Out of all of the topics I was informed further of during my stay in Southampton; coastal apathy, urban blight, income inequality, animal abuse, and intolerance: I would say that each influenced me in their own special way. The one I felt most connected to on a spiritual level, I would have to say would be coastal apathy. No wait, intolerance. Wait, animal abuse. See, I can’t choose! They are all incredibly important topics to me.

As for coastal apathy: it is immensely important to acknowledge climate change, and how humans have and are taking a toll on Earth, & the marine life which is necessary for all life. The lesson gathered from exploring this topic was in part how pressing it is that we must slow down in order to acknowledge how people, including ourselves, are affecting the environment. This lesson can be applied to many, many, different ways of living: acknowledging how people affect others’ to how taking the time to enjoy and be present in the world is necessary in order to find peace and passion. Once we slow down, we see things for what they are – and once we find & have passion, the better able we are to spread what fulfills us.

A long time ago, when I first began to dabble in my now preferred genre, I wrote this small poem, which I happened to remember before stepping foot on Cooper’s Beach in Southampton on the first day of on-site instruction:

take compressed sand
crush it against your skin
watch it
feel it crumble

& on a different occasion, I once wrote:

As I dig my feet
Into the sand
And the water reaches
My self, my toes
Then recedes
I am stuck, yet pulled forward
In feeling:
Emotions are unyielding
Like the ocean.

The writing assignment for the day was to utilize your senses in order to create a piece of writing which resonates with you. I chose to write on differing types of experiences I’ve had throughout my life in the water and at the beach. Kurt Vonnegut once wrote, “In the water, I am beautiful.” I feel the same way; I am at peace in the water, and I would die happy if I were to in the ocean, on a harshly morbid note – whichever way you skew it. Another excerpt from a novel I was in the process of writing during a severe episode of mental illness (I am open about these types of things for a reason – breaking the stigma):

I at last rush into the water without a care in the universe whether I will make it out of the seas; find myself lost in the tumult without the ability to breathe. One wave past, dive under, I am swimming as far as I can into this vast expanse of a thing called life. I have lost it. There is no air but instead the water is what keeps me in motion, is filling my lungs. I shake, I shake, and finally I am no more.

I am awake, with a sudden start, a flash of a match on the verge of a light but not quite set to fire. There is something inside of me.

I sing aloud, with raucous fervor, “This, a dream.” Such is life.

I arise.

For my piece for the day, I took bits and pieces from experiences I have had at the beach which have made me excited and have made me think thoroughly in regard to how much the environment needs to and should be conserved; the things which make me excited are the experiences which I have cherished and would like to go on, for others as well.

The reason why I love studying creative writing and literature so much is because each can encompass so much: history, culture, science, emotion, psychology… it goes on. Recently, before the class had begun, I had read a news article about racial trauma. I have always been an avid support of Black Lives Matter and very much so a feminist, ever since my first semester in college where I was so engrossed in a class which included the topic of prejudice and morality. The text used for the class was “Race, Class, and Gender in the United States,” by Paula S. Rothenberg and the topic of the course stuck with me so much so that years later, I re-bought the text and it is on my shelves to this day. Besides, after I had read the article, I went into my local Barnes and Noble and fled immediately to the cultural studies section in which I picked up a book that so happened to change my life and to make me even more aware of the types of prejudice and racism which exist in the world to this day: “Tears We Cannot Stop,” by Michael Eric Dyson. The topic of intolerance we studied in class and having had on-site instruction at the Shinnecock Cultural Center stuck with me. Yes, I agree that all lives matter. But I hold fast to the notion that I must be as aware as possible of the implications of colorblind racism, and to never take history and the way in which differing ethnicities have been treated. It is the only way to bring about change – to educate those around me, to be aware myself of all shapes and forms of experience, and to be kind: no matter what or to whom, & that, of course, includes animals who do not have the ability of human comprehensible spoken word/language, but DO have the ability and intelligence to feel and are so very valid and important.