Class Summary.

  I started this class with the expectation of suffering through boring books full of out of date language rambling about the happenings of the past, only to have my expectations shredded, turned into confetti, and thrown in my face. With the guidance of Professor Sexson, I was taken on a journey discovering the past and discovering myself. Every time I learned something new it felt as though a light was turned on somewhere in the dark that beckoned me to the next doorway. Not only were the things I was learning applicable to my everyday life, but they were incredibly fun! The assignments and atmosphere in class were pleasant and encouraging. Not only was the educational leadership astounding, but the classmates along my side were nothing but encouraging and intelligent.
  I have learned to listen, dig deeper, and get to the bottom of the iceberg in every possible situation. I have realized that sometimes a painful initiation is a good thing and is only designed to make us grow as humans in a society. I have even been humbled by unexpected successes and failures through the course of my semester. Ultimately, this will go down in my history book as one of the most influential classes of my undergraduate career.
  Thank you Professor, you will be greatly missed!

If I could teach you, teacher,
I'd teach you how much more
you have accomplished
than you think you have.
I'd show you the seeds
you planted years ago
that are now coming into bloom.
I'd reveal to you the young minds
that have expanded under your care,
the hearts that are serving others
because they had you as a role model.
If I could teach you, teacher,
I'd show you the positive effect
you have had on me and my life.
Your homework is
to know your value to the world,
to acknowledge it, to believe it.
Thank you

By Joanna Fuchs

My Life as a Mythic Detective.

  Why do we come to universities or colleges? Having grown up in a comfortable middle class family in rural Washington, I was brought up to never question me attending a university. It was expected of me, and I happily accepted this destiny. I blindly subscribed to the idea that by going to college, I would gain an education and a useful set of skills that would catapult me into a lucrative career. Once having attained said career I would delve into it and it would be my passion in life, my purpose. Coming from an old town with old fashion ideas, I believed that after my purpose had been found, I would be happy. Obviously this excited me, and I quickly fell headlong into a dark cycle.
  
  After the initial newness of college wore off, I found myself simply going through the motions. I passionlessly completed assignment after assignment. Despite my love for art history, I found little joy in memorization without context and failed to see any relevancy to my actions. I kept trying to focus on my dream job of museum curation, because that would to make me happy once I got there, right? I attempted to convince myself that all I had to do was make it through the next few years of school, get hired somewhere fantastic, and let the happiness and passion I was missing come down like rain. Despite my efforts, you can only fool yourself for so long. My lack of interest in learning led to overall apathy that grew into bitterness that swiftly turned into depression. This depression took its toll on me mentally which led to physical damage with serious and possibly permanent consequences. After sporadic hospital visits, I would emerge "healthy" again. I felt like my life was centered around a self assigned punishment akin to that of Sisyphus. Getting back to healthy and happy was like pushing that boulder up the mountain, and it seemed that every time I reached the summit, the boulder would crash down the other side taking me with it. I began to resemble Hecuba, my actions speaking to the emotion that bruised my heart, always asking "Why do I live through these long days that have no end but night"?
  
  With my personal idea of life's purpose seeming more and more bleak and pointless, I actively pushed people away that dared to get closer than small talk. Despite the choice exile, I did not enjoy sitting there alone and brooding, so I once again delved into my schoolwork. While I thought that this was simply the start of another Sisyphus-esque cycle, I trudged on. I once again went through Ovid's Metamorphoses among other books with no obvious sign of anything out of the norm…until a few days later.  On a random Sunday afternoon, I was sitting with some friends, relaxing. I was only half listening when I heard one girl start to talk about spiders and how she loved the webs they weave, before I knew it was was telling the story of Arachne and Athena. I was engaged in the act of story telling, loving the feeling of involvement and reveling in the joy that came from possessing a deeper understanding than most.
  
  Slowly this started to happen more and more frequently. I found myself becoming engaged in life and actively seeking out mythic occurrences. My heart skipped a beat with every coincidence between life and fable I found. This made me thirst for education in a way that I didn't think I could! I began to feel happier with each piece of applicable knowledge I gained. I began to compare myself to Pygmalion, the Paphos I was sculpting was myself! I yearned for breath and warmth to come back to me, and it was at that point that I went and got help for myself.
  
  Unknowingly, I had become the hero in my personal epic. Gradually I had faced my challenges, growing through each trial. I realize that I am still in the abyss and that larger challenges await, but I am more excited by the metamorphoses they will bring and finally having this particular veil lifted from my eyes. I never thought that my version of a Mythic Detective would mean using myth as a means to investigate myself and assist in my adventure to happiness.
 
  Professor Sexson always talks about our elders and realizing their beauty, and in a way, these myths serve as our elders in many ways. Through the simple act of turning a page, these stories and characters whisper in our ear, telling us fables and relaying lessons that transcend centuries, they take your hand and pull you along for adventure, whether you realize you've embarked on one or not. If you listen, they can even teach you about yourself. I am learning that a person's purpose is what they choose. I choose to learn, discover, experience, and above all, LIVE! This is my young life as a Mythic Detective. 

Iceberg Ahead!

   I think it is safe to say that pretty much everybody has heard the phrase "Life is like an iceberg, most of the important stuff is under the surface". I had always attributed this saying to people meaning that all the things that make up a humans attitude and personality were inside their head, not just their appearance. This attribution might be a good one that is obviously applicable, I did not realize that there are philosophical arguments that say this also works for life and education.
  Throughout the course of the Mythology class, I have learned that every action has a precedent behind it that is most likely mythological in nature (like wiping your eyes on your apron). Upon further investigation, I found a Socratic idea that is similar to the iceberg principle. Socrate's believes in something called anamnesis. The basic tenants are that everything that we know as an individual and as a species is already known to us, all we have to do is rediscover that knowledge. The way that this could happen deals with the idea of a soul. Everyone has a soul that is eternal and has be reincarnated though time into different people. This soul is constantly learning and retaining everything that has happened to it, so therefore, all the knowledge through the ages is already inside us. The reason that we cannot remember the information is because at birth, the initial shock startles us into forgetting. With this in mind, the process of learning is really a process of rediscovering what is "under the surface" already. Socrates saw himself as a midwife aiding in the birth of knowledge that is already in the student, instead of a teacher.
   I found this to be very interesting and I really enjoyed re-learning about it!

The Death of Socrates, 1787, Oil on Canvas, Jacques-Louis David

Death: The Creator of Beauty.

 

Beata Ludovica Albertoni, 1671-74, Marble, Gian Lorenzo Bernini

   Throughout the progression of Professor Sexson's Mythology class, he has said many times that we should cherish those who are elderly, because they won't be here for long. The fact that they are at the sunset of their time is what makes them beautiful. This always gave me a melancholy sense of happiness and made me think. If an object or a being cannot perish, then there is little to no beauty in them. (This is why we do not marvel at artificial flowers). So after hearing this and coming to this conclusion, I think it is fair to say that beauty can only grow as the years progress. With each passing day, and individuals value grows exponentially. A persons true beauty is never realized until it cannot be experienced anymore.

Just like the dahlia
Death comes in all its beauty

And so I stroke her petals
Push my feet root-deep
Into the composted soil
As weary clouds unite
Coalesce
Darken through the greys
In preparation

Incontinence prevails
Lachrymose in empathy

They cry for me
Sharing tears
Mortality brings
As twilight closes

I rot
(They fade)

To be the plant
(They'll water)

Struggle thro' my fantasy
To seal the state of mind

That I of soul
Remain eternal

Back on the windowsill
A daffodil stretches
From a bulbous foot

Flirts like a ballerina

STOPS

Wonders of the world

My cat hears the brassy thoughts
From yellow trumpet
Pricks up his ears
Iridescent eyes
Focussed on the future

I'll wait
For his appraisal

-Mark Slaughter 

On A Random Note.

    I cannot deny that I have thoroughly enjoyed reading Ovid's Metamorphoses. The stories are full of beautiful imagery, wonderful morals, and entertaining anecdotes that make for an extremely captivating read. Aside from all of these wonderful attributes, there is one more thing that these myths are full of, and sadly that is rape. Yep, I said it. RAPE. I know that this topic makes some people uncomfortable, but the gratuitous amounts of sexual assault in this book make me uncomfortable. Honestly, I do not think that a single book in the Metamorphoses passes without some act of dominance over women. Here is a short list of women raped in Ovid's Metamorphoses:
-Europa
-Caenis
-Proserpina
-Calisto
-Herse
-Leda
The list is longer than this, but you get the point. In this book, many of the women are described as virginal, virtuous, and above all, beautiful. The beauty of these women seem to prove too much for the gods to handle, and they simply cannot keep it in their pants...or toga...whatever it is. I think I would be a little less riled up about this if the gods faced some form of punishment for their actions, but that never seems to happen. In a cruel twist to these stories, it normally ends up with the woman being punished or exiled...after being raped. Shall we kick them a little more while they are down?
   Now, I do understand that these stories are hundreds of years old so I fully accept my lack of ability to change anything about them. The only thing that makes me a bit sad is the fact that they almost normalize rape, and that is something that has carried over into today's society. It had to start somewhere right? In today's media and social circles, there is something that has been dubbed "Rape Culture". It pretty much means that people normalize and down-play rape or even make it out to be the victims fault. This can be clearly seen in the Steubenville rape case. ( I have attached links to a blog that makes valid points about the media coverage and a link to CNN's disgraceful coverage of the court's rulings).
  The only reason I am blogging about this is because I feel like there was not an appropriate amount of discussion concerning this in class. I mean, the rape of women are central points in stories that formed an entire culture! I think that it lends itself to a conversation. Well that is my random rant. Take it as you will.
Great Video Blog
CNN's coverage on the issue.

 The Rape of Proserpina, 1621-22, Marble, Gian Lorenzo Bernini

We All Get "It", In The End.

"I sat in the dark and thought: There is no big apocalypse.

Just an endless procession of little ones."

-Neil Gaiman

  Being a young American woman, it probably comes as no surprise that I was inundated with Christian ideals and teachings beginning at a very young age. I can remember many of the Sunday school lectures I attended when I was an adolescent girl, and most of them were quite pleasant and full of songs about Jesus loving me and a "little light" that was apparently in my possession. All in all, the overall experience was quite happy and enjoyable...until one day. I still recall the day when the youth pastor started to talk about hell and the apocalypse. To say that scare tactics were used liberally is a gross understatement. As the pastor talked, images of fire, chaos, and panic in the street filled my impressionable mind. I held onto these ideas about the "end of times" until my late teens (even though I had left the church years before). 

   When the newest apocalyptic craze bubbled up (Mayan 2012) I have to admit, with some shame, that I was slightly concerned. Obviously 2012 came to pass quite quietly and with no evidence of hellfire and damnation as far as I could tell. Despite this, my ideas about the apocalypse did not change at all. It wasn't until Professor Sexson said something profound (in my mind), that my ideas flipped a complete 180. The professor said that, when you trace the idea of an apocalypse back to its origins, it roughly means to "remove the veil" from one's eyes or the disclosure of knowledge. 

  It was at that moment that something clicked within my mind: Life is made up of tiny apocalypses, some occur within a few months and others from day to day. They are nothing to be afraid of, but something to embrace. With the conclusion of each day, class, semester, and year, the "Fallon" of yesterday dies and a new emerges. Layers and layers of veils are slowly being lifted from my eyes and I can only hope that this process continues. 

 The Veiled Virgin, year unknown, Marble, Giovanni Strazza 

The Forbidden Fruit is Poison. Tasty Poison.

  Everybody has been a child and understands that innate burning desire for knowledge that accompanies youth. Many of us have gotten ourselves into trouble by snooping in and around things that we had been told not too. Despite the ever prevalent fear of punishment, why do we actively question things we are told not too and open doors we have been ordered to keep closed? Moreover, what are we expecting to discover, and is it worth the repercussions that we might have to endure? 

   There have been many stories through time that warn us about the dangers of defying orders in the pursuit of knowledge. In Ovid's Metamorphoses there is the story of Actaeon and his plight when he stumbles upon Diana bathing with her nymphs. Despite being told to look away, the foolish boy does not avert his eyes, and for his disobedience, Diana turns him into a stag. Shortly after his transformation, his hunting crew kills him and only once he had suffered tremendously was Diana appeased.  Another story many are familiar with is the tale of Pandora and her box. Pandora was a woman the Grecian gods created. They bestowed Pandora with many gifts such as beauty, speech, and curiosity. Among these gifts, Zeus gave her an exquisite container and ordered her not to open it. Unfortunately curiosity overcame Pandora and she removed the lid. Once the lid had been removed, all of the evils that plague men came swarming out, forever punishing mankind. Now, to venture into some Christian mythology. I can guarantee that almost everyone is familiar with the story of Adam and Eve. "God" created Adam and Eve and placed them in the Garden of Eden which contained everything necessary to sustain them. God told his creations that they were allowed to eat from anything in the garden except for the tree in the center, for if they did, they would be punished with mortality. Eve ventured out and after some urging from a sly serpent, she ate the forbidden fruit and so did Adam. They ate this fruit despite the looming threat of death because the serpent said that it would give them the gift of knowledge. Adam and Eve gave up immortality for the sake of knowing. 

   All three of these stories have three things in common: Curiosity, Defiance, and Punishment. The punishment for knowledge seems to involve death in each of the tales, but that raises the question: Is knowledge worth death? Being only 20 years old, I do not think I am qualified to present a definitive answer to this question, so all I have to go on is my opinion. 

  I believe that knowledge is completely worth the threat of punishment and death. Many people throw around the saying that "ignorance is bliss", but I could not disagree more. Ignorance is simply ignorance. If, as a population, we did not strive to educate ourselves we would end up as opinion-less automatons marching through a haze of blind obedience. Personally, I do not want that as a life. If ignorance is bliss, it is a shallow and falsely won victory. Without the awareness and experience of suffering, how could we recognize what happiness truly is? Speaking for myself, I would rather take a big, juicy bite out of the forbidden fruit that is education. 

 Adam and Eve, 17th century, Oil on Canvas, Peter Paul Rubens