N OVE MB E R 2 0 1 2 | VS .

Yin and Yang 4

Comic vs. Comic 13
Creation Stories 21
CA AZ WA N C MA MI C O ME N D CT
O b a ma l ea d
R o mn e y l ea d
E L E CTO R A L
C O L L EG E
S C O R E B OA R D
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The theme for the March issue is Magic.
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RCAHIVE November 2012
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4 RCAHIVE | feature
Human beings seem
to be naturally inclined
to see life in terms of
contrast. Good versus
evil. Left versus right. Life
versus death. Republican
versus Democrat. Old
versus young. A world
of opposites. However,
as the dynamic nature of
our society increases and
globalization transcends
these barriers, the idea of
versus is dissolving, and
we are entering a period
more like the idea of yin
and yang.
Meaning, "shadow and
light," yin and yang
originated as a Chinese
philosophy used to
describe how polar
opposities or seemingly
contrary forces are
interconnected and
interdependent in
the natural world.
Yin and yang are not
considered dualities, but
complementary forces
that interact to form a
greater whole.
For example, light cannot
be comprehended if
darkness didn't exist
and shadow cannot
exist without light. They
coincide, a harmonious
kind of feeling. Police and
hippies. All that jazz.
The classic mantra rings
true, "Yin creates Yang and
Yang activates Yin."
From every facet in our
reality, we must obtain
a yin and yang kind of
perception.
Instead of viewing the
world in polar opposites,
we need to mix them.
Work needs to be infused
with play. Understanding
must shake hands with
debate. The Left Brain
must complement the
Right. Teaching must hug it
out with learning and each
aspect of yin and yang
needs to see eye to eye.
A kind of balance.
Since I began my Michigan
State journey, my sister
has travelled to teach in
Kuwait and my brother
continues to work on his
degree. But we remain
connected by an ongoing
email stream. My dad
sends inspirational emails
every week. Sometimes
it's serious life lessons
that I should consider,
other times it's things I
||t oo |oteest|o o
my future or personal
amusement, and mostly
always, it ends with, Luv ya,
Papa Bear or The Folically
Challenged One.
Among these, all have had
somewhat of an impact
on me, but one lesson
could not be more true.
Have a balance.
If you are very Yin-ish,
experience some Yang.
Work toward your
ambitions, stress, and
realize that when you
relax in the future, your
stress makes it that much
sweeter. The rollercoaster
kind of lifestyle exists. You
will have your ups and
downs, so learn to put
your hands up, hang on
with white knuckles and
smile.
Appreciate the whole.
Love your enemy.
Embrace your fears.
Experience it all. Rain or
shine. Dive in and work
on analyzing and enjoying
everything.
Of course opposing ideas
exist. Sometimes as clear
as a line sketched in dirt.
But once you begin to see
the big picture, you will
begin to see those lines
fade.
Yin and Yang, baby.
Cooper Franks
Yin and Yang
feature
Arielle LaBrecque

As November 6 draws
closer, the word "versus" has
cemented itself in our socio-
political culture.
Throughout the past year, we
have watched the parties and
their candidates struggle to
undo the threads of opposing
rhetoric and re-stitch that
of their own. With Obamas
Forward highly contrasting
the newly minted jeremiad of
|eoob||cao oe|eao |ooe,
the relationship between the
parties can be described as
nothing other than versus.
The word versus, especially in
regards to this years political
parties, creates a preeminent
binary. You are either
Republican or Democrat;
when you are condemned as
a godless liberal or a Jesus-
loving conservative in our
society, there is little motivation
to make your political opinions
known. It is easier, and perhaps
less frustrating, to hide behind
the convenient label of
independent.
But over the course of this
election, I have found that
versus, in regards to politics,
has taken on a far more
ironic meaning. As a politically
|ooeo |oo|v|ooa|, | oo
myself more isolated from
those who play no part in our
process or show no semblance
of interest in politics, perhaps
even more so than those I
blatantly disagree with. If no
one ever had the sense to
express an opinion, its not
hard to imagine we would still
be living in caves.
If the entirety of the
population agreed, we would
be living in a far more mindless
state. How can we forget the
sticky unanimity in Huxleys
Brave New World? Where
would the controversy, passion,
or motivation come from if all
of us were to hold no opinion?
Change is the byproduct
of our disagreements. Our
differentiating wants and
needs inform our policies; our
incongruities color our culture.
How we learn to accept
these differences is our
own call to versus. Through
our disagreements we are
eec|s|o t|e ||t to coo|ct
with one another. We learn
.|at |ts to o|c' aoo .|at
we can afford to lose. These
experiences, these discussions,
these emotions: they shape
us. They mold our beliefs and
polish our moral compasses.
And so, in the name of versus,
let us disagree.
In The Name of Versus
`A1`\c , feature
Her sister Rose was adding salt
to the soup when Leah told
her about the suffragist march
down in London next week.
She mustve known what Roses
answer would be, but Leah
proceeded to sew the banner
ao.a, o|c'|o |e oes
during late nights in Roses shop
after the dressmaking work was
done.
The morning of the march
she hurried down to the train
station before dawn, her face
pensive and her skirts too short
for her long legs. The unfamiliar
city was a whirlwind for Leah
with its streetcars and pelting
rain and policemen; unsettling
though not yet menacing.
At Parliament Square there
were throngs of women in lines
that knit themselves together,
and one of the leaders took
her by the elbow and gave
her wooden poles to hold
the banner. In the midst of
the march Leah felt a part of
things, and when the uniforms
descended she was full of
enough nervous resolve to
keep clutching the poles while
two of them argued over who
should take her banner away.
Finally one of them wrenched it
from her, twisting her wrist and
st|'|o |ao at |e oes.
Oh, she said, very quietly
despite the voices around them
t|at .ee s|oot|o. T|e as|
of pain mixed with a blur of
activity as they were rounded
into wagons and then cells
inside the station; the whole
thing seemed like a bad dream.
No one from home knew
where Leah was. It was cold
in the station, but the women
were singing and laughing,
calling her a brave girl. She fell
half asleep in a shivery haze
until she woke hours later to
the sound of Roses voice, and
a policeman unlocking the door
and saying her sister could take
her home.
Rose had brought the wagon
and halfway home she was too
angry to speak to Leah, sitting
st| oo||t as t|e .ee
jolted and bounced on the
wooden seat.
Finally Rose burst out, You
dont care anything about the
suffragists, Leah, youre only
doing this for a lark.
'e bo'e t.o o oes,'
Leah said, and Rose pulled the
reins up short.
What?
Taking my banner away. A
policeman broke two of my
oes.'
Rose took Leahs arm and
turned her hand over, surveying
the damage and sucking in a
sharp breath.
Just keep still until were
home, she said. Ill splint your
hand there.
They kept on, to where the
paved road turned to gravel,
to.aos t|e |os|, eeo e|os
and the still town and the close,
quiet room where endless
hemlines and the promise of
enough tiny stitches to make
Leahs eyes ache awaited.
At their driveway, Rose turned
back to her. We wont tell
anyone what happened today.
But you are not going back to
London.
Leah thought of how more
had happened to her on this
one day than ever in her
life before, and how next
time, no one would take the
banner from her. She started
to say something, when Rose
interrupted. Thats enough.
Thats all there is to it.
But it wasnt.
Jenny Crakes
The March

There is something about a college campus

in the fall---the timeless buildings amid the
towering trees that burst with shades of
yellow, orange, and red. The fallen leaves
that coat the grass, occasionally lifted by
a gust of wind that chills the crisp air. The
bitter sweetness of the change that fall
entails is coupled with a certain pleasure
in reuniting with scarves, jackets, and the
incomparable warmth provided from a
pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks. There is
something about this season that makes us
feel connected as students and as people.
However, there is also something about the
fall that seems to bring out a strong division
amongst us all, something that happens
every four years. It's election time, baby!

MSU is comprised of mostly18- to 21-year-
olds, so there is a pretty wide range of
feelings toward the upcoming election.
There are some who are quite passionate
about politics and faithful to their party --
those that would be ready for a debate at
any given time. There are some of us who
think they know who they support and
what they believe in, but would pee their
pants if asked to support their argument.
There are the I guess I'll just support
whatever person my parents are behind
people, and I'm sure, plenty who have
no idea what the hell is even going on
(who are these people the comedians on
Saturday Night Live keep mocking? Is Tina
Fey running for vice president again?).
For a long time, I was one of those who
had absolutely no clue about politics. I
chose to remain ignorant because I felt the
candidates were just plastic people with
dirty methods, and I believed that watching
the news to see what was going on was
just depressing (Breaking news: 12 different
countries have just declared war, the ozone
has literally deteriorated to naught, and the
polar ice caps have melted. Meanwhile, your
cat is dead.).
Truthfully, most of my information was
coming from Saturday Night Live. There was
something more interesting about watching
comedians portray the latest debate or
interview. Through their jokes, actors on
SNL would expose and exaggerate their
voices and mannerisms, and use their
statements and actions to make something
that was real, funny and entertaining.

It was easy to just say, Screw everything,
the government is corrupt and there's
nothing I can do about it. Maybe you've felt
like that too, but things have changed: we
can vote now. We each have one voice and
even though it is amid a sea of roughly 217
million other voters, it does make an impact.
On October 3rd, both presidential
caoo|oates eoteeo t|e |o o t|e st
debate of the season. There were no jokes
about it (fortunately, SNL had it covered
the following Saturday). Obama featured his
usual poise and ever-calm demeanor---and
undoubtedly showed weakness. Romney
entered full of passion, ready to battle.
Both came on the stage respectful of each
other, but ready to take the other on. After
an hour and a half of duking it out, the
country was buzzing with discussion. Angry
statoses o ooo votes ||eo |aceboo'
newsfeed, ripping on Romney's tendencies
to interject or Obama's failure to captivate.
Every news channel was covering it -- who
actually won? Polls have said Romney, and
even Obama admitted defeat. Even though
Republicans cheer, Democrats shake their
heads, and independents attempt to decide
the lesser of two evils, this was only the
st oebate. |ooe's oeoaoce |as
swung the polls in his favor, but everything
could change. There are more debates,
mudslinging, and slip-ups that the nation will
be following as we get closer to Election
Day.

It's going to be a heated battle: One that
is not only between the candidates who
will attempt to win the hearts of America,
but one that allows for the people to have
their opinions heard. There may not be any
blood shed by either of the opponents, but
both face a war of words and that has equal
importance. The future of our country is on
the line, as it is every four years. But now
we have a voice in the matter. It doesnt
matter how small it seems, because what
you do is important.

However, if you do decide to take a stand,
beware of the outcome. While some
may be accepting, you may feel a rift
amongst the people surrounding you...
even your friends and family. Prepare for
the advertisements, the debates, and Nancy
Grace's awful haircut. The battle going on
between Obama and Romney has divided
the country, and it's only going to get
worse...but that's okay.
Of course, an entire nation is not going to
agree on one way of thinking and it will be
a long while before theres a unanimous
decision on who will be president. The fact
that we have the chance to disagree and
make our opinions known is kind of a great
thing. Go ahead this fall and stand for what
you believe in, just as long as you actually
oooestaoo .|at eact| oo'e |t|o o.
Danielle Dillon
VS. VS.

1 `A1`\c , news
news
In contemporary political
culture, condemnation of
partisanship is nearly universal.
A pox on both houses may
as well be the national motto,
with centrist elites pouncing
on every opportunity to
blame both parties for our
nations woes and pining for
a third party of independent-
minded problem solvers to
put the nation on the right
track. In the process, political
pundits have fetishized
oo||t|ca| |ooeoeooeots, oeo|o
public opinion through the
lens of these nonpartisan
voters. Voters themselves
have taken to this trend, with
t|e oobe o se|-|oeot|eo
independents on the rise
substantially since the 1970s.

On the surface, this may
seem like a good thing. If
voters are more willing to
consider both parties--or
even willing to reject them
and support an alternative-
-perhaps democracy will
be better served. I reject
this notion. I think what the
country needs is a healthy
dose of partisanship. Voters
havent really eschewed the
partisan process, and they
certainly havent embraced
an alternative to the two
party system--which is a
good thing, as the two party
system offers voters a clear
choice and is not nearly as
resistant to change as its
opponents would make it out
to be. What we need is not
a centrist third party offering
a third way for the American
people, but for the American
people--especially activists--to
reject false equivalencies, pick
a s|oe, aoo |t o |t.
While the word independent
has become much more
popular in the past few
decades, the evidence shows
that this surge seems to be
in name only. Even as the
oobe o se|-|oeot|eo
independents has risen in the
last 40 years, the thoughtful,
diligent independent
portrayed in the media
remains as elusive as ever.
When political scientists
oete|oe oat |oeot|cat|oo,
they ask voters if they identify
with one party or another;
on this measure, the number
of independents has risen
steadily. However, political
scientists do not stop there.
Among those who say they
do identify as a Democrat or
a Republican, they ask if they
identify strongly or weakly
with that party; among those
who say they don't, they are
pressed if they lean toward
one party or the other. This
follow up complicates the
issue and betrays the true
nature of these independents
in two ways: It reveals that
there are very few true
independents and that those
se|-|oeot|eo |ooeoeooeots
who lean toward one party
or another are partisans in
independents clothing. In fact,
those leaners actually tend
to be more likely to support
their partys nominee than the
weak partisans. It turns out
that while the idea of political
independence is appealing, in
practice voters do not have
o|co|t be||ev|o t|at ooe
of the two parties represents
them better.
As such, these independents
do not represent a threat
to the two party system.
Activists hoping to circumvent
t|e t.o oat|es .||| oo t|e
public uninterested. As this
cycle has shown with the
failure of groups like No
Labels and Americans Elect to
offer third-party alternatives,
there is no grassroots desire
to upset the Democrats and
Republicans control over
government. Nor should
there be. The American
system of government is not
designed for third-parties to
compete, and thats a virtue,
oot a a.. |t |ves votes
a clear choice of directions
while providing institutional
memory and stability. The
scrambled ideology of
coalition governments in
places like Britain and the
unrepresentativeness of
minority governments in
places like Canada spell out
the dangers of a multi-party
fracture.

Of course, it is true that the
two-party system does, in
a sense, limit the choices of
the electorate. It is, after
all, certain that the next
President of the United States
will be either a Democrat or
a Republican, and so will the
next one, and so will the one
after that. With very rare
exceptions, this has been the
case for the better part of
the past 150 years. But this
does not signify a stagnant
political system. While the
party labels are static, the
substance behind those labels
|s aot||o bot. |t |s as o|co|t
to imagine Teddy Roosevelt
in today's Republican Party,
as it is to imagine Richard
Russell in today's Democratic
Party--the icons of the past
ooo't eas|| t |oto tooa's
paradigm. Indeed, even as
the two parties maintain their
duopoly on American political
oo.e, t|e oeo|t|oo o .|at
it is to be a Democrat or
a Republican is constantly
evolving.

This is because parties are
not monolithic, top down
groups controlled by a
few unchanging interests.
Much like any other social
organization, political parties
are made of people. The
people who attend the local
Community Democrats or
District Republicans meetings
do not do so to receive
orders from Washington and
carry them out. They are
ordinary folks who happen
to be unusually interested
in politics and government
who genuinely believe that
their party would do a better
job in charge than the other
guys would. And as focused
as we are on the Presidency,
these hodgepodge local
organizations are where the
real power of the American
democratic system rests.

This power is derived from
the fact that in American
politics, no one comes from
nowhere. Barack Obama
was once just a candidate
for State Senate in Chicago;
it was the local activists who
backed his initial State Senate
run even against a sitting State
Senator who gave him the
opportunity for his meteoric
rise.
Pick a Side: In Defense of the Two Party System
Sean Fitzpatrick
9
Even Mitt Romney can
trace his place on the
national stage back to
local Republican activists
who urged him to run for
Governor of Massachusetts
in 2002. In local elections,
support of these grassroots
party networks is nearly
essential for candidates,
and its importance is by
no means diminished as
one looks up the political
ladder: By far the most
common stepping stone
for Representatives in
Congress is local elected
oce.
Careers are made and lost
by how well a candidate
warms himself to the
local parties around the
cooot.T|e |ooeoce o
these local activists extends
beyond the candidates to
include vital matters of
public policy, as well. Take,
for example, the question
of reproductive rights for
women. When Roe v.
Wade initially declared
restrictions on abortion to
be unconstitutional nearly
40 years ago, it was not a
partisan issue; one's party
|oeot|cat|oo .as a ve
poor predictor of one's
view on abortion.
However, activists on both
sides of the issue took
their case to the parties,
pro-lifers and pro-choicers
organizing grassroots
campaigns in Republican
and Democratic primary
elections, respectively. The
result of their labor is
evident; while neither side
admits to a "litmus test" for
Supreme Court nominees,
history shows us what the
stakes are in terms of Roe
v. Wade. There is no doubt
that if Governor Romney is
elected, his choice for the
Court would oppose Roe,
and it is equally certain
that an Obama appointee
would uphold it.
For an individual voter,
the question of abortion
illustrates the foolishness of
pretending the two parties
are one in the same. Make
no mistake: With the
t| aoo oec|o|o vote to
uphold a woman's right to
choose in the hands of a
79-year-old cancer survivor,
the right to an abortion
may as well be listed
on the ballot this year.
Regardless of where an
individual falls on this issue,
the choice could not be
starker. But as a question
of political activism, the
|essoo o t|e oo||t|ca| |t
over abortion is that the
two party system can be
leveraged to advance a
particular cause, and that
the work can exist.

Partisanship, I realize, may
never be fashionable.
Nonpartisan and bipartisan
may remain buzzwords
until the end of days. But
those of us who want to
make a difference in public
policy cannot be fooled by
this popular sentiment. The
single most effective vehicle
o |ooeoc|o t|e otoe o
this nation is the two party
system, as Republicans
and Democrats have been
responsible for this nations
public policy for the last
150 years.

The lesson for political
activists: Pick a side and
make it yours. Pick a side
aoo |t o |t. | oo
generally desire an America
to the left of todays or if
oo soec|ca|| t||o' |ea|t|
care should be socialized,
join the Democratic
Party. If you feel more
at home with the word
conservative or you want
fewer federal programs,
join the Republican Party.
And then make it yours.
Work with other people
who generally agree with
you, even if their interests
or exact ideologies are not
the same, and push your
party in the direction you
want it to go. As Jamelle
Boiue of The American
Prospect argues, it truly is
possible for a dedicated
group of people to take
control of a local party,
e|o a caoo|oate, .|o, aoo
expand outwards.

This is not the easy way
out. Working within
the complicated party
infrastructure can be
frustrating, and it will never
be possible to remain
pure as one can from the
outside. It requires far
greater persuasive effort,
not just that your belief is
well-founded, but that its
righteousness can be sold
to the American public.
Decrying the failures of
both parties to adequately
address your pet concern
and lamenting the lesser
of two evils will always
be easier. But this is how
ooe oes o |t|o t|e
ooo |t to .|oo|o |t.
10 RCAHIVE | news
Art by: Emma Foley
Caoe |oat|oo |s soet||o t|at
all higher learning institutions
hope to avoid. Grading systems
are used in most schools to
measure knowledge gained,
participation, and work put
into the course by students.
If each student performs
differently, yet each student
receives the same grade at the
end, its harder for institutions
to measure the rigor of their
curriculum and recognize what
areas of instruction need to
be improved. In this instance,
grading systems are tools
to quantitatively record and
evaluate the quality of learning
programs. While grades may
not be everything, they are
helpful tools of analysis for
institutions to get big picture
views and address systematic
problems. Teacher evaluations,
if developed and implemented
correctly, can be used as a
similar tool for improving
educational outcomes.
Teacher evaluations and
assessments have become a
'e |ssoe |o oo|o so|ot|oos
to our failing public schools.
We recently saw through the
Chicago Teachers Union strike
the reaction to proposals of
new teacher assessments in
school districts with poor
performance. Some argue that
evaluations fail to recognize
teacher individuality, while
others claim that they will be
used to undermine teacher job
security. I believe that properly
developed and implemented
teacher assessment programs
can recognize high performing
individuals, while also allowing
for more effective professional
development programs that
improve poor performing
teachers, rather than replace
them.
Chicago is not the only area
in the Midwest negotiating
new ways to measure teacher
performance in the classroom.
In Michigan last year, every
public school was required to
measure teacher performance
in four rating categories:
ineffective, minimally effective,
effective, highly effective.
This policy was introduced in
hopes of expanding teacher
assessments to provide teachers
with more detailed feedback on
their strengths and weaknesses.
It was imagined to lead to
oe ec|eot aoo eect|ve
professional development to
strengthen teacher and school
performance, removing pressure
for more drastic overhauls
of poor performing districts.
Unfortunately, according to a
recent report published from a
survey of last years assessments,
the performance ratings didnt
match performance reality.
A survey of large Michigan
school districts, conducted by
Education Trust-Midwest, found
that more than 99 percent of
teachers were rated effective or
highly effective on their 2011-
2012 performance evaluations."
Of all the teachers surveyed,
only .2 percent (2 in every 1000
teachers) were rated ineffective.
In the Lansing School District, of
the 922 teachers evaluated, 100
percent were rated effective.
By these ratings alone, Michigan
appears to have some of the
greatest teachers in the nation,
however if this was the case our
state should not rank near the
bottom on national assessments.
Teachers want to improve. Just
as students who work toward
high GPAs to improve their
professional and academic
opportunities, teachers want
to have the greatest impact
in their students success in
the classroom and beyond.
However, if evaluation systems
continue to provide thousands
of teaching professionals with
the same positive rating, it will
be ve o|co|t to c|aoe
current student achievement
levels. Educators understand the
difference between an A and D
student, and students know the
difference between an A and D
teacher. However, if one of the
tools were using to examine
and improve our education
system as a whole doesnt make
this distinction among teachers,
districts cannot clearly see
.|ee soec|c |ooveeot |s
needed.
Accurate feedback is important
for all business professionals,
especially those working in
service oriented jobs where
|t's o|co|t to oot a oobe
on success. Grading and
evaluation systems are one
way to measure success and,
more importantly, improvement.
Asking for a more extensive
evaluation system for our public
school teachers is not a ploy to
diminish or control teachers'
abilities in the classroom. Instead,
it is a plea for recognition of
excellent and not so excellent
teachers. So teachers who
are succeeding can rise up
to be leaders for their peers,
and professional development
funds can directly be targeted
on areas where less successful
teachers need additional
support in.
Evaluation systems will never
provide the solutions for how to
improve teacher performance,
student achievement, or
educational success. What
they can do is guide policy
makers, administrators, and
educators to the areas that
need improvement, and help
measure the success of new
experimental programs and
techniques for raising the level
of learning in public school
classrooms. Additionally, teachers
and administrators must be
included in the development
of these evaluation systems
to ensure that what is being
measured directly relates to
the hard work that successful
teachers put into educating
their students. Only then will
t|ese eva|oat|oos eect ea||t,
and hopefully help us work
towards the level of education
effectiveness in our public
schools that our current ratings
claim we have.
Chelsea Gallagher
Teacher Assessment Teacher Performance
VS.
Art by: Emma Foley
the arts
11
There is a shift in sentiment
from shower-side shag carpet Chelsea Galagher
to wet tile.
A rug:
an in-between,
some timelines fault line,
and not alone in limbo
a topographical map is at a loss
before
a welcome mat,
a goodbye curb,
slick poolside stones.
A step,
a few inches,
renewed intent;
beginning,
end,
carpe diem
or
one more rinse
under the showerhead.


Last Rinse
Libby Lussenhop
Lost /
Found
Scott Swanson
12 RCAHIVE | the arts
My FriendDear Hero Worshipper
Jenny Crakes
K
r
i
s
t
i
n

P
h
i
l
l
i
p
s
The neighbors didnt understand my
friend, who rode a motorbike for the
st t|e .|eo s|e .as e||t eas o|o
and crashed into bushes after trying
to stop by using the gas and brakes
at once. She was just enough older
to a|.as oo t||os st .|||e | .oo|o
watch and then decide whether to
follow.
Pick someone else, she said once, but
I adored her.
S|e |oveo to o|a .|t| e aoo s|oeo
|e oes o|a|o .|t| e|t|o caoo|e
wax from the lights on the table. We
balanced along railway tracks, tracing
them in the thick dark under stars. In
winter we set up camp one night out
in the snow, to watch the moon shine
down like a palace of shadows and
mirrors. She led me into stories whose
doors were just beyond my reach,
stories that were not quite safe but
glimmered like that moon.
One day we walked down to a bend
in the wide river and played with the
rapids, giggling as the water snatched at
our bodies and we made our escape.
I got tired and sat down on the bank,
while she swam off once more, where
the surface frothed in small white
ripples. Past where we usually ducked
oot o t|e coeot, s|e oateo to a
standstill, struggling against the water
that curled and snagged her slowly
forward. Her eyes met mine and for one
secooo t|e as|eo .|t| ea.
I jumped up, but she choked out Stay
put and so I did, poised knee-deep on
the slippery rocks.
She untangled herself and swam to
shore, laughing in breathless bursts,
steadying herself on my shoulder.
Im sorry, she said. Were you scared?
Course not. My throat constricted and
vo|ce cae oot soooo|o ece.
We came up from the river chilled,
still damp beneath our clothes. We sat
in the house with hot chocolate, but
I couldnt get warm. At home I drew
a bath in the claw-foot tub, curled up
numb in the spoonful of steam.
S|e |ao a bo|eoo st, aoo | .as t|e
one left to sit banging my heels against
the school wall, wondering if she would
still want to come home to hang out.
T|e .ee ||o'eo o ve eas. T|e
moved in together. He ate pizza at my
familys table, drove a snowmobile for
us while we bounced, laughing, behind it
on a sled.
After their breakup, we giggled in the
kitchen baking cookies while she told
the family that things just werent
working out, then skipped right into a
description of how the mall cops trailed
her and a friend home from the park
after they set off a bathroom security
alarm. She casually took the wheel
when the two of us headed off for the
|s|aoo, oo| to oo t|at ate a ooo, t|e
bridge had been closed. The park lady
with a British accent told us to take the
causeway. We didnt understand what
that meant so we crawled under the
bridge and attempted to wade across
'til we noticed the gravel sandbar,
remnants of a road.
We walked the shiny, wooded trails and
admired the surging river, its waters high
in the assertion that it was still most
powerful. We explored the magical
little chapel house and swung our legs
picnicking on pop, strawberries and
whipped cream. The sun soaked into our
bodies as we walked, side-by-side on the
path, and it was so peaceful when she
turned to me in a low voice and said he
wouldnt take his medication, that he hit
her, but shed thought it would stop until
the night he grabbed her by the neck.
C|o'eo |e, oo |e acoss t|e oo,
told her to get into bed. I froze, so cold,
the clean cut of shock.
Her eyes were calm, serious. So you
know, it just didnt work out. Dont tell
anyone. I didnt know what to say so
we kept on walking as though nothing
had happened. I was breathless with
guilt and I wanted to snatch her up, to
save her. People always say they dont
understand how women stay with men
like that, why they dont just get away.
I barely brushed her hand and thought
of her delicate glamour, her sparkling
taking of risks, and I understood, oh, I
understood.
After that she went away, someplace
she wouldnt see his old truck around
town any longer.
Youll leave one day, too, she said, but
it didnt come out like a warning.
13
K
r
i
s
t
i
n

P
h
i
l
l
i
p
s
Comic
Vs.
Comic
Kristin Phillips
Brandon Hankins
14 RCAHIVE | the arts
My two newly purchased,
nay, adopted dwarf
|astes t toet|e oo|te
comfortably in their pink,
plastic recreation ball. I
carried the, with pride, to
my neighbor and best friend,
Sharon. She would be the
st to eet |eo aoo C|eo.
As we walked downstairs
to the basement she
blabbered in my ear some
story about her brother and
a skateboard, but I could
hardly focus on her brothers
minor injuries when I held
in my hands the two most
amazing six-dollar animals
ever to grace anyones
presence.
We turned the corner
and I was about to set
them down when Sharon
suggested that she take her
hamster out of its cage so
mine could stretch out a
little bit.
Minutes passed. I could hear
Fluffy running around in her
much larger recreation ball.
Too enamored with my own
adorable pets interactions,
I didnt notice when the
small screeching and thumps
of the plastic stopped and
Sharon began to approach
the cage, Fluffy in hand. I was
startled when she motioned
to open the top of the cage
and quickly started for the
side door to remove my
hamsters. She stopped me
t|oo|, sa|o |t .as oe,
saying that Fluffy wouldnt
|ot a .
I retreated, slightly
nervously, but answered
Leo and Cleos gazes with a
reassuring nod. Why would
Sharon say it if it wasnt true?
She placed her hamster
in the top compartment,
and Fluffy began her slow
descent through the green-
tinted tube.
When she arrived at the top
level of the main structure,
she paused, sensing a
disturbance. She crept to
the edge of the platform and
gazed over the edge. My
hamsters gazed back.
Beat.
Fluffy turned around and
started down the ladder to
the next lowest platform;
only four more to go, the
smaller hamsters watched.
Beat.
Fluffy scratched her claws
on the textured plastic and
clambered down the stairs
to the next platform; three
to go, the smaller hamsters
watched on.

Beat.
Fluffys eyes became wide
with rage as she climbed
through the tube to the next
platform. Two to go. Leo got
his wits together and looked
around for an escape.

He spotted a staircase
leading to another
compartment and made
his way towards refuge,
He glanced back at Cleo.
She remained motionless.
He looked at her, trying to
convince her to escape but
she wouldnt budge. He
trudged through the pain
and persevered to safety.
Right as he entered the
compartment Fluffy reached
Cleo.
SHIT! And Sharons mom
rammed into my shoulder,
obliterating my view of the
scene.
Leo looked so small through
the pink plastic on the walk
home.

!aa:s-Ja !JJ
Faith Perrenoud
|
Melanie Sweet
Man
vs.
Nature
Gretchen Mathos
| `A1`\c , the arts
300 x 3
Taylor Davis
Photograph by: Mark Sullivan
right now i am dosing high, into
the night of me
i want someone to see the
violence in me
my credibility
i need a witness
to this tempo and light
the gardens are growing green
the desert is dry again
i am deep into the mountain
i am lost in its nicotine and debt
i want them to see my
smoldering
because the world is dark
let me be a woman
let me be who i am
i am sad i was lost in you
i am sad you are lost in me
drowning in water i can't see
please someone, come
i am trying so hard
to be alive
please someone, come
let me know I am not alone
show me
through touch and hearing
that there is nothing more
that this is all that matters
Inside
Out
Scott Swanson
Cymbal
Ice
Mark Sullivan
|/
|1 `A1`\c , RCAH Life
For one entire week in
November, students of the
Residential College in the Arts
and Humanities will have the
unique opportunity to engage
in and learn about a type of
music that is not usually found
in the average college student's
playlist: traditional Appalachian
balladry, performed by Artist-
In-Residence, Elizabeth LaPrelle.
LaPrelle, a singer and banjo
player, graduated in 2009 from
The College of William and
Mary with a major in Southern
Appalachian Traditional
Performance.

The Artist-In-Residence
program started in the
academic year of 2007-2008,
the same year RCAH was
founded. Professor Anita
Skeen, Arts Coordinator and
Director of the Center for
Poetry, explained that the
founders wanted the RCAH's
students to have a chance
to work in small groups with
nationally-renowned artists.
Every year, the college tries
to bring in three Artists-In-
Residence for students and
faculty to collaborate with,
and although the events
require much planning and
coordination, they are well
worth it in the end for both
the students and the faculty.

Skeen describes LaPrelles
music as reminiscent of old
ballads from Scotland, England,
and Ireland. One of the things I
love is the echo that her music
has of an earlier time; it has
intonations from a hundred
years ago.

Skeen herself is excited for
LaPrelles upcoming visit.
Having grown up in the town
of Big Chimney, West Virginia,
the music and cultural aspects
of the area that LaPrelle will
bring are dear to her heart. Its
almost like having an old friend
come back, Skeen said. She
has been teaching at Michigan
State University for 22 years.

LaPrelle will be visiting several
classes in addition to her
performances, including Anita
Skeen and Laura DeLinds 291
class about oral history called
The Art of Storytelling and
Placemaking. The students
in the class are working with
residents from the Urbandale
farm, collecting stories from
their past and present as a way
of bringing the community
even more to life. Stories
are the center of everything,
Skeen said. The class will even
turn the stories they collect
throughout the semester into
a performance piece for the
community!
When asked what she thinks
of LaPrelles music, Skeen
stated, The kind of story that
she brings in those ballads has
both a historical element and a
contemporary element. Skeen
has said that LaPrelle creates
a bridge between time past
and time present. Shes a living
representative of someone
who has put story to song,
and who presents that story in
another way.
By inviting LaPrelle into her
classroom, Skeen hopes that
the students will be able to ask
questions about her personal
experience and get advice not
only about storytelling, but
about music and careers as
well. A lot of RCAH students
havent been exposed to
traditional Appalachian music,
so I want to expose them
to a new musical style and
give them a chance to talk to
someone in person; a one-
on-one conversation with an
artist.
Skeen clearly enjoys teaching
as an RCAH professor. I love
the RCAH students theyre
creative, interesting, and spunky.
You never know what theyre
going to do. I like that. She
also values her work in the
Center for Poetry. Ive taught
for 44 years, and the Center
for Poetry is the best thing
thats ever happened to me,
she said.
However, Skeen is not the only
faculty member coordinating
LaPrelles visit. Professors
Chris Scales, Patti Rogers, and
Carolyn Loeb are a few of
the others working to make
LaPrelles visit a success and
they will feature her in their
classes as well.
I really hope students take
advantage of the Artist-In-
Residence program. We hope
stooeots .||| oo soet||o
in an experience that they
wouldnt have gotten anywhere
else, Skeen said.
LaPrelle will be attending
various events throughout the
week, putting on performances
and workshops. Listed here are
the events that students are
encouraged to attend.
To listen to some of LaPrelles
music, please visit
www.old97wrecords.com/
elizabeth-laprelle
Visit Schedule
Monoay, November 12: LCC
Raolo Sbow at 7:00 pm
Tuesoay, November 13:
RCAH Folk Music Session
trom 7:30-9:30 pm
Weonesoay, November
14: Fall Poetry Serles
Pertormance ln tbe RCAH
Tbeater at 7:00 pm
Saturoay, November 17:
Concert at the Hanna
Communlty Center at 7:00
pm
Sunoay, November 18:
Worksbop trom 2:00-4:00 pm
Elizabeth LaPrelle to Visit
rcah life
Kelsey Block
Alexa McCarthy
Art: A Communal Effort
The Tigers were in the World Series.
Michigan State fell to Michigan
after a nice run of wins, and I am
still without Red Wings hockey
(thank you, NHL lockout). Such is
the roller coaster for a sports fan.
The emotional investment. The
exhilaration. The heartbreak. The
waiting. Oh, the waiting.
Whether it is pouring yourself
into your art, studying for days for
a test, or investing hours into the
community, you have worked hard
t||s seeste. Yoo |ave ||| veo
yourself when you conquered that
particular troublesome algebraic
equation. You have been touched
by a piece of music, and you have
waited for the grades on papers. You
have also waited to see if the time
you spent with those children in
RCAH 292B will have an impact. You
have waited to see if you will hear
back about that internship or job.
Enjoy the waiting. Take that time
to truly think about what you have
gleaned from the experience, not
what someone else will validate.
There is a reason that your best
ideas come while you are in the
shower: you have time to think, and
contrary to the overthinkers reading
this, it's not always a bad thing.
I am regularly reminded of Gretchen
Rubin's notion of "the days are long
but the years are short." Enjoy the
time to consider what that paper,
current event, or relationship mean
to you. And feel free to come to
share the epiphanies with me.
Niki's Nook
Some of you, maybe not all, may remember
t|e st t|e oo too' a too o |C/. |
distinctly remember walking through the
halls that would one day be my home, on
MSUs Green and White Day, and thinking
how cool it would be have an auditorium,
an art gallery, an art studio, and a media
center, all at your disposal, seconds from
your room.
I will never have to leave my dorm! I thought
(and Im sure this is true for some of you,
too). Ideas raced through my mind when
thinking about all the things I could do with
an art studio just down the stairs from my
dorm room. Unfortunately, I havent been
able to use it as much as I have wanted to,
bot .|eo | sa. a e o t|e |aos|o /t
Works Screenprinting Workshop in the
RCAH Art Studio, I made a point to be
there.
The workshop was sponsored by the
Lansing Art Works organization, a group
created by MSU alumni, Augusta Morrison,
an RCAH and Art Education major. LAW
is a Lansing area Arts co-operative that
promotes art and then showcases those
different perspectives on socially relevant
topics in our local and global community.
Ethan Tate, an RCAH senior who became
interested in screenprinting after taking
an RCAH screenprinting class last spring
explained with great passion the meaning
and the process of the art form.
The process of screenprinting can be very
communal because it is easy to involve a lot
of people even if they have no experience,
said Tate. This was good for me, because I
had none.
Screenprinting is a common activity within
activist groups to create art that has been
known to ask and solve questions of social
and political ideal. While printing, Tate urged
us to think about the issues presented in the
screens.
He was right when he said it was easy to
get the hang of, because within a matter
of minutes, scraps of fabric and paper were
being marked with the LAW logo and Free
|oss ||ot' o|ots. T|e oo .as ||eo .|t|
the sounds of good music and excitement
as we all crowded around each other's
stations to peek under the screen to see
whether or not the persons print came out.
As said earlier, it truly was a communal
effort. We helped one another achieve the
right amount of paint and right amount of
pressure to create the perfect print. I ended
up walking away with 5 different prints
(even one of my favorite band, The Back
Keys). As someone interested in how art
and the community are intertwined, I found
the workshop to be one of the reasons I
oo at to be so |ootaot |o oo soc|et.
Art has the ability to bring all
different types of people together
over a common interest and goal to
create a more cultured and creative
community.
column
As little Red Riding Hood walked
through the dark, thick forest an evil
force moved through the trees, licking its
grimy teeth as she passed by.
Perseus prayed to the gods that he
would make it out alive as he slowly
stepped backwards into the horrifying
lair of the gorgons.
T|e 'o||t c|aeo at t|e e beast, ||s
sword glimmering in the morning light,
as t|e oaoo s.oooeo oo.o to o|s|
the duel.
Luke calmly faced The Emperor as he
was presented to him; it was hard to
believe that such a horrifying creature
could call itself a man.
S|ba |oo'eo |oto t|e e ees o ||s
crazed uncle as he learned the truth of
||s at|e's oeat|, aoo .|t| a o|a| oos|
leapt up to avenge him.
Harry looked onto the cold, pitted eyes
of Lord Voldemort for what he believed
was the last time as the curse hit him
square in the chest.
As The Avengers fought the storms of
invaders, they looked into the enemies
eyes and fought through the black night
staring back at them.
Hook looked out towards the horizon,
the bloody stump of his arm leaking his
lifeblood, as he vowed vengeance on the
|||-|o c|||o.
"I can report to the American people
and to the world that the United States
has conducted an operation that killed
Osama bin Laden.
And it was thus that Lucifer was caste
out of Heaven by St. Michele and The
Lord our God and began to recreate
himself into The Devil, Satan.
What is it about an epic tale of The
Battle between Good and Evil that we
as people love so very much? Is it the
v|ca|oos t|||| o a |t t|at .e oeteoo
to wage in our heroes place? Could
it be the inspiration we feel rained
down upon us as we see heroes win
and triumph, bringing their glory down
to earth? Perhaps its the dank, vile
oatoe o t|e aotaoo|st t|at .e oo so
appealing to our imaginations that brings
us back for more horror. Whatever the
cause, a story about the endless battle
of the universe is just what the human
heart desires. It is these stories, on a
very deep level, that decide our cultures
and shape our world today.
\e, as a soc|et, cave coo|ct. |ot
because we want to feel the stress
of the struggle, but because we want
to see t|e |o|oos |t oo c|ose aoo
personal. Happiness is far overrated
when compared side by side to
greatness! Why be content ordinary
citizens when we can be heroes!?
Heroes that vanquish evil in all its
twisted and horrendous forms. We all
have ego issues.

So ingrained in us is this need for Good
and Evil to go head-to-head that we
start to project it into what should be
civil and healthy competition. Sports fans
declare war on trivial teams, declaring
them as mortal foe that they will see
oeeateo oo t|e batt|e e|o, .|eo |o
fact the competition is far more than a
rival team; it is a whole set of teams that
.e ost |t. |aooos o ooo co|toe
develop shipsromantic couplesand
|t to t|e oea teeoae oeat| ove
'|va|' s||os.oc| oe ece t|ao ao
angels and demons.
Nowhere is this projected Good vs. Evil
paradigm more evident than when it
comes to politics. Are we, as a nation,
declaring the pure evil England, Germany,
Japanor Communism? Or is it us,
|t|o aoost oose|ves, oeaoo|o
Divine Justice or Reasonable Punishment
to the donkeys from hell? Or the
lumbering war elephants? We want a
|taoo .e .aot a b|ooo ooe.
Our one largest fear is the gulping
advance of the mundane life. We want
aoveotoe |oto t|e e o|ts o |ooo,
not a ride through a carwash. We
want to sail in a galleon on the high
seas batt||o scov o|ates, oot t|e s|
special at Long John Silvers. We want
to blast our way through a hoard of
zombies with an AK-47, not another
brain-numbing economics lecture.
Whether it is through our projection
onto real life, or on the much more
vivid screen or our imaginations, The
Fight between the forces of Good and
Evil is our template. War, my friends, is
what we scream for. War against the
swarming masses of Hell. War between
us. And them. I salute you all as we
coot|ooe t|e oob|e |t.
Good vs. Evil: The Timeless Paradigm
Gavln McNell
20 RCAHIVE | column
21
RCAH 291: Creative Workshop
Hearing Voices: The Art and Application of Story and Storytelling
RCAH 291, Hearing Voices: The Art and Application of Story
and Storytelling, is a creative workshop designed to explore
the nature and the value of story as 1) a form of human
expression, 2) an artistic tradition, and 3) a tool for
neighborhood development.
As part of the class, students as well as Professors Anita Skeen
and Laura B. DeLind created a set of creation myths. The
following is their collection. Enjoy.
A long time ago, there was no earth. There were no trees, no
rivers, no mountains or canyons. But there were stars.
And in the each star lived a dragon.
And in one particular star lived a particularly mischievous
dragon. It would spend all day bouncing from side to side of
the star, wondering what was outside. One day, the dragon
bounced so hard against the wall of the star that it broke. The
sta e. |oto o|eces acoss t|e s'.
Now the dragon had no place to live. So it collected all the
pieces of the star and tried to put it back together. But the
pieces had cooled. The ball was hard and cold and was called
earth.
The dragon slept in areas of the land, and eventually they
became large basins. When the dragon wondered, he dragged
his tail, leaving winding trails. One day, the dragon was very
|ooe|, aoo |e stateo c|o. |s teas ||eo oo t|e bas|os
where he slept, and the winding trails of his tail, creating the
seas and rivers.
Eventually the dragon stopped crying and started to wonder
what was inside the earth. He looked and he stomped and
he tapped on the ground. He didnt get any answers, so he
started to dig. Once he reached the inside, he peered down,
wondering if another dragon would be living in the earth.
Instead he found a whole array of animals, and he invited
them to come live on the outside with him. But its cold the
animals responded. We need warmth for our food to grow
I can keep you warm with my breath. The dragon
esooooeo. '| ,ost |ave to be caeo| oot to beat|e e. /oo
Ill need to rest sometimes.
'T|at's oe' sa|o t|e ao|a|s. '/s |oo as |t's .a at |east
half of the time. So the animals came to live on the surface,
and during summer the dragon kept them warm, and in the
winter, he rested.
Star Dragon
Racbel Kopec ano Leab Slngman
It all started with a pine cone, she said,
s|e be|o a at|e sa|| soo|e| .|t| a ea-
bitten tail, one who had been pushed out of
the nest just a few hours earlier by an older
brother.
Dont believe it, said her brother, his left
hind foot in a newly applied cast.
How would you know how it all started?
croaked the crow. Youve spent your life
in a pile of twigs and leaves. Youve seen
nothing but branches from your tree.
WellI saw it happenor I almost did.
The sun got in my eyes at the very last
moment, said the small she squirrel.
Almost doesnt count, said the skunk.
She poked her nose out from under the
hydrangea bush. Likecan you get almost
sprayed by a skunk? Skunk grinned. And
lifted her tail.
Dont be a bully, call the rabbit, who knew
about bullies. Almost is frequently good
enough. But then again, almost getting away
in time can be troublesome. Rabbit turned
his head slightly to look at his cottontail
which was missing most of its cotton.
Sowhat did you almost see? asked
Crow. He stood on tiptoe and spread his
wings wide as a storm cloud.
Well, said the she squirrel who was
delighted to have everyones attention,
when I got up this morning I was hungry.
I couldnt for the life of me remember
where Id buried my cache of hazel nuts, so
I looked around for something else to eat.
And thats when I spied the pine cone. It
was beautiful plump, golden brown, and
full of pine nuts. Now, Im not one for pesto,
but I do love pine nuts. So, I tiptoed over to
the pine cone and just when I reached out
my paws to grab it, it changed color and
said in the loveliest blue-green voice, Good
morning pretty little squirrel.
Of course, I was startled right out of my
furry self, added Squirrel, but I had the
presence of mind to sputter, Good golly,
Miss Molly, wheres that voice coming
from?
Im not Miss Molly! huffed the voice
indignantly. Dont you know magic when
oo |ea |t` | .as to|o to oo soeooe
smart here in the forest to share my
wisdom with, not some pea-brained nut
case. The voice from the pine cone
stomped purple.
Oh my, thought Squirrel, there goes my
breakfast, but what a colorful adventure I
seem to have stumbled into. Lifes like that
one moment youre hungry and the next
moment youre doing your best to placate a
pine cone.
Im sorry for the misunderstanding,
Squirrel said to the pine cone, which was
now giving off a soft pink light. I didnt
mean to offend. Perhaps we can start
again. I do love magic and I am very smart
especially for a squirrel. Do you have time
to talk?
I do indeed, said the pine cone. In fact,
thats why Im here today, and Id like to tell
you a story before I let go of this branch.
And as if my magic well I guess it
was magic, Squirrel continued, the pine
cone grew larger, turned bright blue and
morphed into a turtle.
Raccoon and Badger had meandered into
the gathering by now to see what all the
ruckus was about. They looked at each
other and rolled their eyes when Squirrel
proposed that the pine cone turned into a
turtle. That Squirrel, whispered Raccoon
to Badger, shes at it again. The last time
I came over here to see my cousin Bandit
she was going on and on about some
falling star that had landed just inches from
her nose. She said the star had dusted
her with magic before it disappeared and
pretty soon something special was going to
happen. Well, that was weeks ago, and, as
they say, I aint seen nuttin yet.
Badger looked very curious now. Well,
she said, maybe this has something to do
with that. They moved a little closer to
where Squirrel was chattering.
said that once there were no animals in
the woods, not one single paw, or whisker
or ear. Not one single claw or beak. Not a
single tail. None. Nada.
All the animals looked around at each other.
Thats preposterous, cawed Crow.
Weve been here forever. My ancestors
were here when the moon came up.
"So, said the crotchety and cantankerous
brother squirrel with the cast on his paw,
just where did we come from then, Smarty
Pants? He looked straight at Squirrel
whose fur seemed strangely golden. He
wondered what shed been eating.

Squirrel was feeling a little pressed but also
a little brave. She knew what she had seen
and she knew what she had heard and she
knew she hadnt eaten anything. Well,
said Squirrel, I can tell you where we
come from. We come from color and from
shape and we are always changing. And
that means that weve always been here
and know this place like the back of our
paws. But, she added before anyone could
interrupt her, it also means that none of us
has ever been here before so we need to
pay close attention to how we behave lest
we lose our way.
Isnt that right? asked Squirrel as she
turned toward the once-upon-a-time pine
cone that had been a blue turtle and was
oo. a ao|ceot booooet o oaoe oses.
She was politely waiting for an answer when
the sun got in her eyes and all she saw and
heard was a bright light with musical yellow
edges. She rubbed her eyes and looked
again, but the tree branch was bare. The
pine cone was gone. She now remembered
where she had hidden her cache of hazel
nuts.
Why We Should Not Blink When the Sun Shines in Our Eyes
Anita Skeen and Laura B. DeLind
22 RCAHIVE | creation stories
23
In the beginning there was only a fox,
who curled up and slept cozily in the
darkness that enveloped him like a
cloak, marking time by the twitching
of his tail. But when he awoke he
was cold and lonely, as he was all by
himself in this universe. So, the fox
began to wander. His whole being
longed to play, but he could only
bat at the darkness like gauze. He
wanted to spy, but there seemed to
be no one else around to spy on.
There wasn't even anything to laugh
at or sing about. So he wandered,
stretching and working the stiffness
out of his joints. After hed explored
through countless dark caverns,
he became so frustrated that he
shouted, "I'm so bored! If only there
was something to do!" He squeezed
his eyes shut, and thought and
thought, amd wished so strongly for
something to play with. And when he
oa|| ooeoeo ||s ees, |e sa. beoe
him a large gray box.
Now, the fox did not know what
was inside the box, but being a
mischievious creature he was
oete|oeo to oo oot. T|e bo .as
too big for him to see inside, so he
decided to climb on top of it to see
.|at |e coo|o oo. o.eve, t|e o
discovered that the box was sealed
shut. Try as he might to pry it open, it
.as ,ost too o|co|t. So, os|o a|| t|e
strength that he could muster, the fox
pulled and pulled at the lid until at last
t|e t|e bo e. ooeo aoo |e |ost ||s
balance and fell. As he got back up he
discovered that inside the box were
scores of tiny bottles, in all colors,
||eo .|t| |||t. e t|eo to ooeo t|e
cao o t|e st bott|e, bot |t .as too
tightly sealed. He tried to twist off the
lid, but to no avail. In his frustration
|e oo t|e bott|e |oto t|e oeot|s
of space. The bottle, which happened
to be s||ve, e. t|oo| t|oo|
the vortex until it collided with the
barriers that had marked the ends of
this universe, and as it smashed a bolt
of lighting thundered across the blank
canvas of the sky.
/t st t|e o .as ||teoeo, bot
he grew curious as well, and full of
possibilities he shouted, "Let's have
some fun!" So he threw the next
bott|e, a oa' b|oe ooe t|at ||eo t|e
canvas with rain, and a green bottle
from which plants began to grow as
t|e |c| o|stoe o.eo oo.o, aoo
a golden one that shot out rays of
warmth and light. In his excitement
the fox's tail whisked back and forth,
piercing the dark abyss behind him
with speckles of white light that
became stars, with the moon shining
o .|ee |e |ao t|o.o t|e st
bottle. And when at last he had
thrown every bottle, he looked at
what he had made, but was still not
sat|seo. T||s .o|o |e |ao ceateo
still seemed empty to him. "There
needs to be something more," he
said. Placing his paws upon the canvas,
and drawing from all the different
colors, he created majestic beasts
and inconsequential insects, birds that
soaeo t|oo| t|e s' aoo s|es
that swam through the sea. He got
so frenzied in his work, he accidentally
inhaled some of the colorful light and
sneezed. And with that sneeze the
whole world he had made came alive.
"Ah, now that's much better," the fox
observed, but he was so exhausted
he fell asleep.
Even as he slept, his mind was
restless, and he dreamed of a being
that entered this new creation and
walked through the living painting,
creating marks in what previously had
been perfect. When he awoke, he
returned to his painting, and found a
set of footprints that had been traced
through the earth. Looking up, he saw
the creature from his dream, a human.
"What are you?" asked the fox
incredulously.
T|e oe oo| s||eo bac' at ||,
and made her way over to the gray
box and procured from it a paint
brush, something that the fox had not
noticed when he had smashed the
bottles.
"I'm ready to create," she said.
|t's a|eao o|s|eo, eo||eo t|e o.
But instead of drying on the canvas,
t|e oa|ot coot|ooeo to o. aoo
change, on and on and on.
The Fox and the Box
Joe Pecora and Jenny Crakes
Long ago (Not in the beginning, but a
long time ago nonetheless), We, Nature,
lived in blissful harmony. Mountains
peaks froze and thawed. Ocean was
wreaked by heaving hurricanes, and
graced by calm ripples. Almighty Sky
blushed pink in the morning and
bruised deep blue in the evening.
Forest stretched slowly away from the
ground and let loose her leaves into
the autumn wind. We did not bother
with our origins, our purposes, and our
destinies. In those days We simply were.
We were younger and less troubled
then, not having been exposed to the
burden, or the joy, of parenthood.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
|, ||ve, |ao o.eo o ao eoos
through the world, seeing much of it as
I made my endless travels. It dawned
slowly on me how little I knew. What
were those endless points of light that
visited in the night? Why did the sun
and moon rise and set without end?
\|at oces oete|oeo o.
through the world? I could not recall
having ever pondered these things
before, nor had I heard such questions
from any other member of Nature. I
could not remember my own birth,
and knew nothing of where I had come
from.
| soo|t aos.es, aoo | o.eo oo.ao
in search of them.
I came upon Mountain. Mountain was
big and old and strong, always present
against the backdrop of the world.
Surely Mountain knew something of
how we had come to be.
Mountain? I asked Where did we all
come from?
Slowly, deliberately, Mountain answered.
It looks as though you came here from
the Ocean.
"No, I mean, how did we all come into
existence?
This answer took longer.
I dont remember. Mountain said at
length.
So I thanked Mountain for his time and
continued on.
I thought then that Sky might be able
to help me. Sky was bigger even than
Mountain, and saw everything in the
world all at once! Surely, if anyone, Sky
would know these things.
| o|oo't |ave to o. ao.|ee soec|a|
this time. I looked up and shouted.
Sky! Where did we all come from?
Whats going to happen to us? What
are we here for?
Sky, in a voice like thunder, replied.
You ask me those questions thinking
that I am the biggest, the oldest, and
the strongest of all of Us. You are not
wrong, but you are not right enough.
Little River, it is time you knew what
I know. I watch over the edge of our
world. I see all that goes on below
and yet so little of what goes on above.
Above?
I dont know about the above much
better than you do. All I know is that
what must look to you like points of
light dotting my surface, the stars, are
very, very far away. There is far more
to what is than that which We partake
in. I have looked upon the heavens,
and I see things there that I cannot
|ooe to aso. |t soet|es ||s e
with sadness, but then the relentless
o. o t|e ca|es e o.ao a e.
millennia, and slowly, unwillingly, I forget
what it was I was saddened about.
You too, River, must have noticed this.
We cannot grasp existence, because
we cannot exert will. Forces beyond
our control move us, and time erases
all our goals, as the tide washes away
patterns in the sand.
It began soon to rain, not heavily, but in
a sort of melancholy drizzle. I left Sky
then, pondering what he had said.
As time went on, an idea gradually
awaked in my consciousness. If we,
immortal partakers in Nature, could
not comprehend our being, perhaps
creatures that only existing for a short
while could. Mortal creatures. I thought
what a blessing it would be for an
entity to be able to know that it would
end, to know that it had to prioritize
and enjoy everything it could while it
coo|o, to oot |ave t|e cose o |oo|te
tomorrows in which to banish its
hopes and dreams.
This much I said to my fellow-beings at
a great council of Nature. It was a long
council, for my Siblings needed much
convincing that learning about Ourself
of a worthwhile goal. Finally, We agreed.
We created not one creature, but
many. But none of them seemed
to desire knowledge. Some were
curious, to be sure, many others were
intelligent, and all were beautiful. We
poured ourselves into these creatures,
but they lacked something necessary
towards the great quest for knowledge,
these animals.
"We are a way for the Cosmos can know itself." - Carl Sagan
Tyler Connor ano [ulla Kramer
24 RCAHIVE | creation stories
!
We decided to go over the next creature
ve caeo||. |, o oat, o.eo |oto |t,
granting it curiosity, and love of tranquility.
Mountain bestowed on this creature
steadfastness and strength. Sky gave them
knowledge and wisdom. Forest gave them
a longing toward nature and authenticity.
Earth granted them compassion and
warmth.
But Fire held back. He gave them passion
and drive, to be sure, but for a time would
not give humans that Divine Spark which
he so carefully guarded. Fire held within
himself the power to transcend Nature, to
go against the very forces which brought
a being into being. I suspected that this
is what these new creatures, humans,
.oo|o oeeo | t|e .ee eve to oo
the knowledge We desired. Fire refused,
however, for he knew that if he gave the
humans the Divine Spark, they would
lose their desire for Us. They would leave
us, maybe even travel to other worlds (if
those existed), and leave us alone again.
Fire loved the humans, and could not have
this.
In those days, these new creatures walked
with Us, and talked with Us.
And they told us stories. They told us
tales of cosmic eggs, hatching and bringing
all things forth. They told us of a great
Human in the Sky, who made all things, or
a eat ao oaos |o t|e S' |t|o
amongst themselves for supremacy
(Humans sometimes liked to think of Us
as something like themselves). There were
monsters and heroes, gods and demons,
mighty deeds and magic. Their tales were
wonderful, and revealed so much of
themselves, what sort of creatures they
were, and what they desired.
3ot t|e .eeo't sat|seo .|t| t|ese
stories. The tales they told revealed much
about themselves, they thought, but not
enough about the world.
Many begged Fire to aid them. They
wanted him to smite the other creatures in
their path, to make them supreme over all
the earth, so that they could move on.

Fire knew that this alone would never
make them happy. But he loved the
humans. He conceded to them the Divine
Spark, knowing the consequences that
would result. He knew that they could not
forever live in infancy.

He gave them warning, however:

My children, I know that you wish to
subdue the earth, and have dominion over
it. Know this, though, that you are one with
it, and that you came from Us. You will not
heed my warning now, but in time, you will
come to understand just how intimately
you are of this world. Remember Us.
Nature now leaves its fate in your hands.
You will at times fail Us, and at times make
Us proud. You were not made to be judged
by Us or to be subject to Us. We simply
want to know. We have come to desire
your happiness and well-being. You are
now Our greatest hope. You are now Our
greatest threat. You are free. Choose.

Goodbye, my children

The humans grew distant from Us then,
as Fire knew they would. And they did
much. They produced many a hero and
coward, saint and sinner. Many did seek
knowledge, as we had hoped. Many were
scared by knowledge, as only Fire had
foreseen. Humans lived eternally between
the maxims The unexamined life is not
worth living and Ignorance is bliss. Many
helped the rest to see what it meant to
enjoy the gift of mortality, many scorned it
and it wasted away while denying that they
would die, or that they could die.

They continued to tell stories about the
world, which got even grander as they
matured. They told tales of a universe that
was born in an instant in a great cataclysm
of being; of stars laying down their lives,
giving rise to new forms; of the way life
bloomed into ever-more beautiful and
complex forms in the great struggle of life.
And of course, there were still monsters
and heroes, gods and demons, mighty
deeds and magic.
And so I, River, relate this story to you,
child. For some reason or another, you
have stopped to contemplate. You have
slowed down, and decided to listen to the
world and to learn from it. Take this story
for what it is worth to you, and learn from
it.
Go and live.
Long, long ago, long before you were
born, no one animal or person was
living on this Earth; instead, all of the
animals and people were on different
planets out and space. There was,
however, a problem. Everyone could
never stay on one planet for too long
before it began to go bad on them-
they treated it badly, or it treated
them badly, and soon a search party
would have to be sent out to scout
around for some new digs. And this
wasnt just any old search party, either.
Every time the planet in use became
not good for the living creatures on
it, it was because of the trends set
by the representative creatures sent
ahead. See, a group would be sent out
to locate this new planet, and, when
they found it, they would then release
the single representative chosen by
all the creatures to begin laying the
foundations for survival, while the
group went back to the home planet
at the time to collect everyone. The
representative animal, armed with a
sack of materials like seeds to sow,
water to drink, and mapping tools, was
expected to take stock of the new
place.
One time, an electric eel was sent to
a newly discovered planet; another
time, a lion was expected to do all the
preparations; still a third time, a human
was chosen; but no matter who got
sent along, things always went badly,
a detrimental tone always set. When
the electric eel arrived with its sack of
materials, it just tipped over the water
supply in order to have somewhere
to swim before attending to its other
responsibilities, resulting in the damage
of most of the dry goods in its stores
meant to become agriculture. As well
as permanently electrically charging the
water supply on the planet. The lion
just didnt want to do anything once
it had eaten its rations, because it was
used to being fed, so there was little to
survive off when the rest of the animal
kingdom arrived. And the human...
Well, the human set a trend of sucking
the planets resources dry and, with no
other prepared means of subsistence
available, everyone else had to follow
suit for fear of entertaining starvation
yet again.

Things were looking grim by the time
the fourteenth planet had started to
spoil; there werent a ton of locations
left within lightyears, and who was
available to act as the representative
to whatever new place WAS found?
Most (presumably) smart creatures had
been given a fair shot with less than
promising results. Community leaders,
members of most species, convened as
far away as possible from the planet-
wide volcanic chain that had sprung up
in recent months, and assessed their
options.

Whose turn is it?

Im pretty sure we should send a
variety of animals this time.

NO. All the old teachings say that one
o os |as to o st. 3ecaose | ooe cao
eke out a living, then presumably so can
everyone else.

Well, thats, uh, stupid.

Who ASKED you?
This went on for awhile, the back and
forth, until someone suggested that
one of the leaders present be chosen;
werent they, after all, members of this
committee because their species had
elected them? Meaning, therefore, that
maybe their best shot at sustainable
relocation was in fact in this room at
this moment?

Exciting though the notion was, things
fell apart again once it was made
apparent that to send a leader as the
representative to the new planet meant
one of THEM would have to volunteer.
Or be effectively convinced. No one
was keen on this; the responsibility, the
risk, the plain fact that things would
be wet and uncomfortable or dry and
uncomfortable or somewhere squidgey
and still unpleasant? No appeal.
/oeots |oteos|eo o |oos.

T|eo, oa||, a |ooo '3/\|' s||eoceo
the group.

None of the other animals were quite
keen on the chicken starting the new
world. They knew that chickens were,
well, lets just say the chicken wasnt the
most popular animal in the world. But
the chicken had so much spunk and
determination; he knew he would be
the starter of the new world.

So the chicken scooped up all of
his materials to take on his mission.
He packed seeds to plant, water to
drink, mapping tools to map, and a
multitude of other things. The chicken
strapped his knapsack over his back and
waddled toward the new, promising
world. Bawk bawwwwwk bawk
baaaaawwwwk, the chicken sang as he
strolled away. The rest of the animals
hung their heads and cried, for they
knew they would not be moving to a
paradise any time soon.
Something you must know about the
chicken, he is what we call a klutz. He
stumbles, trips over his feet, falls, and
just bad things happen to him overall.
He, however, was unaware of his
klutziness. He just brushed it off and
kept on going along. But everyone was
certain that this was to pose a problem
during the making of their new world.
The Chicken and the New World
Abby Conklin and Crysta Harper
! `A1`\c , creation stories
!/
So the chicken journeyed through
t|e oo|vese aoo oa|| |aooeo oo ||s
destination. He was tired from the
long trip and all the stress he had
caused himself for taking on such a
huge project. He took one small step
off of the space ship and immediately
fell over into a deep sleep. He woke
up hours later and stretched his wings
aoo ot oo. e oa|| set oot ooto
the new planet, he was overwhelmed
and didnt know where to start, so he
just walked around for a while. Then
he fell in a hole. A huge hole. The
biggest hole the planet had ever seen.
And the chicken felt small. He had
no idea how he would get out of this
gargantuan chasm that had appeared
out of nowhere. But, the chicken came
up with an idea, he stuck his beak in
the side of the hole and somehow
miraculously climbed up the side of
the wall. After a climb like that he was
exhausted and fell asleep quite abruptly
again next to the hole.

After he awoke, he was in a stupor
and stumbled away from the hole.
He walked for hours and hours just
thinking about what he might do. He
decided to look at his tools thinking he
may get some inspiration. He grabbed
the knapsack from off his back and let
out a huge gasp, baaaaaaaaaaaawk!
the knapsack was empty, all of his
seeds gone, his water gone, his tools
gone. He then let out a cry of sadness
bahahahahawwwk. The poor chicken.
He lost all faith in himself at that
moment and fell asleep yet again due
to the mental stress he had put himself
through.

But something happened after that
peaceful nap, he woke up and to his
surprise the terrain had changed.
Everything had changed. Around him
was a beautiful garden and just down
the way that hole he had fell in was
||eo .|t| .ate. ||oa|| |e ea||zeo a||
of the mistakes he had made led to the
birth of the perfect paradise.

When he fell asleep as soon as he
stepped out of the ship he ripped a
hole in the bag of seeds which began
to spill all over the soil he was walking
on. When he fell into the hole and
climbed up to the top with his beak,
he poked holes that lead to water
o.|o aoo ceat|o a |a'e. \|eo |e
walked around the land some more,
he spilled water all over the seeds he
had mistakenly planted. He created the
perfect universe on accident.

He signaled the rest of the animals to
come check out their new home. The
rest of the animals were in awe and
too |aoo to soea'. 3ot oa|| t|e
asked how the chicken created such a
beautiful home. All he could say was
baawwk baawwk baawwk, with a silly
grin on his face.