The Torch versus The Sun

"Which do you suppose is greater," the Egyptian asked his French friend, "the torch or the sun?"

The two men sat at an outdoor café across the street from the warm Mediterranean Sea. They had become friends many years before when they both had attended a semester at Oxford University. The Frenchman was on a business trip in Cairo and hired a coach to Alexandria to visit his old friend for the weekend.

"Alas," replied the Frenchman, after pondering the curious question for a few moments, "I think the torch is greater."

Both men were just at the crest of their senior years. The Egyptian carried a few more pounds than his wife preferred, but he cleverly hid it under his loose fitting galabaya. His skin was more weathered than his European friend's, but his eyes still shown with his characteristic wit. The Frenchman, a slimmer figure, had thinning gray hair, round spectacles, and sported a scholarly, leather-elbowed suit coat despite the humidity.

"Because?" Asked the Egyptian with a slight smile.

The Frenchman paused for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to play along with what he knew was an invitation to a philosophical joust. "Well," he said, resigning himself to the game, "I am aware that the sun is vastly brighter and more comprehensive in its ability to give light to the earth. However, its power is confined, limited to shine for only part of the day. It is the torch that is versatile. When the sun, it all of its greatness, goes down, it is the torch that lights the way of men. It is by the light of the torch that toil can continue through the darkest of human hours and progress can be made in spite of natural cycles. Thus, it is the torch that frees man from his slavery to planetary rotations."

"Well said," mused the Egyptian. "When the earth turns its back on the sun, we do indeed need torches to light our way. I must point out, though, that the sun is not useless at night. On the contrary, the sun fills the earth with its warmth which, although somewhat less noticeable during the night, quietly sustains the earth and its life throughout its period of darkness. And it does not leave the earth in utter darkness; it reminds the earth of its presence by reflecting its light off the moon. Perhaps the sun knows that man needs both darkness and light in turn. Whatever the case, the significance of the brightness of the sun as compared to the torch cannot be lightly brushed aside. The limited capacity of the torch can lead to perceptual errors that become clear by the overwhelming light of the daytime sun. Details hidden by the flickering of the flames are revealed by the sun's steady radiance. The torch only allows one to see a short distance ahead, but the sun, in its glory, allows man to see infinitely further, to plan routes and understand terrains."

The conversation paused as a young Arab waiter appeared with two glasses of mint tea, fresh mint leaves, and a tall water pipe for the two to share. The Frenchman stirred his tea and took a few sips, but his friend could see, through puffs of shisha smoke, that he was thinking hard on his next reply. The Egyptian grinned, he always enjoyed rather strange, playfully intellectual discussions and missed his years in university.

"Ok," The Frenchman replied at last, setting down his tea and leaning back in his chair, "Of course I cannot debate the immense ability of the sun to illuminate and clarify during the day. And yet, even during the day the sun has a limitation. Man does not spend all of his time outdoors. And although it is true that many buildings have enough windows to allow the sunlight to flood their interiors, some do not. Basements, for instance, or impenetrable fortresses, or deep inner rooms. Consider caves, for that matter. It seems that it is a matter of control. The torch can be actively used and controlled by man, he can use it to light dark places when they need to be light, and he can darken them when they need to be dark. He can explore the crevices and caverns where the sun's light never reaches. The sun cannot be built upon, added to, brightened, dimmed, or changed. It has no potential for increased utilization. Indeed, man cannot even perceive its center, but only its reaches. It is hard to look upon and harder still to understand. It is the torch that can be understood, manipulated, and controlled."

The Egyptian passed the long slender hose from the water pipe to the Frenchman, scratched his head, and began his reply. "You are right," he offered, "in your assertion that the torch is more easily controlled than the sun. It is better understood and its center can truly be seen—especially after is has been doused in water. But, is control always such a good thing? The sun may never have been used to go spelunking, true, but then neither has it been used for felony. Never has the sun been used to burn down the house of a disliked neighbor or to light an enemy's crops ablaze and cause widespread suffering. No, mischief is the domain of the torch as it is indeed subject to the control of the men who carry it."

"You are missing one thing," interjected the European, "although the torch may be used for mischief, it is important for something very core to mankind: food. It is the torch, as well as other forms of controlled fire, that are used to cook and to cleanse."

"Ah," returned the Egyptian, "again you are very right, except that it is the sun which feeds the plants, which in turn not only provide us and the animals with food, but also with the very oxygen that sustains us. It is the sun that maintains the life cycle, stimulates growth, and simultaneously holds our solar system in an astonishingly delicate balance."

"Alas!" Chuckled the Frenchman, "The sun is very great, but the torch is very necessary. Perhaps, then, we should both concede that each have their place and work together to both sustain life and facilitate progress."

The Egyptian smiled and nodded his head slightly, "Indeed. It is unavoidable."

"So then what was the point of the game this time?" Asked the Frenchman, knowing his friend quite well.

"Just this," replied the Egyptian, "We must never forget the sun or trust too much in our torches. For when the morning light floods the earth, torches become pale and their light nearly invisible. The light of the sun is sure, while that of the torch casts as many shadows as illuminations. And, in the end, it is only by the light of the sun that we can make torches at all. The torch depends on the sun. Without the sun, the torch is bound go out, and life itself will disappear with it."

Inspired by Isaiah 50:10-11

Mortality

What a silly species we are. So aware of our existence, so feeling, so conscious—and yet so unsure of our own origin. We explore the heavens and exploit the earth; we analyze, organize, and dissect the most complex bodies in nature and we in turn create immensely intricate technologies; we evolve and adapt and resolve and improve—and yet, we don't know where we came from, or what it's all for.

We speculate, though. We form theories and defend them with bullets and bulletins. We rally others to our side. We ignore our ignorance and bury our questions in material pursuits. We assume arrogant airs and put our trust in our towers of intellect. We fill our heads with philosophy, psychology, and self-help formulas. We take up causes and lose ourselves in the effort. We take pills to soothe our fragmented and painfully incoherent worldviews.

But whenever we stop to listen, we become slowly aware of a ringing in our ears. It's the ring of our loneliness, the depth of our emptiness, and it is harmonized by the groaning of the earth; the whole world shaking with the knowledge of its own brokenness.

But it's a frightening sound, because we, who have the conquered the earth, have no answer for our condition, no knowledge of who we are. So we turn our iPods up, take more pills, watch more television, and work more hours. We express our opinions louder, longer, and with more violence. We pretend we know who we are and we pay anyone and anything who promises to intoxicate our minds with quiet. But it never lasts long and peace proves elusive.

We have built for ourselves a magnificent world—especially in the West. But our great structure, our fantastic edifice, our invincible society is afloat on these unanswered questions. And, I'm afraid, sooner or later the nausea gets to all of us. Mortality just doesn't seem like enough, and the dull ache for more weighs our bodies down.

A Most Peculiar Dream

I wasn't fully him. I wasn't fully not him. It was a shared-body sort of dream. Half-first person, half-movie.

I was a native American Indian living simply with my family somewhere in the west. White people came. Cowboys. They were more powerful; they made us feel inferior in some odd sort of way. We tried to be friends, but they were tricky underneath their condescension.

They killed my people. They took our land. I barely escaped.

For a while, I wandered through the wilderness, full of rage. Rage against this new white machine, this unspeakably arrogant power invading our lives. I spent some time trying to get revenge, to kill cowboys who enslaved Indians.

There were nice cowboys too, though. One village I came across was full of Indians and cowboys living together in peace and friendship. I even met a few cowboys—nice ones. Not condescending, not tricky; ones that didn't treat me as a poor savage. We became friends.

I walked back to my village where there were a few survivors enslaved by the cowboys. It was night. The cowboys were rounding them up for some reason. I slipped in.

I cleared my throat, held out my gun upside down, set it down, and said that it was time to be friends. The cowboys lost it; they started screaming and pointing their guns at me.

Then I woke up.

I love my bank.

Those people are awesome.

Props to Lebanon Valley Farmers Bank Fulton.

 

Mmhm.

Liar.

Somewhere in the middle,

Between the laugher and crier,

There's a man with open hand,

That man is a liar.

He sits with the seeds between his teeth,

His teeth are made of Braille.

He sips the seeds of tangleweeds,

And sends the innocent to jail.

[I'm not a poet like Jesse or Teddi, but occasionally I like to write a bit of semi-nonsensical free-thought pieces. Normally it's just for my own sake, but my dad thought this one was fun so I decided to post it. <3].

Teaching

Teaching here in Alexandria, Egypt has been a blast. At first, it took me a long time to create my lesson plans, but now I have the hang of it a bit better. I teach two classes—one pre-intermediate class and one upper intermediate class. I have great students in both classes and they seem to be making quite a bit of progress.

In general, I don't teach any grammar explicitly, unless my students really want a boiled-down rule. Rather, I search for ways to teach grammar implicitly through highlighted dialogues. The students internalize the grammar more quickly and accurately when it is contextualized.

I also try to make my lessons engaging and relevant for my students. We do a lot of laughing in class. J. I also enjoy learning about my students' life goals and incorporating them into later lessons. We learn about English in a way that is relevant to the students' lives and dreams.

All said, teaching English here in Egypt has been an enlightening and rewarding experience. I only hope that I am able to get a job so that I can teach here beginning with the 2010-2011 school year.

Egypt

Living in Egypt has been a fascinating experience. Although I have done my share of traveling, Egypt has one of the most different cultures I have ever had the privilege to experience. Like any culture, it has its ups and downs—but the friendliness of the people is enough to warm anyone's heart.

I know that when I go home I will want to share the experience with everyone, but I'm not sure that I'll really be able to explain it. Egypt is getting into my skin, like an addiction. Its paradoxes are becoming commonplace, almost natural. As I approach my last couple weeks here, I wonder what it is going to feel like at home. I'm afraid everything will feel stale, too orderly and rigid, lifelessly lofty.

On the other hand, I'm ready to live a home with air conditioning. It hasn't been too bad here, but I've never particularly enjoyed waking up sweaty. J

All in all, I am really enjoying the Egyptian culture. I hope to have more opportunities to learn more about it in the future.