Kathryn Michelle

A year ago today, a bright light was extinguished. Her name: Kathryn Michelle Wunch. This beautiful, bright, compassionate young woman warmed the hearts of all she came in contact with. I should know. I am one of those people.

A year ago I wrote this in regards to her life and sudden death:

Memories...

Her hair, stick straight, down across her back as her eyes glitter a softened glassy blue while she bounces as she giggles. This image is engrained into my memory as a daily occurrence with Katie, her signature look if you will. But such beauty did not go without wit and intelligence as well.
Her sarcastic remarks and exaggerated impressions had all who were around her laughing hysterically along with her stagnant bouncing giggles. I vividly recall an impression of an annoyed Alex MacLean, she wrinkled her brow, scrunched up her nose, puffed out her cheeks, lowered her voice, and crossed her arms. No one could help but laugh, even Alex, fading his frustration away.
Such humor and lightheartedness are direct results of her awe-inspiring patience. Katie's natural ability to face a difficult or what may seem to some as annoying situation with a bold yet sweet smile only emphasized her virtue. She was on the path to make her dreams her reality, going after a masters in early childhood education with a minor in special education. Having such a noble desire to bring light to children who many would not go out of their way to help magnifies the incredible patience she possessed. I remember all the stories she would tell with the brightest of smiles on her face about her kids at Prince of Peace. Every fight between kids over the firetrucks, all of the macaroni art projects, the accidents where the children would be crying and she would comfort them with sweet words or a lullaby, distract them with that firetruck they wanted before, every single story, she said with a smile and a bouncing giggle.
And that giggle won the hearts of many. It was just a small glimpse of her blessed and amazing character. It was such a giggle that drew me to Katie. Nearly six years ago, Veritas had the first all-school skate night and with a group of middle and high school students you can only assume that we are going to try to do what we find most thrilling and dangerous on roller skates: crack-the-whip. And anyone who knows me is well aware of my clumsy and klutzy existence so the mix of the two were less than logical. One thing led to another and I found myself on the end being flung about like a rag doll until sweaty palms gave in and I appear to take off into the wall. As I'm laughing laying across the roller rink, this graceful glowing girl skates over giggling and asks in her sweet floating voice if I needed a hand. After clumsily getting me onto my feet we joined the line once again, this time I was safely tucked between Katie and Kasey. This was only the first of many times she gave me a hand. She helped me with school work, familial issues, boy advice, and life. I know for a fact that I am not the only one she lent a hand to. Every life she entered she gave a helping hand. Katie will continue to lend a hand to all who knew her by her phenomenal example and those lives who are touched by those who knew her and so on and so forth. The memory of Kathryn Michelle Wunch, of Katie, shines as brightly as she did in life. Goodbye my sweet girl, you will be in my heart until the last beat.

At her memorial, I walked up to the pastor, as all her friends and family sat in the church some crying, some stone-faced, and asked if I could read something. Looking surprised, he of course obliged me. I was able to read the whole thing up to the last sentence. I got choked up, but managed to gurgle out the last few words.

As the memorial let out, people came up to me, telling me things ranging from, "We're so sorry for your lost, but you are so strong to have done that, that was amazing," to, "You have some chutzpah, or like Seinfeld would say a pair of big matzos balls." At the time I was so withdrawn from the event to truly be able to process most of the event least of all those comments. A year later though, I have a deeper grasp of the littlest parts of the event, and of course still not of the mass information behind all of this.

Amazing? Me speaking, amazing? Nay. I breathed, created vibrations between my vocal chords, and sound came out. She was the amazing one, the strong one. She went out of her way to care for those close to her. She was the child magnet. She was the one who was finishing her degree in 2 1/2 years. She was the amazing one, the strong one.

She had so much to live for. She was going to be an early childhood educator. She was going to be a loving wife. She was going to be a doting mother of 6, or more. She was going to make this world a better place. She did make this world a better place. She brightened up my life along with the lives of hundreds if not thousands of others.

I love you, Tuki. Not a day goes by that you don't pass through my mind.

Just take a moment and think about what you do for this world, for those around you. Are you strong and amazing for them? Do you brighten the lives of those in your life? How can you make the best of each day for you and others?

Uh...Who Are You?

Wow it's been awhile since I last wrote.... Quite a bit has flown by in the past three months, an Israel trip, moving across the country to start school at an incredible university, and all that ties into that. But alas, this blog is a forum to discuss ideas not my autobiography.

So at Brandeis, I'm taking a course called Idea of G-d. It's a philosophy course taken with Palle Yourgrau, who is a brilliant mathematician and philosopher (funny how the two go together). Anyways, we were discussing on Monday the presence of G-d through the Torah and he brings up an age old question: what does G-d mean when he tells Moses "I am who I am"?

Although we are a class of between 35 and 40 on any given day, this class is completely discussion based and the ideas people were coming up with were quite intriguing.

One person said on a literal level that G-d was just introducing Himself considering we don't necessarily know how to say yud kay vav kay. This idea was quickly shot down by Yourgrau. "Uh, that means we have His name. Next thought." Dissed and dismissed. Then one guy and I started formulating an idea between the two of us. And of course I used linguistic terms from Miss Shaw, "Well using the terms signifier and signified, the signifier being the name of that which is being signified, I think G-d is showing he is beyond any sort of representation. What if He is just stating that He is more than anything else? That defining Him puts limits on Him?" Sarhan then expanded on this idea, "Ya, that G-d is just explaining that He is being and nothing else. That by putting a name on an object differentiates it from all other equal objects, but since He IS G-d, there is nothing equal to Him and therefore G-d just explains that He is Being." Yourgrau liked this idea, " Being with a capital B. I like that."

I am leaning toward this concept, but what else is there? I mean, the Talmud goes back and forth on all sorts of ideas, and there are all sorts of rabbinical commentary on all sorts of questions in Judaism, but what does G-d mean by telling Moses "I am who I am"?

Dependency: Life's Leash

"Dependency is death to initiative, to risk-taking and opportunity."

So I've been in Israel now for a little over 24 hours, and something has become very apparent to me. My family has become dependent on me here. This is a very new feeling and not one I'm sure I'm completely comfortable with. My father mentioned to a friend I ran into within 3 hours of being here that the only reason they brought me was to translate. Now I'm not sure if he was completely joking or not.

I've found myself asking for directions for them, translating restaurant menus, reading street signs, converting shekels to dollars (isn't my brother's strong suit math? not mine?), all sorts of things. And when I jokingly asked what would they do without me, like when I go off with my friends, they, very seriously, replied that if the other person doesn't speak English, they'll just leave.

My question then aims at how to categorize this. Is it ignorance? Lack of desire to be adventurous? What? I decided on dependency. Their dependency on having something, or someone in this case, bridge the gap is what causes them to have experiences and take opportunities that would otherwise would cease to exist in their minds.

Should one be dependent? I pride myself in being independent, to a fault even. My friends will agree, and even question if that in and of itself is simply independence or stubbornness. However, lately I've found myself becoming more and more dependent on others. Maybe I'm just realizing it, but I really am beginning to notice the level of dependency I have on those around me. Is this right? Should I be dependent? Is it within human nature as social creatures to be so? Or could we be like Walden and live off in a cabin by ourselves as hermits?

I do agree with the opening quote, that being too dependent will cause one to miss out and have life fly by him. But what level of dependency, if any, is appropriate? What/who should we depend on? Is there any right or wrong way to go about it? More at a foundational level, is dependency an issue of being right or wrong?

Would love to hear what y'all have to say about this. It certainly has been mulled over in my mind.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Well, I'm leaving for Israel in the morning, and I may or may not have time to write again before I go, although I'm sure I'll write while I'm there. Anyways, I found this poem that I wrote a few years back, and, although I usual remember the thoughts behind my writings, I have no recollection of this piece, writing it or the feelings/thoughts behind it. I'd like feedback and thoughts on it though. Just let me know what you think it may have stemmed from, or what it makes you feel; literary discussion!

Intoxication

The syrum lies within my grasp.
It is all I'll ever keep,
what's left of love, what's left of life,
what's found in heartache, found in strife
is counted by tears I weep,
by those mem'ries I dare to trap.

My mind tumbles, my stomach sinks
with sounds you make into words,
for they twist into loss of love
to pull out of reach the soul of
the one who's farther than birds,
yet lays in my arms lips still pink.

Through thick or thin than time within,
I quickly have fondly grown.
But their mindset is not the same
running 'gain in Love's unfair game.
And again I am alone,
left to wonder what could have been.

A pebble falls before I do,
the seering feel through me flies.
Time slows as I'm strangled with fear,
inevitably I draw near.
My final thoughts are not cries,
something beyond me stops that too.

It happens so quickly, so fast,
last seen a flash of white light.
Pain spreads like marionette strings
pulled tight with ease, snapping doves' wings.
A crescent smile comes within sight,
their hand is reached out in the vast.

Through trials and tribulations,
one grasps for this, their mind set.
Look for sweet intoxication
of hope. That will be salvation.
No pain can make you forget
the sweet: Hope Intoxication.

Atlas Shrugged: Who knew maps could be sexy?

I was talking to a friend early this morning who was surprised that I hadn't read Ayn Rand. She's been on my reading list for a while, but I just haven't had time to get through everything on my list to get to her. Anyways, he sent me a teaser in regards to her work which I have found both entertaining and intellectually stimulating.

DISCLAIMER: I am only judging this as an isolated selection. I haven't read the rest of the book, although Atlas Shrugged is on my to-read list.

[Some people] think that sex is a physical capacity which functions independently of one's mind, choice, or code of values. They think that your body creates a desire and makes a choice for you -- just about in some such way as if iron ore transformed itself into railroad rails of its own volition. Love is blind, they say; sex is impervious to reason and mocks the power of all philosophers. But, in fact, a man's sexual choice is the result and the sum of his fundamental convictions. Tell me what a man finds sexually attractive and I will tell you his entire philosophy of life. Show me the woman he sleeps with and I will tell you his valuation of himself. No matter what corruption he's taught about the virtue of selflessness, sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which he cannot perform for any motive but his own enjoyment -- just try to think of performing it as an act of selfless charity! -- an act which is not possible in self-abasement, only in self-exaltation, only in the confidence of being desired and being worthy of desire. It is an act that forces him to stand naked in spirit, as well as in body, and to accept his real ego as his standard of value. He will always be attracted to the woman who reflects his deepest vision of himself, the woman whose surrender permits him to experience -- or to fake -- a sense of self-esteem. The man who is proudly certain of his own value will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires, the strongest, the hardest to conquer, because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of an achievement, not the possession of a brainless slut. He does not seek to gain his value, but to express it. There is no conflict between the standards of his mind and the desires of his body...

Observe the ugly mess which most men make of their sex lives -- and observe the mess of contradictions which they hold as their moral philosophy. One proceeds from the other. Love is our response to our highest values, and can be nothing else. Let a man corrupt his values and his view of existence -- let him profess that love is not self-enjoyment but self-denial, that virtue consists, not of pride but of pity or pain or weakness or sacrifice, that the noblest love is born, not of admiration but of charity, not in response to values but in response to flaws, -- and he will have cut himself in two. His body will not obey him, it will not respond, it will make him impotent toward the woman he professes to love and draw him to the lowest type of whore he can find. His body will always follow the logic of his deepest convictions; if he believes that flaws are values, he has damned existence as evil and only the evil will attract him. He has damned himself and he will feel that depravity is all he is worthy of enjoying... Then he will scream that his body has vicious desires of its own which his mind cannot conquer, that sex is sin, that true love is a pure emotion of the spirit. And then he will wonder why love brings him nothing but boredom and sex nothing but shame....

Only the man who extols the purity of a love devoid of desire is capable of the depravity of a desire devoid of love.

This selection interestingly uses sex as the means by which one would define an individual's life philosophy and self-image. Which makes me curious as to whether this is an accurate method of life analysis or not. I mean, surely the way people value themselves and think often run parallel to the sorts of relationships they involve themselves with, romantic or otherwise. But is sex really so easily the judgement of self?

As Ayn Rand writes, "He will always be attracted to the woman who reflects his deepest vision of himself, the woman whose surrender permits him to experience -- or to fake -- a sense of self-esteem. The man who is proudly certain of his own value will want the highest type of woman he can find..." I agree that man (as in mankind) specifically looks for those who reflect a particular desire, even a reflection of self-esteem and image, like that of a woman who has been raped who may enjoy the role play of a similar scenario or someone who is very cocky (no pun intended) who wants a very confident and strong partner. However, I am uneasy to say that is the sole angle to be observed. There are those who are complete opposites in and out of the bedroom, being submissive in one and bold in the other, or those who have particular fantasies which may not correlate to their personality or self-image, rather they are acting as it was written "selfishly" by going after their desire; " sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which he cannot perform for any motive but his own enjoyment". How is that supposed to reflect an individual's philosophy or self-image?

I could be completely misunderstanding the piece, but really, how can sex be the foundational aspect to be judged when analyzing someone's life philosophy and self-image when it isn't necessarily an akin point to one's personality?

Another aspect of the philosophy of sex is the morality of sex. One part of Alan Soble's essay "The Analytic Categories of the Philosophy of Sex" in The Philosophy of Sex: Contemporary Readings looks at the morality of sex, labeling certain philosophers who look into this topic as metaphysical sexual "optimists" and metaphysical sexual "pessimists". Those who are labeled pessimists, i.e. St. Augustine (in his book Confessions he writes something to the effect of G-d please grant me the ability to be chaste, just not yet), Kant, and occasionally Freud, view sex as "something nearly always, if not necessarily, unbefitting the dignity of the human person," and "that the power and demands of the sexual impulse make it a danger to harmonious civilized life... and... also a threat to his or her own humanity." The optimists, i.e. Plato, occasionally Freud, Bertrand Russell, and Albert Ellis, "... view human sexuality as just another and mostly innocuous dimension of our existence as embodied or animal-like creatures... and they applaud rather than fear the power of an impulse that can lift us to high forms of happiness."

Flat out, I don't think sex is either moral or immoral but, similar to really most objects or acts (i.e. money, power, etc.), is amoral. It is how we as individuals and partners in a relationship approach sex that is moral or immoral. As people, we can have sex be that selfish act that Ayn Rand discusses, which would be observed as metaphysical sexual pessimism, or have sex be an act NOT ONLY for the self, but also your partner, as well as a deliberate act demonstrating its biological purpose to conceive.

Thoughts on the morality of sex? Agree? Disagree? Also, consider Ayn Rand's stance on sex being the point to judge life's philosophy and self-image. Is that an appropriate item for judgement? Is it the only one or what else is there?

Bigger, Better Things

So it's late on a Saturday night/Sunday morning, and I find myself having a very interesting conversation with a good friend on the second greatest fear amongst man: dying (which is only second to public speaking, go figure).

Last week, a mutual friend of ours had a death in the family. The death happened to be that of a child. My friend said, "It shouldn't be so though... Hashem (one name referring to G-d) had bigger and better plans for them somewhere else, no?" We often say this about anyone who we feel hasn't lived a "full" life, and from my experience, that is anyone who is under the age of 60, if not 70.

As for my experience, I have had someone die in my life every three years like clock work, but occasionally closer together. So far this year, I personally have known four people who have died, all of which fall into that "hasn't lived a full life" category. The youngest was 10 and the oldest was 46. Cause of death ranged from unknown to leukemia, but the reason behind the death doesn't make the pain that we feel any less.

One of my mentors told me right after the death of my best friend, "We mourn for the living, meaning the person we're grieving for is dead, what is mourning going to do for them?" As blunt and disheartening as that may sound, I feel it may be true. We mourn, sit shiva (Jewish mourning period and rituals associated with that), disassociate, a variety of different things, but those are all for us.

On a different note, why would Hashem pick certain people over others? Why the young? Why the innocent? My best friend was my age when she died for unknown reasons. She was majoring in early childhood development with a minor in special education. She was very active in her church and school, and easily could be described as a good, loving, compassionate, sweet, kind, honest, loyal (the list goes on) individual. What possibly could she have accomplished in her short nineteen years?

Oh, but she did so much. My question then becomes, if she had already done so much in nineteen short years, why not capitalize on that? Why not lengthen the time she would have had to do more?

So I suppose I strayed a bit from the questions I wanted to inquire about. Death: Can we ever have an understanding as to the when? the why? What are we meant to take away from death?

My response to the last question is the cliche term to live life as if there was no tomorrow, but to dream as if you would live forever. My friend then asked who actually does this? I responded nearly no one, but if it makes you in the least bit aware of what you are doing day in and day out and making those moments worth while, then it's worth it.

Thoughts?

Overlooked: Eye of the Beholder

Before I head off for Shabbat tonight, there has been a particular topic I've been mulling over in my mind sparked by the movie, "Keeping the Faith" which stars Edward Norton (Father Brian), Ben Stiller (Rabbi Jake), and Jenna Elfman (Anna). It's a fun romantic comedy which starts out like a classic joke, Priest walks into a bar...

Anyways, there is this one scene where Anna and Father Brian are taking a cab ride home and Anna mentions that she had been at the Metropolitan Museum of Art earlier. Going on a weekly basis, she walks through the same galleries again and again, but this particular day she notices a small but breathtaking watercolor by Bogdan Grom. She comments on how she has gone through time and time again, but has never noticed this piece, and yet she found herself just staring at it for hours.

It got me thinking as to what do I go through life overlooking. I generally take pride in thinking that I am a very intuitive and observing individual, but I'm not aware of everything. What things do I not notice? What beauty is there that I do realize?

That then draws the questions as to what constitutes as being beautiful considering that that is what we may be missing. What is beauty? Is it subjective or objective? If objective, then what are its standards?

If we are overlooking something that we often spend our lives striving for, what else could we possibly be missing? What are we not paying attention to? Could it be important or simply extraneous? What should we be focusing on? Or more so, what should we be looking for?