking,
3. what you were worried about,
4. what you were hopeful about,
5. what you were planning,
6. where and who you spent your time with,
7. what was most important to you then.
8. when you think of yourself at that time, what do you regret?
5. Reflect in as much detail as you'd like.

My Photo

My Reflection

I have zero confidence in what I was thinking at the time. As I mentioned above, I feel so distant from my younger self. I know I would relate and understand myself well. But that specific time, the summer of July 2003, I can't recall. I could capture my mindset a lot closer in 2002 or 2004, but 2003 seems like a blank transition. I'll finish my reflection in the prompt order.

1. I was home on leave after a 11 month deployment to Okinawa, Japan. We were extended 5 months due to the invasion of Iraq. I was 20 years old. I probably knew my unit was going to Iraq soon. I was recently prompted to Corporal which was a big goal of mine. I even more recently got in trouble for going to Mexico without permission. My buddy and I were so drunk, we couldn't make it back across the US board. We were detained boarder patrol and our unit was notified. This was a great embarrassment to me after my recent promotion. And an even greater defiance of my new first sergeant, who specifically verified that we were not allowed and weren't going to Mexico that weekend.
2. In the photo, at that moment, I have no clue what I was thinking. I think my brother and cousin drove me back to base. So this picture could have been days to hours before we left. I'm probably laughing because taking this photo probably created some type of argument. In general, I was close to being half way done with my service. I was growing more and more disseminated with the military each day. I'm sure drinking, partying, and working out were on my mind a lot. I had read Lance Armstrong's book when I was 19 or 20. That book had a large impact on me. It inspired my tattoo of never quitting. I believed I was in control of my life. It was up to me. Yes. That was it. Young, dumb, and over confident in my ability to control my destiny, yet under confident in other areas.
   
3. Even less of a clue than the last response. I'm sure I wasn't worried enough or much about anything. I might have been worried about missing out on my life due to the lack of freedom as a member of the military.
4. I probably wanted to go to Iraq. I'm sure I was hoping to see and engage in combat.
5. Not sure. I wasn't thinking about colleges yet. There wasn't going to be any promotions in sight. Probably Iraq.
6. I had been home on leave hanging out with my friends and family. My cousin and brother were driving me back to base. Then life on base was hanging out with and living with my peers. Almost all my time was spent with my best friends in supply. We ate together, worked together, hung out together, drank together. It's more time than you'll ever spend with the same people again. I've never spent so much time with anyone else over a three year period. Maybe my parents before I started school, but even then my parents worked.
   
7. Probably running and working out when sober and on base. Getting drunk and having fun when off base.
8. In hindsight, I drank way too much. I wasted a lot of my free time on an activity I gained close to nothing from. A lot of risky behaviors and feeling like crap. It's hard to really regret it because I didn't know any better. That was part of my path to here. I regret not having better influences. I regret needing to drink to feel the level of outgoingness I preferred. Too bad I didn't read Into the Wild. That book may have reached me.