Monthly Archives: February 2016

2:4 Difficulties and Assumptions: Interpreting First Contact Stories

  1. We began this unit by discussing assumptions and differences that we carry into our class. In “First Contact as Spiritual Performance,” Lutz makes an assumption about his readers (Lutz, “First Contact” 32). He asks us to begin with the assumption that comprehending the performances of the Indigenous participants is “one of the most obvious difficulties.” He explains that this is so because “one must of necessity enter a world that is distant in time and alien in culture, attempting to perceive indigenous performance through their eyes as well as those of the Europeans.” Here, Lutz is assuming either that his readers belong to the European tradition, or he is assuming that it is more difficult for a European to understand Indigenous performances – than the other way around. What do you make of this reading? Am I being fair when I point to this assumption? If so, is Lutz being fair when he makes this assumption?

 

The first question I need to clarify is what is this “most obvious difficulty” a barrier to? My interpretation is that Lutz is trying to find common ground wherein we, as audiences to the stories of first contact, can learn from the moments in which European and indigenous peoples could be seen “speaking to each other” as opposed to “speaking past each other” (“First Contact” 31). If this interpretation is accurate, I assume he is arguing that the difficulty of comprehending Indigenous performances acts as a barrier for us as an audience. This “most obvious difficulty” inhibits our ability to learn from the moments in which European and indigenous people could have been considered successfully speaking to each other, as he puts it. With that clarified slightly, we can tackle the question of Lutz’s assumption. First of all, I disagree with Lutz’s assumption that comprehending historical indigenous performances is “one of the most obvious difficulties” of learning from first contact stories. By pointing to indigenous performances only, he has left out an entire element of what makes it so difficult. As we’ve seen from this lesson’s other readings, the ability to learn from contact stories is difficult because of barriers to interpreting European narratives as well. Barriers such as the acknowledgement that many written European narratives are wrongfully accepted as first-hand accounts or “true” interpretations; long inherited assumptions that written narratives are somehow superior to oral; and that in many cases, European first contact narratives are products of “expectations, conditioned by imaginary worlds conjured long before [their] arrival” (Lutz, “Myth Understandings” 2). If we widen our perspective and focus on the difficulty of interpreting both sides, Lutz’s argument that interpreting contact performances is difficult because one must “enter a world that is distant in time and alien in culture” stands stronger. As someone that could be considered to belong to the European tradition (although even for myself I don’t really understand what that means, the best I can muster is defining that as not being raised in an indigenous tradition), I find it just as difficult to try and imagine how I might perceive Europeans in the context of contact stories. I imagine their world to be just as alien and different from my own as that of indigenous peoples. To me, this distance in time and culture is the most obvious barrier to learning from contact stories now, no matter what tradition one belongs to.

Lutz’s choice to omit the obvious difficulties of interpreting European narratives in this section of his argument makes it easier to agree that he is assuming his readers belong to the European tradition. Whether or not it is fair to say he is assuming that it is more difficult for Europeans to interpret indigenous performances than the other way around is more difficult.  If we accept that he is assuming this however, I argue that he is making an additional assumption, incorrectly, that readers belonging to the European tradition (again, what that means is probably a topic for a separate blog post) might find it easier to span the distance in time and culture to connect with the European world than the world of indigenous peoples.

To conclude, I would like to move away from discussion of the many difficulties that stand in our way of learning from contact stories to focus on a couple of points made by Lutz that I found hopeful and interesting. I believe Lutz was successful in his attempt to find common ground wherein we can learn, now, from historical contact stories. I found this in his discussion of how both groups approached each other initially, both seeking “to minimize the danger and maximize opportunities” (“First Contact” 30). For me, this point bypassed cultural and historical differences to land on a basic quality shared by most human beings: the desire to survive and prosper in uncertain or potentially threatening circumstances. I experience this (much more subtly of course) on a daily basis whenever I meet someone new. I understand how it feels to ask the types of questions Lutz imagines both parties to have asked themselves, like “What face to put forward to show the right mixture of strength and openness? What precautions to take to indicate readiness but not fear?” (“First Contact” 30). By framing the instances of first contact in this context of basic human interaction I could more easily travel that distance of time and culture to understand how it might have felt, for either side.

What about you? Have you caught yourself approaching interactions with new people in your life similarly? Or is there another way that you’ve been able to travel the distance of time and culture to truly connect with a story from the past? I’m curious.

 

Sierra

Thoughts on assignment 2:4

 

Works Cited:

Davidson, Lauren. “How European are you? Take this quiz to find out.” The Telegraph. 18 Aug. 2015. Web. 19 Feb. 2016.

Ifould, Rosie. “Acting on impulse.” The Guardian. Guardian News and Media Limited. 7 March 2009. Web. 19 Feb. 2016.

Lutz, John. “Myth Understandings: First Contact, Over and Over Again.” Myth and Memory: Rethinking Stories of Indigenous- European Contact. Ed. Lutz. Vancouver: U of British Columbia P, 2007. 1-15. Web. 17 Feb. 2016.

Lutz, John. “First Contact as a Spiritual Performance: Aboriginal — Non-Aboriginal Encounters on the North American West Coast.” Myth and Memory: Rethinking Stories of Indigenous-European Contact. Ed. Lutz. Vancouver: U of British Columbia P, 2007. 30-45. Web. 17 Feb. 2016.

Weatherford, John. “Examining the Reputation of Columbus.” Understanding Prejudice: Exercises and Demonstrations. Adapted from article in the Baltimore Evening Sun, 1989. Social Psychology Network, 2002. Web. 19 Feb. 2016.

2:3 Our Sense of Home: A summary

The first thing I noticed reading everyone’s blog this week was the passion that shone through. Writing about home, came across, to me, as truly enjoyable. In each blog I sensed excitement, love, positive nostalgia, and a genuine desire to have us, the readers, understand what was being described. The excitement was contagious; I actually got shivers a couple of times, in moments where I felt truly connected to someone’s feeling of home.

Here are some of the shared assumptions, values and stories I noticed:

  • Home is a feeling, not necessarily a place
  • Home is often associated with family
  • Home is defined by a feeling of comfort, safety, familiarity
  • The feeling of home can be communicated through the story of one moment, or day; that story is often set in a familiar place from childhood, with family, and fondly remembered smells, tastes and sounds.

A sincere thanks to all of your wonderful depictions of home. I felt I was able to peak through the window of many of your memories and am very grateful for your willingness to share.

 

Sierra

Thoughts on Assignment 2:3

2:2 Let’s talk about the Home Spectrum

I recently saw a movie wherein one of the characters says home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling. I understand this. I feel at home often, in many places. My original and most deeply rooted home is Regina, Saskatchewan, the city I grew up in. I almost wrote my parent’s house, to be more specific, but changed it to encompass the entire city, because my feeling of home when I’m there reaches outside of one building. My feeling of home there has spread all over, into my best friends’ homes, certain streets, businesses, and parks. Since moving away however, I have found myself in many places where I feel at home and many where I feel the complete opposite. That opposite-of-home feeling is an interesting one. Perhaps I’ll start there and make my way along the spectrum, to more accurately explain to you how I experience my sense of home.

You might already know what I mean when I say I want to describe the opposite-of-home feeling. It lives at one extreme end of what I’ll call the ‘home spectrum.’ It’s the feeling I get when I’m in a city I’ve never been in before, lost at night, alone. A gut-sinking, heart-quickening, wide-eyed feeling that washes over me when I realize I am somewhere I shouldn’t be and the only thing I want to do is get away as soon as possible. Moving away from that panicky, fear-based extreme there is a more subtle middle ground. I’ve often heard people make comments like, “I don’t feel at home here” or “this place just doesn’t suit me.” I think comments like these are trying to describe the middle ground, not-quite-at-home feeling. It contains a mix of discomfort, alienation, insecurity and loneliness. Many might argue that big cities help perpetuate this feeling, making it difficult for people to feel at home anywhere outside of the space they reside, if at all. Why? Well, that might be a topic for a separate blog post. Here I want to try and help you understand how I experience a sense of home. So let’s keep moving down the spectrum towards that end.

Home to me is a feeling I experience when all discomfort, isolation, and anxiety have washed away. It contains a mix of familiarity, safety, warmth (not necessarily temperature-wise) and certainty. I have an ongoing, written list of things that I love. It contains things like fireplaces, string lights, coffee brewed by a friend, and the smell of baking bread. Many of the things on that list would help me arrive at this feeling of home. It’s the feeling I get when I arrive at a space and feel one hundred percent welcome, like there is nowhere else that I should be at that moment.

string lights

Familiarity and time spent in a place, for me, really help foster a sense of home. However, sometimes time will pass, or my relationship with the people I associate with a space will change, and that sense of home will drift away. I’ve returned to a place after being gone for some time, expecting it to look, smell and feel exactly as I remember, but it doesn’t. Perhaps you’ve experienced this as well? It can be surprising and disappointing. One thing that’s great though, is that with time that feeling of home has always returned somewhere new. Sometimes it’s fleeting, as short as the length of a hug, but it can always be found somewhere, at least in my experience.

My experience of the ‘home spectrum’ varies throughout the day, the month, the year. I might experience both extremes in one afternoon, or spend long stretches in that uncomfortable, not-quite-at-home middle ground. I try to be okay with it all, not constantly seeking that feeling of home, because I believe it’s important to be comfortable with discomfort sometimes. I find it difficult however, because the feeling of home is so pleasant.

What do you think? Is your sense of home something that can be sought out and found, or a feeling you need to patiently wait for? Is it valuable enough to structure your life around, or something that you can learn to live without? For me, it is something tangible that I can find for myself and create for others. Having a sense of home is something I value above most things. I’m curious if it’s the same for you.

 

Sierra Gale

Thoughts on Assignment 2:2

 

 

Works Cited:

Babauta, Leo. “Discomfort Zone: How to Master the Universe.” Web blog post. Zen Habits: Breathe. Zen Habits. 24 Jan. 2013. Web. 8 Feb. 2016.

Fletcher, Thandi and Emily Jackson. “A year ago, Vancouver vowed to become friendlier…so how’s that going?” Metro News. Free Daily News Group Inc. 24 Feb. 2015. Web. 8 Feb. 2016.