Mind & Matter Portfolio

Hector Santiago Bautista Aniceto

Professors Lin Aanonsen & Ping Wang

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Table of Contents

1. Creative Writing Assignments

 Interview with Myself: I Remember
 Mosaic: π
 Ghazal: Moon
 Story of Touch: The Blind Painter
 My Medicine Cabinet: La Yerbera
 Sonnet Crown

2. Write Ups
 Lake Calhoun
 Meditation Session

3. Reading Journals
 Week 2
 Week 3
 Week 4
 Week 5
 Week 6
 Week 7
 Week 8
 Week 9
 Week 10
 Week 11
 Week 12
 Week 13
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1. Creative Writing Assignments

Interview with Myself: I Remember

I remember my first day of classes.
There was a big garden surrounded by swings moving with the wind.
I remember the atmosphere around me, a mix of joy and pain on childish faces.
I remember my tears rolling down my face as I let go my mother’s hand
and got immersed in the world by my own.
I remember always being the “different one”.
I remember disliking what the other boys did.
I remember how boring it was to play with cars in the sand or soccer during sports class.
I remember how much I loved painting and drawing.
I would sit on the floor and throw all the paintings and crayons around me
so that I could choose my favourite colours and draw with them.
I remember how much I enjoyed playing with clay
because I could shape my own living beings, fantastic creatures product
of my dreams, my own stories and my own world.
I remember how beautiful it was to ignore everything.
I remember how good it felt to be innocent.
I remember waiting for the arrival of January sixth
because on that day I would get toys and new clothing.
I remember my first bicycle a green colour one with little tires in the back
I remember “el barrio” a smelly place with houses made out of wood and cardboard
like the ones from my stories.
I remember that I wanted to be an explorer, inquiring and ambitious.
I remember trying to discover the differences between a boy and a girl
and being intrigued about how babies were made.
I remember dreaming of becoming a Nobel Prize winner for discovering the cure of AIDS
or for getting rid of poverty in the world.
I remember dreaming of being a famous a dancer,
I remember dreaming I was in front of a big audience, pressure on me, illusions on my shoulders.
As the spotlight faded I disappeared and a sonorous silence filled the theatre.
I remember becoming dreamless as I grew in inches and more timid as the years passed by.
I remember wondering, every night, when I lied on my bed looking at the ceiling: why am I different?
Why, if I was a boy, I did not like what boys liked, including girls.
I remember feeling alienated from Mom, Dad, Tere, Ana and Yubal.
I remember being sitting in the table with them, swallowing my food and taciturn.
I remember being at home, while at the same time, I was not there.
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Mosaic: π
I am sitting in the middle of the room and surrounded by red eyes, dried mouths, tired faces and bodies. I
can perceive it, almost smell it. Lingering around there are traces of wildness, something that connects us,
like last Friday night. I was there, I am always there in the middle of everything and nothing. In front of
me five guys and five girls slightly begin to move, the space is getting smaller and I become trapped in a
jail of bodies. The light hurt my eyes, I could not see much, and the music drove me crazy, Where am I?
Wildness. Their bodies are close to mine and together we make this pagan ritual full of caresses and
sweat. I’ve never felt as loved and embraced as I did that night. I was kissed by a faceless person while
twenty hands wrapped around my body. In an instant we became animals, like snakes we rolled in each
other’s bodies, like wolves we chased each other. A touch, a movement, hands, kisses and lips, I do not
know what they mean anymore. Once, I thought they were everything, now I think they are nothing. I am
disappointed with myself. Stop! I shout in a desperate act to understand the world that surrounds me.
Meanwhile, he keeps on throwing up words out of his mouth in a stream that grows until it becomes the
river where I drown. He draws symbols on the board so neatly, yet they mean nothing to me and will
probably never do. It’s like if you were living in a world driven by instinct! They always say. People,
many people, have tried to teach me not only Math as he does, but also how to love, how to behave, what
is wrong and what is correct. Do they think that I am a savage, an animal? He talks about derivatives, pi
and trigonometry, Mom talks about being good and prays to God, Dad tries to impose on me his sense of
manliness telling me don’t cry!, speak with strength!, but I cannot breath. I do not believe them anymore.
Their words are just meaningless symbols. The room becomes empty, little by little. But, I sit in the
middle with my right hand on my cheek, trying to figure out what the second derivative of pi is, among
all these scribbles.
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Ghazal: Moon
Every night, I contemplate your face from my window, moon.

In the cold Antarctica or on the warm beach, I see you, moon.

Wherever I go and at any time from my childhood to my present

I’m illuminated by your light and lulled by your singing, moon.

You bring me memories from childhood, warm nights and starred skies

To you I can trust everything, my sorrow and my joys, moon.

Under your covering I sleep, I become a creator of fantasies

Under your light I awake, I walk in the streets destroying it all, moon.

You have accompanied me through my journey, when I sought

My reflection on puddles and only found that we’d become one, moon.
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Story of Touch: The Blind Painter

It’s raining outside. I can hear the eco of the rain drop that falls from a leaf into a puddle. I can also hear
the eco of my childhood memories saying: come play outside! I still remember those rainy days at home,
although, my mother would not allow me to go play under the rain, I always found my ways to the
garden. She worried about me getting sick by catching a cold or something else. But, I never understood
it, because the sole act of being inside the house, trapped in four walls, made me sick. I wanted to go
outside to explore the world through my hands. I would open the door, smell the aroma of the wet soil,
take off my shoes and socks and run on the grass. Rain drops felt on my face and slipped down on my
skin. I enjoyed the sensation of the wet soil on my hands and feet, warm earth, cold water. I would touch
the flowers and leaves learning their shapes and textures. Leaves and blossoms felt smooth and tender and
wavy lines were drawn on my mind. On the contrary, the tree felt rough and gritty just as it felt when I
touched the walls of the attic, which I used to visit when my mother caught me and stopped me from
going to play under the rain.

In the rain is because I found my greatest passion in life, painting. Through it, I can create my own worlds
and express my feelings. I was walking in the corridor, after my mother asked to stay inside the house, I
felt bored and wanted to run, jump, fly, but a house is not a place to do that, there is no much space. So I
decided to explore, I could hear the sound of the wood cracking as I walked on it. I entered into the attic,
dust on my fingers, a sneeze, there were some paintings lying on the floor. My father had been an amateur
painter when he was alive, but my mother had hidden his paintings because looking at them brought her
joyful memories that made her pour some tears, a bitter sweet sensation. I found a little box, covered in
dust and hidden in a drawer. Inside of it, there were some bottles of paint, watercolours, crayons, color
pencils and an endless number of paintbrushes. Some were very thin and long, others were thick and
short. I went to my room and grabbed some paper. I tried not to make much noise. She had told me not to
touch the things in the attic, but as often, I did not pay attention to her. In the attic, I would lie on the floor
and place the paints and colors around me. My hands would get wet, sticky and dirty when mixing all the
colors, but I enjoyed it deeply. In the process of doing this, I would imagine myself outside, in the middle
of nature. Blue felt cold and produced in me an idyllic feeling just like it felt when the rain drops slipped
on my face. I had found a way to be outside under the rain, without leaving my house. Then I felt yellow
and orange, both of them were warm and joyful, like the sunshine. But green was my favourite, it mixed
the best of both worlds, blue and yellow, it was not cold nor it was warm, temperate it was, I would say. It
was pure, joyful and calm.

So, I created imagined realities on paper while these realities created me and made me feel alive. I don’t
think that anyone felt as alive as I did and still do when painting, because unlike others, although, I cannot
see with my eyes, I can see with my fingers. Seeing through the skin is more than just seeing, it is
communion and true. It is communion because I get connected with what I see, so my fingers not only see
water or snow, but also feel them. I have never heard of anyone else, being able to see and feel at the
same time. A perception of reality closer to truth comes when one sees the world not only with the eyes
but also with the whole body, touch, taste, hearing and smell can also see.

I heard the word beauty once. I understood it as a virtue and a state of balance in all physical aspects, but
sometimes I wonder if people see beauty as I do: a light shining in the deepest darkness. My mother used
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to invite her friends for holidays so we did not spend them alone, she would receive many complements. I
heard things like: you look so beautiful today! Your dress is just gorgeous and your hair so shiny, tell me,
what is your secret? But my mother had many secrets, which I did not know, she would cry at night, when
she thought I was asleep, I could hear her sobbing from my room, which was separated from hers by a
wooden wall. Sometimes, she grabbed my hand, but it felt cold. Although I could not see her, I could feel
a dark, which has always been cold and insipid for me, aura from her. Maybe it was a product of her
constant depression due to my father’s unexpected death. Her lack of balance and coldness represented a
completely contrary view of beauty for me. I have always thought that beauty lives in a happy person,
like my grandma who occasionally came visit us. She lived in a small town. Her voice was soft, her hands
warm and her face, although it felt a little bit wavy due to the effects of time, still conserved a tenderness
that some young faces do not have. Whenever she came visit us, I would hug her, she would make
cookies and bring many other treats for me, but what I liked the most was how caring she was with me.
She would ask me about how things were at home, what I was doing during my free time and whether I
wanted to go spend days at her house.

One day, after I just had finished my first painting, a rainy day, I called it, she came home. I showed the
painting to her and she congratulated me, she asked me who had taught me to paint, and I answered that
no one, I had learned by myself. I asked her not to tell my mother because she would not like knowing
that I had been messing up with my father’s things. Then, she told me that she would buy some colors for
me so that my mother knew that I was painting not with my father’s stuff but with my grandmother’s
gifts. In gratitude, I decided to make a painting of her. So my grandmother sat down in front of me, I
touched her face, my fingertips moved slowly from her forehead to her chin, from her left to her right ear.
The texture and the temperature of her skin became recorded on my mind, soft, wavy and temperate, all in
perfect balance. I drew all of these elements with one of the pencils my grandma had given to me. After I
had finished I showed it to her and heard the eco of a tear falling into her cup of tea. In that instant, I
knew that she had loved what I had done for her. I felt a profound pleasure in the fact that I was able to
move things inside someone else’s body. Since that time, I became not only interested in painting natural
landscapes or scenes, but also faces. By painting a portrait of someone else, I was able to know that one
person more intimately through the power of touch, something that sometimes is not well seen in this
society. One cannot go around and feel someone else’s pulse through touch; our daily contacts are based
on distance. Maybe, that is why in many cases relationships among friends, couples, and family members
get broken. Looks are deceiving and people are not able to see the true in others because most of them
only see with their eyes and not with their whole body.
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My Medicine Cabinet: La Yerbera

Mom, mom, hurry up! Here she comes. It’s la yerbera! Every two weekends is the same. I have to stand
in front of the door and wait to see if la yerbera comes. My mom anxiously waits for her; she knows that
la yerbera has the cure for any malady that you would imagine. The different herbs that she carries inside
her basket have the power to cure anything from the colds of the children during to the heartaches of the
older ones. She seems to know pain perfectly, mom says.

I had been afraid of her until yesterday, when she came. I just knew her as la yerbera because that is how
people in the neighbourhood call her. But they also call her bruja, which scared me more because I heard
that brujas like to kidnap children below 12. Next march I’ll be turning 10 so I should not be very scared.
From the distance, she looks like any elderly woman from la sierra. She walks slowly but firmly, she
limps and supports herself with a wooden stick. I think she is about sixty-three years old because she
looks like my grandma who was also 63 years old when she died of an asthma attack last winter. I still
remember her because she was very lovely with me; she always brought me pan dulce from Tenango, my
parent’s hometown. When we visited her, she would allow me to go to her garden and pick all different
fruits that she grew there such as apples, peaches, figs and my favourite fruit, pomegranate. This time
Doña Dolores brought with her some of these fruit, which are not very common in Veracruz because it is
a warm place and my favourite fruits only grow in cold places like Tenango. My mom wanted to buy
some pomegranate and figs, but Doña Dolores did not want to sell them, instead she gave them to us for
free. So, I discovered that Doña Dolores could not be as mean as my friends claimed. I think that she just
needs some company because her husband died ten years ago and her children, who are not children
anymore, have made their own lives somewhere else.

My mom really trusts Doña Dolores, and she has told me to be respectful with her because she is a very
kind and wise woman. She told me that once she was very sick after she had a big fright while she drove
with my father to their hometown. She had something called susto, an illness of the soul that many adults
especially women and children experience. My mom says that it felt as if she had lost her alma. I felt
death in life, she says. She did not have the vital force that drives other people to smile, to move or to go
sit outside under the sun. Fortunately, my mom knew Doña Dolores who helped her with her magical
herbs. She gave my mom a small bag with many flowers and plants such as flor de azhar and Santa
Maria which my mom used as infusions and in the shower. After a couple of weeks my mom had
recovered her alma and was ready to be with us not only physically but also emotionally. Now, when I
see Doña Dolores, I think of this, and find myself really thankful with her too, because maybe without her
powers my mom would not be here with me.

My mom does not like going to the doctor. She just does not trust them as she trusts Doña Dolores, that’s
why we always buy plants and flowers from her. My mom prefers natural products instead of medicines
from the drugstore. She also knows us very well and always has a list of things to buy for my father, my
sister and I. For my father who really likes spicy food and eats as if he were persecuted by a bull, she
buys manzanilla which helps him with stomach ache and indigestion. My father has not been very healthy
these days after he got diabetes and constantly asks me or anyone else in my family, although specially
me, to massage his feet. He says that the pain he sometimes feel is out of this world, I think that he would
cry due to this pain, but since he is not a woman or a child he does not, at least that is what he says.
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Things at home are not very good these days, my parents usually say. My mom always tells me to save
the money she gives me for school and to be wise not to spend it in silly things, such as candy or
videogames. I try to do so because I know that they worry, sometimes I think that this does not allow
them to sleep as the eye bags in their eyes show. My mother says that tila plant is good for insomnia, she
cut the leaves and boils them in water, then she pours the liquid into a cup and drinks it, with this she goes
to bed more calmly.

For my sister Tere who, these days, spends huge amounts of time in the bathroom getting ready for
school, my mom buys sabila, aguacate and pepinos. I think that she has a boyfriend because I know that
when someone has a boyfriend or a girlfriend, then that person will spend much time worrying about
appearance. Plus, last time, while sneaking in her room I found her cell phone and found messages with
things like te quiero, mi amor, and many other sayings that boyfriends tell to girlfriends and vice-versa
when they are in love. Sometimes, I find my sister sitting in the courtyard. She peals the sabila with a
knife, then with a spoon she scrapes the transparent, viscous pulp and puts it in a bowl, her hands are
submerged in that liquid and then she passes them around her face. She says that this helps her to get rid
of and prevent pimples or any other impurity in her skin. She also uses slides of pepinos in her eyes to
prevent eye bags and during winter she uses an aguacate mask to keep her skin moist. Since it is winter
now, my mom bought two more aguacates than what she usually buys for my sister and also a bigger
amount of bugambilia flowers, gardemia and yerba santa, which she gives to me as teas whenever I have
a cough or a throat ache. Finally, she never forgets to get some coffee, which apart from being very
delicious with pan dulce, is also really good mixed with romero to cure the common colds brought by the
winter. At eleven o’clock, Dolores leaves and goes to another house, selling her herbs, which for me are
magical. Meanwhile, my mom, dad, Tere and I take our way to the church. We lock the door and leave.

Sonnet Crown
Make sure to have a taste, to swallow fire
An inner voice tells me in every dream
Do not be afraid of mixing water and fire
Mind and matter must flow in one stream

My body evaporates; I’m tempted by your hands

With your presence it moves constantly like water
But without you it freezes and spreads on these lands
I have to understand its nature, it is just matter

I dreamed we’d become one, our bodies and souls

Only one unit united by energy, synchrony and light
The world thinks we cannot be together, body and soul
But I know it’s wrong, we were meant to be one life

Oh! Mind and matter are one, your fire is light

And I can feel it through my fingers slide
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2. Write Ups
Lake Calhoun
Last Saturday, October the first, a group of students and I went canoeing to Lake Calhoun, a network of
lakes surrounded by lush areas. As it had been usual, on that day, I did not feel excited about anything. I
was worried about my school work and that made me think of the trip as homework rather than as a real
trip. Nevertheless, as soon as I got off the car and got on the canoe I found myself immersed in an
immense internal peace. The air caressed my face and the drops of water woke me up. It was a sunny day
and the water was calm. I gathered my efforts to admire the beauty of the environment that surrounded
me. In doing so, my worries dissipated for a while and I entered to a state of calm and serenity. I felt
embraced and safeguarded and its wonders. For these reasons, I dedicate the following pieces of writing
to nature and all what it means to me.

The most beautiful thing

Nothing can be compared to your beauty dear nature.

As powerful as the fall of water and yet as delicate as a leaf of autumn you are.

Trees, flowers, snowflakes and butterflies decorate your 1001 dresses.

Under your delicate arms all creatures on earth are

Raised and protected. Oh! Nature, there seem to be no words to describe how

Enormous your beauty and love for us is.

Skin

I love the aroma of your skin

It is a mix of flowers and honey,

Moist earth and river water.

I like it because it is fresh yet it is so warm.

Your skin fills me with energy and life,

Yet it keeps me serene.

I love the sensation of having your skin sliding on mine.

It is as soft as cotton and as fragile as a cherry blossom.

I want to touch it and get immersed in it.

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I want to become part of you. Please,

Keep on holding me, do not let me fall.

I love the aroma of your skin; I love the caresses of your hands

I love you earth.

Circus
Welcome to the most spectacular show of all the times! A voice shouts.

The curtains rises and the lights turn on, the sun elevates. All the audience wakes up and claps.

It is the beginning of the most astonishing spectacle.

1001 symphonies fill my ears and the stage with magic. I listen to the melodies of the sea,

the songs of the birds and the symphonies of the air.

They are like snails and canary birds’ sounds.

Suddenly, a sea of dancers enters to scene, flowers dressed in the most colourful apparel.

Their clothes are broidered with gold and silver strings that glimmer from the distance

and form the most beautiful pathways on earth.

Up in the sky, a trapeze artists flock show off their most wonderful skills.

Their outfits are covered with feathers of 100 colours.

Symphonies and dances are all combined forming a river of allegories, like the carnival, like a circus.

The show ends with the opening of 1001 blossoms that contain drops of life that fall down to earth

Giving birth to the most beautiful performers.

Butterflies in the sky, wolfs on earth, dolphins under the water.

The curtain falls and I wake up.

Water

I like you because I see my reflection on you.

You feel me with peace and make me alive.

I like you because you bring me memories.

I’ve seen death and life with you. You belong to me and I belong to you.

Without you I would dry, without me you would not exist.

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Water, let me be part of you.

I want to be a drop and get lost among your molecules,

I want to be a fish and live in you,

I want to be a wave and moved with you.

Water, please take me with you.

Creation & Destruction

Nature, you are a circle, you are infinite.

Nature, you are life and at the same time you are death.

Your favourite game is to destroy in order to create, for you it is like making mosaics.

Your daughters the plants enjoy taking showers of light, which penetrate their pores

And feeds them with small pieces of life.

We, the humans, later feed from them and life spreads inside our bodies so that we can shine.

When we all die we come back to you.

You let us rest on your skin and we penetrate your pores in order to give you back our lives.

Nature, you and I, you and us,

we are one infinite circle that is so powerful and at the same time so ephemeral.

Nature you created me and now you are destroying me.

Meditation Session
I really enjoyed this meditation session with Yeshi and Kp. I really admired their decision to come to give
us a moment of peace instead of doing the other things they had to do. I felt that for an instant I connected
myself with my present. It seems to me that I am always navigating anywhere, but in the present. The fact
that this meditation session made me set feet on earth, my present, was what I liked the most. I remember
my self there surrounded by people, it felt as if all of us were connected by a commonality, I still do not
know what that connection was, maybe our energies, maybe our peace, maybe.

3. Reading Journals
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Week 2
I Remember by Joe Brainard

This piece represents for me the mind and its power to recall past events, memory. The author seems to
portray his mental process in the way this piece is written, similar to a stream of consciousness.
Incredibly, the author shows the power of his mind to recall with high degree of detail past events and
things that he experienced.

 Jung's Map of the Soul

This article really blows my mind due to the interesting insights made into the relation between mind and
matter, the soul and the physical world. One interesting thing that caught my eyes is the claim about the
self being a cosmic entity that emerges in human life and that renews itself endlessly in its rotations
through the psych. This previous claim reminds me of the cycle of carbon or the cycle of life. In both
cases, life energy and the soul never end because they are constantly renewing themselves. For instance in
the cycle of carbon or the cycle of life, energy and life do not end, they actually pass to form part of
different living beings. The same occurs with the self which emerges in humans and passes to other living
beings once humans die.

Week 3
Dictee by Cha

I contrasted this piece with "I remember" by Joe Brainard. In both readings memory is portrayed.
However, there seems to be less power in the memories recounted in Dictee. The fact that it is narrated in
second person makes all these experiences less personal. Contrarily, in I remember, one has the recount of
memories by the person who experienced them. It is also interesting for me the last lines of the reading
when the narrator talks about the composition of the body. It seems that the universe world concentrates
and composes this one body, soil, water and air all conform the human body.

 The Book of Touch by S. Weir Mitchell

Almost all the stories in this book captivated my mind. However, it was Skinscapes what really made me
reflect upon the power of the skin and the connection that it offers between the spiritual and physical part
of a person. The metaphor of the earth being one body creates connections on my mind between what we
have discussed in class about the cells and the content of this reading. I now see the earth as a
representation of the human body and I think of humans and any other living organisms as the cells that
form this one body. Another piece that captivated me was The Mosaic Makers. Although it is a short
piece, it embraces a big true “everything must be destroyed in order to give place to something new". I
reached this conclusion from the fact that in order to make a mosaic one needs to break dishes and any
other glass made articles and then create something beautiful with these parts. I can also connect this with
the human body and nature, in order to have more life there needs to be death. As some organisms
flourish some others need to perish.
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Week 4
My Life by Lyn Hejinian

I found a little bit hard to understand this piece due to non-linear narrative. However, after two readings I
found interesting how the author uses the stream of consciousness to portray her childhood and her
adulthood in one piece. It seems that both elements coexist in her self; the first one exists due to the
power of memory, whereas the second does due to her present experiences. I also liked the mental process
portrayed here; it is as if thoughts from childhood popped up from her mind due to different present
stimulus. I also found interesting the use of colours to characterize different life situations. The narrator of
this piece does that from the beginning, A moment yellow, just as four years later when my father
returned home from war. This reminds me of a friend who could taste the sounds. But overall, this also
makes me wonder about the mysteries of the mind and the many things that I still ignore about it.

Rain Fall and the Blind Body by John Hull

I really enjoyed this piece. The main theme which for me is the connection of the body and earth is
fascinating. I found particularly interesting the fact that the body can put so many barriers but that also
can open so many doors. In the case of Clive Imman it seems that his body has imposed a big barrier on
him, since he does not have any sensation in his body. In this way, his body does not allow to experience
the physical world. It is as if he were inside a crystal jar. On the other hand, although the main narrator is
blind, it seems that his body is his eyes. His body helps him to discover the world thanks to the fact that
he has sensation in it. At the same time, I also found interesting the extent to which the body can create
psychological stress. This seems to occur when the body is not able to connect with the outside world as
the story of Clive Inman seems to present.

The Mosaic Makers by Karli Whitmore

This was one of my favourite pieces. I loved the themes portrayed in it and the connections that can be
made with the way life works. I found very interesting how the story presents the idea that in order to
create it is necessary to destroy. This idea seems to be applicable to different areas. In the story this is
represented with the cat of creating something beautiful out of trashes, mosaics. In real life this can be
represented with the destruction of old relationships to create a new one with someone else. Even in
biology, it seems that the body and the cells work in the same way, some old cells need to be destroyed in
order to give continuation to life.

Week 5
Blood Run by Hedge Coke

These poems are really powerful. I like the way in which themes such as nature, destruction, humanity
and mystery are portrayed. They all seem to be connected in the unique and at the same time common
story of blood run. These poems reminded me of the connections that exist among different cultures and
societies which seem to have also unique and at the same time common stories.
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Balancing Acts from the Book of Touch

This piece made me reflect upon myself and the little I know about my capacities. I had not thought of my
sense of balance and its importance until I read this piece. I also found very attractive the way in which
these stories are contrasted not only in the narration but also in the themes portrayed. I enjoyed the way in
which the theme of consciousness versus unconsciousness is portrayed. On one hand, Ramon is someone
who is conscious of his capacities, his sense of balance. On the other hand, Ian waterman was someone
who was unconscious of his sense of balance until he lost it. An irony of consciousness can be
appreciated here.

Agave by Neil Hilborn

I found similarities between this poem and some of the poems in Blood Run which also praise the
importance of nature. Water is a symbol that repeats itself in many forms throughout this form of poetry
called Ghazal. I really liked the connection that is portrayed in this poem between manhood (we) and
water (river, sea, etc). The narrative voice is in plural and seems to praise water; this reminds me of the
human need for water and more specifically the need of water in order to have life in nature.

Week 6
The Prisoner and !

I found very interesting the way in which reality is depicted; I felt that reality is depicted as something
that can be changed at the individual's will, given that the individual is separated from the world. In the
case of the prisoner it was interesting to see how words can have a meaning for a person who has not had
contact with the outside world. The same happened in the ! Where Ho Muoi created his own words with
his own meanings. I also found very interesting the idea presented in these pieces about words being the
basis of different realities. These two pieces have made me think of minds as different worlds as the
saying, each mind is a world.

 Snow and Touch is Beautiful

These two pieces were some of my favourite ones. I enjoyed how touch is presented as a resource of
knowledge. In the story Snow, touch is like the eyes of the person, through it this person can
contextualize herself in the world. The same occurs in touch is beautiful, where the protagonist acquires
her knowledge through touching and becomes connected to the external world through it.

Skinscapes

I found very interesting how in many cultures earth is related with the female image and skin is a
synonym for earth. It was very interesting to see the similarities between human skin and earth skin both
are form of cells and are alive. They both are presented as a link between humans and the earth.
Knowledge is transported through the skin and memories created.

Threads of Manly Friendship

In this piece touch is represented as a symbol for human unity. It was very powerful to see how humans
get to interconnect through touch and actually acquire knowledge from each other. By having men
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sleeping together they become one and are unable to damage each other because if they do that would be
like damaging oneself. This is a real act of collectivism.

Autism and the Squeeze Machine

For me it seems that this story shows the opposite of what the other stories about touch and skin
presented. Contrary to the other stories, in here, touch is defined as something threatening that separates
people with autism from other people and the outside world. Also, touch is not seen as a source of
knowledge, it is only seen as a sensation that causes pain. Skin is also portrayed negatively as a source of
pain instead of a source of enjoyment.

The Disembodied Body

I felt terrified by the story of Christina. I just cannot imagine myself not being able to control my body or
to feel the outside world through my skin. This only makes me question more about the complexity of the
mind and the ways it works.

Week 7
The Bath by Gary Snyder

I found very interesting the way in which this piece is narrated. On one hand, we have a narrator voice
that seems to be in first person. However, in some occasions the narrator becomes a third person narrator,
which made the poem hard to follow. I found also interesting how the theme of body touch is portrayed in
amore sexual or erotic way. It was also interesting to see this awkward relationship among Kai, his
mother and Masa. There are many sexual symbols between Kai and Masa, but there are some connection
between these two people and the mother who seems to be the narrator.

 Disappearing by Monica Wood

This piece reminded me of some eating and mental disorders such as anorexia. I thought of the main
character of this narration as someone who suffered from this kind of mental disorder because it is
implicitly expressed that she is getting thinner and thinner as if she were disappearing. I found also the
imagery of water and thinness very powerful. It seemed for me that the act of disappearing was as if the
woman were becoming into water molecules and mixing with it. I also found very interesting how again
this theme of touch and sensation is portrayed.

Week 8
How to Compromise Yourself by David Soto

The way the writer mixes two narrations in one is really fascinating. On one hand, the writer takes us into
a trip through certain parts of his family life. On the other hand, the writer also allows us to see his sexual
life. The theme of pleasure is also developed throughout this piece. It is presented through scenes of
sexual encounters with a white male. However, it results interesting that pleasure in this case is repulsive
rather than enjoyable for the narrator who thinks that his sexual partner is a bad kisser and so on. Another
interesting point that seems to be touched here is the idea of dominance, white people over Hispanic, in
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this case and how this is represented in the sexual arena where the Latino narrator becomes the sexual
object of the white male.

Sex, Pain and the Marquis de Sade by David B. Morris

I found the ideas about sex and pain presented in here very interesting. I had never thought of pain as the
bridge between our souls or immaterial I and our bodies or material I. However, I think of this as true to
certain extent since when we feel pain we kind of set foot on earth and realize of our material and
degradable condition. It seems that traditionally we have been told that we are above everything on earth,
however, pain come to show us the opposite, the fact that we are at the same level of everything on earth.
Now when I think of sex I found a similarity with pain since through sex we come to acknowledge our
material condition, a condition that needs pleasure and that is connected with earth. In other words, it
seems that through sex and pain humans detach from their souls or immaterial side to acknowledge or
realize the existence of their material condition.

Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri

Undoubtedly, this was my favourite reading from this week. In terms of the structure, I found very
pleasant the way in which the narrator played with the time and the way in which he/she took us into the
mind of the characters to discover what they though of each other. In terms of the themes touched in here,
I found very interesting the idea that pain cannot be easily described and that it is also relative. In other
words, not everyone feels pain in the same way as Mr. kapassi suggests it. For instance a sore throat can
be described by some people a fire in the throat or as a piece straw stuck in their throat. Also, unlike the
other readings, this piece talks not only about physical pain but also of emotional pain, which I see more
as the pain of the soul. It seems that the emotional pain that Mrs. Das feels is more than any physical pain
she could ever feel. This makes me wonder why this happens and whether our brain recognizes emotional
and physical pain in the same or in another way.

Week 9
The Seven Emotions in Chinese Medicine

This piece or reading made me think of my body differently. Now, it does not seem that my body it's only
made out of matter, cells, but that it is made of a connection between matter and mind. It is just
astonishing to think of every organ in my body as a controller of certain emotions within me. I also found
interesting the number seven in the title of the reading and regarding the emotions that exist within a
person. The reason why I find this interesting is because I think that there are more emotions such as
surprise, envy etc., and I wonder where those emotions would be placed talking in the context of the
Chinese medicine. Are these emotions a combination of other emotions, for instance, surprise like a
combination of joy and shock? or envy like a mix of anger and fear?

Dream, Memory, Story and the Recovery of Narrative by Karen Brennan

I found very interesting how the narrator connects the theme of memory with the process of writing. The
narrator talks about such connection when she describes the way her daughter narrates different stories, at
first, the stories are vague and without focus, kind of blurry like her daughter’s memory. However, as the
time passes by, the stories narrated by her daughter are clearer and with a focus, which represents the
progress of Rachel's memory. I also found very interesting the way in which the author suggests that
memory is a connection between the consciousness and the body. This can be seen in the part when the
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daughter tells the narrator (mother) "you are my memory". In here it is possible to appreciate this
connection between mind and matter that compose what we call memory. Finally, I also found very
powerful the idea that since we all have different connections among our neurons therefore we all have to
be different. I think that such assertion is true to certain extent because I also think that we all share the
same emotions although these ones are not activated by the same factors. I think that it is here where our
different neural connections play an important role.

Week 10
Skin by Naomi Shihab Nye

This poem is simply gorgeous. I like the way skin is personified and alive. Skin can eat, walk, feel,
remember, etc. all these attributes make me think of it as not only the skin but the person. I could say that
this poem is also is very powerful because, although simple, it talks about something that connects every
human, the skin. When I think of skin I also think of how the others may experience the same sensation as
I do through our skins. In this piece, I can also see how skin is portrayed as the bridge between the outside
and the internal worlds, the material and the spiritual worlds, the mind and the matter.

Week 11
Reflections on H.M.

These articles really made me wonder about the nature of memory and the ethical implications of the use
of humans for science research. First if all, I did find kind of shocking to know that the patient HM was
used for research. At first I was not sure of the way this came to happen, but later I realized that it was
under his will, in other words, he offered himself to be an object of research for the sake of science.
Although, some people may find this unethical, I think that it is completely the opposite, I mean as long
as someone is willing to offer his/her body to science, things should be fine plus people who do this
should be rewarded for the benefits that they bring to third parties indirectly. On the other hand, talking
about the nature of memory, it really amazed me to know that memory can be recorded in different parts
of the brain, or at least, it seems so as the story of patient HM shows it. It is interesting to realize how
long term memory seems to be encoded in a different part of the brain in comparison with short term
memory. It was also intriguing for me to know whether someone who has lost his/her memory should be
considered as someone without identity, as one of the articles suggests it. Finally, it impacted me to know
that although patient HM had lost his ability to form new memories, he was able to produce exact maps of
his house, which suggests that he has a very good spatial memory. In the past, I had been researching
about the savant syndrome and how this syndrome could be developed within individuals who suffered
from dementia or who had some left side of the brain damage. Some of the individuals suffering from this
syndrome had shown abilities such as very good spatial memory, music, calculations, among others. By
looking at the fact that after his surgery patient HM's brain remained damaged, I wonder to what extent
his very good spatial memory is a sign of an incipient development of the savant syndrome in him.
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Week 12
Notes of a Native Son by James Baldwin

This piece captivated me for its themes and the way it is narrated. Looking at its external structure, I
really enjoyed the rolling voice that used by the narrative voice as well as the analytical tone that it
acquires in some occasions. Looking at the themes, I found really interesting the way paranoia and the
religious fanatism of the father are portrayed. Talking more about the father's religious fanatiscim I had
the impression that it was like a drug for the father that kept him in a state of comfort. As Karl Marx once
mentioned, religion is the opium of masses and this seems to be presented in this reading at least that is
how the father seems to be affected by religion. I also found interesting the theme of hatred and love
where hatred seems to be a malady of the spirit. However, it seems that without hatred there cannot be
love and vice versa. This reminded me of the ying-yang and all what has to do with opposites and how
opposite things can coexist peacefully or not in an individual. I found interesting how when the main
character felt much hatred for his father, he was not able to recall the good impressions and experiences
that he had had with his father. This left me with an incognita lingering in my head, to what extent does a
state of internal hatred towards someone or something contributes to our loss of memory? Why is it that
when he feel too much hatred towards someone, we are not able to see and remember the positive
characteristics and experiences that we have had with that hated person?

Week 13
This reading has started to make me see the universe in a different way. I found very powerful the idea
that everything is connected in synchronicity and that things do not occur casually but they have a reason
to happen. The first idea about connection and eternity reminds me of energy which cannot be created or
destroyed only transformed. I think that is why we talk about eternity because things cannot be created or
destroyed, they are only transformed. For instance, let's take a woman, who has lived a long life, 80 years,
she has done many things and now is ready to leave this life, after she dies, her reminiscences will
become part of the soil, of nature and other living organisms will be fed or grow from it. Although, at first
confusing, I found that there is true in the oxymoron created by the claim there is synchronicity in chaos.
How I interpret this is related with energy as well, I mean, energy is transformed at different times and in
different ways, someone died yesterday night, a baby was born today morning, right now plants are
feeding from light, a child is crying later. All these actions are random but also so connected by the fact
that the energy of life is transferred to earth, the energy of light is transformed into life and the energy of
a child is transformed into sound. The fact that energy is constantly been transformed is by itself a piece
of evidence that eternity is there, we are eternity.