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https://www.elevators.com/8vc6xxcm by Julie Allgyer
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https://mocicc.org/agricultura/tepqao8079
follow Democritus seems to be the earliest philosopher on record to have categorically embraced a hedonistic philosophy; he called the supreme goal of life “contentment” or “cheerfulness”, claiming that “joy and sorrow are the distinguishing mark of things beneficial and harmful” (DK 68 B 188)
watch The first time I recall interacting with Ben, we were sitting at dinner. Someone around us was helping along introductions among the group. “How would you describe yourself?” was the question. Some responded in terms of their goals. Some related their places of origin or where they attended school before entering the law program.
https://alldayelectrician.com/amdfj9b “Brown. I’m brown, with curly hair, ” Ben responded. His face conveyed someone who was fairly comfortable with himself, and as he looked around the group those who heard his retort laughed readily. He laughed too, and the conversation moved on to other things.
The second time I spoke with Ben, I was walking across campus through one quod to the next. I greeted him with a congratulatory comment: “Hey – I really appreciate your questions in EU class. They’re helpful and they make me think.” Ben’s smile broke out showing grand rows of straight white teeth, and with a twinkle in his eye, he raised his hand for a high five.
So, I responded by giving him a rather resounding high five. We exchanged a couple more sentences then went our separate ways.
The third time I spoke with Ben was based upon the prompting of his peers. I strolled into the dining hall toward the end of last night’s diner, approached the first group I saw and asked, “If I were going to interview someone in the program for my blog, who would you suggest?”
“Ben,” they immediately responded. “Definitely Ben.”
“Well, that was pretty easy,” I thought.
I located Ben at the next table, proposed the idea, and he agreed. “Right now?” he asked. “Sure,” I replied. “Now is as good as any other time.”
We walked to our lecture room. Ben filled his glass from the plastic bottle of Cabernet Savignon he had purchased for dinner, kicked his feet up and said, “All right. What do you want to know?”
After I had covered the, “Do you want your name in the post? Is it okay to identify you?,” business I then began a comfortable volley of questions, responses, follow ups, and insights. Twenty minutes later a few friends wandered in. “What are you doing?” they asked with curiosity. They joined the group, filled in a bit of the conversation on their own, drained the glasses they had in tow, and headed to the pub to refill them.
Fifteen minutes later I was done. I took Ben’s picture, and we then headed down to the pub for “Quiz Night.”
Why did I want to interview someone for the program for my travel journal? I think I wanted to get another perspective. I’m a minority demographic. I’m a 46 year-old doctoral student. The majority demographic is a 25-30ish student between their first and second years in the program. I wanted to see what “they” thought. I’m usually pretty clear on what “I” think.
Here are a few things I learned about Ben:
He’s a self-described Hedonist, raised by his mother who is a medical doctor. Much of his family is in the D.C. area, so when Obama was sworn in last year, “all he needed was the gas money to get there.” He ‘wasn’t going to miss that for the world.’
He and I talked quite a bit about the “drinking culture” of the law community. Our professor had mentioned, during a discussion about equal rights, how it might be difficult for a working mother picking up her child from an early learning center to be included in the “deals and decisions” made in the pub after she left. I asked Ben if he agreed with the opinion I had heard from one student about feeling occasional pressure to participate in the drinking so as to be included in the networking and the camaraderie seemingly endorsed and even encouraged by the faculty. He said he could definitely understand their opinion, and then told me that lawyers have the “highest suicide rate, the highest alcoholism rate, and the highest divorce rate,” of any other profession. We broke that comment down for a while, then moved on.
I asked Ben if he was glad he decided to come to this particular summer conference. He said yes, talked about his rationale for financing the trip, and then we talked about student loans and Graduate Plus loans for a bit. It seems that most of the students tried to get a loan of approximately 8-10,000 for this particular trip…and when it gets down to it, some of their thinking might be, “Well – it’s 80,000 for law school, OR 89,000 for law school plus the Oxford trip. In the broad scope of things, that doesn’t seem to make a lot of difference.”
Initially Ben responded to the question, “Why are you in law?” by answering, “For the money.” But a bit later, I could see an activist brewing under his law student fascade. He wonders about statutes that don’t seem fair and wishes that there were opportunities to rally a group and go lobby the legislative branch to change things. And, although the standard form of instruction in a typical law school is the Socratic method, our EU class has raised his interest a bit because the majority of class isn’t spent on the readings, per se, but on a discussion that enhances or exemplifies the readings.
Ben seems to be empathetic to his group. He’s encouraged his classmates to speak out in class, and muses about the, “What if people other than the eight that always comment starting opening up and adding to the discussions?” idea. This thought process is inherently democratic and shows he feels for the group, and wants them all to benefit from the experience. And…it may show that he wants the professor to hear as many different voices as possible…in essence, showcasing the group’s acumen.
Finally, when I asked him how he would describe his program, he produced these three comments: 1) It’s a fairly socially conservative program; 2) They focus on getting you a job; and 3) the community is fairly tight-knit…there are 600 in law school and by the time you finish your three years, you basically know most all who are there.
When I reflected back to him that it seems that he was describing the State of Oklahoma as much as anything, he agreed….community, stability and socially right of center. I think at that point, we had sort of a “meeting of the minds” that you get what you ask for, and you take from it what you can.
Although Ben emphatically stated that he’s not all that great of a writer, he also mentioned with a certain sense of pride that his Moot Court team came out 7th place of the 200 students who entered the competition. He wants to be a litigator; he wants to convince someone of his case by oral argument.
I would say that if Ben stays positive like he is right now, if he keeps his optimism and smile, and if he gives the jurists or the judge an occasional resounding “high five,” he’ll have all the money he wants…and he’ll make quite a statement in the courts of the future on behalf of his clients.
I’m kidding, of course, about the high fives. But I’m not kidding about his ability to persuade.
After all, last night during our interview, Ben persuaded me to appreciate who he is and what he stands for, and when I think about it – there’s not a whole lot that we really have in common at all.
Except, for the fact, that maybe we like to raise questions of the professor in class.
My brother travels outside of the continental U.S. quite a bit, and every once in a while he mentions something along the lines of, “It might be good if you go see that place soon, before the tourism footprint destroys what’s there – or they close it to keep the place preserved.” These conversations were regarding various places in South America, India and few other destinations. Based upon my experience here, however, I would say they hold true for areas within the UK as well.
As I’ve walked around Oxford on my daily strolls, I sometimes hesitate as I begin to take a stair case or a step into a building. When I look down to place my foot in a solid position, I consistently notice that there is a sagging dip in the stone or concrete. This isn’t a design flaw and the steps aren’t sinking…they’re worn down from millions of other footsteps walking in the same place, day after day.
The sidewalks of High Street in Oxford are so crowded that it seems like you are occasionally swimming upstream to go somewhere when all others you meet are headed in the opposite direction. It was this way in London as well. And in Bristol. And in Bath. And at Stonehenge.
I think there are a combination of factors in play: it’s summer, it’s “backpacking season,” it’s sporting event season (World Cup, Tour de France, Wimbledon), etc. However, the locals say that it’s like this most all the time. Everywhere you turn, individuals, couples, families, groups of students…are all weilding their cameras, taking the same pictures of the same places. They get the shot ready…wait for one, two, ten or twenty people to walk by, and then…”click!” They get it, right before a tour bus drives in front of their view….or not. I’m sure there are many a shot that end up looking sometime like this (the side of a tour bus):
Here is a little movie of a street entertainer who was in a public square in Bath. I don’t know if you can tell, but there’s quite a crowd. That crowd was there before the entertainer started, and remained after he was done….
This particular day in Bath, I had just about had it with crowds as it was the day after I was kept up until 3:30 a.m. with the noise on the street below my window in Oxford. I went into the Abbey there in search of a bit of peace and quiet. The line to see the Roman Baths was going to require a one hour and forty-five minute wait, so I thought, “Hang the baths – we’ve got two hours so I’m going to try and find some peace.” As I walked into the Abbey, I was met with a full choir of local women singing a concert. Normally, I would have enjoyed this little surprise. At that point, however, I was thinking, “Quiet! Everyone just go home, already!” Here’s a peak at the choir and the inside of the Abbey:
I watched them perform one song and then looked around for the exit. As I was headed out of the Abbey, I noticed a small chapel area. These are common in the Abbeys around here – the one in York had a chapel, a prayer area, a reading area…several places to have quiet time. A sign on the entrance to the chapel said, “Quiet please. We ask that you respect those who have stopped to pray.”
Ha! I thought, “Okay – I’ll go in the chapel, pray, and enjoy the quiet.” This is what my face looked like with two hours of sleep after a long day while attempting to pray in the chapel…
I was sitting there in the corner, with my head leaning back against the wall, eyes closed and hands folded in prayer. The women were singing pretty loudly. I concentrated harder. The next thing I hear is:
I got up, left the chapel and tried my best to take in the beauty of Bath and the interesting architecture, Masonic mysteries, the beautiful bridges, etc. Flash forward two days…
Tonight I was sitting at dinner with other students and I heard them complaining about the mounds of people in Oxford, and how they were having to give directions to “the tourists” all the time. I thought it was funny because we’re students, but we’re also tourists. I’ve felt the same way, and I wrestled for a bit with conflicting emotions thinking, “People here are thinking the same thing I’m complaining about others.”
My brother is right. We “tourists” have to do the Earth right and try to avoid impressing upon her face footprints that are irreparable. So, what have I done to find a peaceful place where I CAN hear my prayers in my mind as I send them to God? I decided to go on a search tonight for that elusive prize.
I walked out of the college stopping at our Brasenose Chapel. I peeked in, but the large brass birds of prey looking down on those entering gave me the creeps. I walked outside the college and for a moment saw a beautiful light in the sky just over St. Mary’s Cathedral.
It disappeared quickly, however, and the noises of those on the street at night took over.
As I went back inside and headed toward my dorm room, I saw two students whom I’ve befriended on the trip. One was having a discussion about being a ‘big believer in meritocracy…if people are nice to him, he’s nice to people…’ Another had broken her toe and was going to the doctor’s office tomorrow. I traded one a ten pound note for ten pounds in change, went to get a bottle of water out of the machine and returned to my room.
I think for me, I’m going to find my quiet when I get back home. However, I noticed that in the short time the two students and I had our short discussion, I had relaxed.
I guess, sometimes, it takes interacting with people to find “a point of stillness in the heart of the city.”
My first week here, I took a train to Bristol and noticed something not unlike the Willy Wonka Factory (circa – Gene Wilder) across a field as I neared my destination. I inquired about the factory while in a meeting, and was told it was an older Cadbury Chocolate Factory. I love it when things look like what they are. It was recently purchased by Kraft, and the locals wonder what will become of the outdated factory and previous ways the employees were treated.
I wasn’t aware until I began speaking with friends before I left that there are Cadbury treats galore simply unavailable to us in the states. One of these requested was the Crunchie bar. Another mentioned was the Cadbury Flake bar. Flash forward two weeks…
I ventured to the local cinema today and watched Toy Story 3. Prior to the show, the audience was graced with a bunch of commercials and the standard previews, suitable for children ages 4 and older. One of the commercials, or “adverts” as they call them here, was so artistic it still has my attention in spite of the wonderful movie. And…it was for a Cadbury Flake Bar. Go figure…
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“Sweet” dreams…Kelly
I feel like I’m beginning to find a rhythm.
Monday through Thursday, I study with a purpose. Fridays, I catch up on personal chores; things that didn’t get accomplished during school days. Then Saturday or Sunday I explore.
Today I visited the “Cotswold,” a geographic region of southeast central England known for it’s 400+ year old stone cottages, serene farmland views and a few other little dittys like Bath and Stonehenge.
The entire area is absolutely endearing and while I was looking for a way to do justice to this national treasure, I happened upon this excellent video. It tells the story better than I ever could, thus the “know when to fold ’em” title.
CLICK HERE FOR A TRIP THROUGH ALL FOUR SEASONS OF THE COTSWOLD
In case you’re looking around one day and I seem to have disappeared, it may be that I’m here. I’ve decided to buy this one. Hope you like it, and please come to visit me when you’re in the area.
Okay, I’m buying this cottage just about as much as I’m buying my favorite ski chalet in Crested Butte and my favorite adobe beauty in Taos. But at least dreamers keep themselves entertained, right?
There was something else I learned about while driving down miles and miles of winding roads today. I learned that “back in the day,” when farmers had live-in help, they had these peasants build scads of the stone fences we now see everywhere there are farms in England. However, over the last 50-75 years or so, they’ve fallen more and more into a state of disrepair. Simply put, it’s an economy issue.
To properly build the traditional stone walls, or fences, they are dry stacked with local stone. They’re wider on the base (two stones wide) , laid on a bed of stone chat, and are gradually moved to a density of one stone wide (or two much smaller stones) toward the top of the wall. Then, stones are laid on top narrow-wise, so that “if someone were to crawl over them, which they SHOUDN’T be doing, they’d knock off the top-stones and theoretically it would then hit them in the shin on the way down the other side. Local courtesy is to put it back the way you found it.”
There is a certain length of wall that IS being rebuilt, in spite of the cost. We drove by it today. The wall is approximately 3/4ths of a mile long and will take the team of masons approximately two years to rebuild the entire thing. It will cost an estimated 500K GBP, or $750,000 US dollars.
One man works an entire day and gets approximately three meters finished. The reason for this is because: a) it’s hard work and takes a long time, but also; b) they’re deconstructing the old wall for materials at the same time.
What level of love and commitment does it take to endorse a project like this? How about fund it? How about BUILD it?
It this comparable at all to the love or commitment it took to work over a period of more than three hundred (by some estimations) to build Stonehenge? How about the 250 years to build the Abbey in York?
I guess my question for you, and for myself tonight is this: Do you plan and commit to projects or to life missions knowing full well that they’ll never be finalized in your lifetime? If so – – why, or why not?
Have a great Saturday night…Love, Kelly