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NatalieRoper.02.13.12.Draft 2

Author: Natalie Roper

I’ll never forget the first time I went to the Charlottesville City Market. My friends and I took the trolley to that parking lot on Water Street. We got off the trolley, turn a complete 180 degrees and then you can’t miss it—the parking lot transformed by tents, conversations, laughter, connections, and color. We walked up Second St. and I could feel myself already aching to be a part of it. Now I recognize that the Market represents so many things that I love: strangers with a common bond, a community space in use, vibrant colors and smells…and goat cheese. Beyond the goat cheese, the world of the mulefa reminded me of what I love about farmers markets and what they represent. Farmers markets are a wonderful niche where relationships and trust in these relationships govern. Farmers markets represent a world that I hope for and respect. One where we do not only see those who live beside us. Where we are engaged and conscious of our actions. Where we prioritize connecting with each other. Where we appreciate the creations of the Earth. Where we appreciate togetherness. Where we even have togetherness in the first place.

These concepts are second nature for the mulefas. As Mary Malone witnessed, they worked in pairs to tie knots making their nets:

“When she saw how they worked, not on their own but two by two, working their trunks together to tie a knot, she realized why they’d been so astonished by her hands, because of course she could tie knots on her own. At first she felt that this gave her an advantage—she needed no one else—and then she realized how it cut her off from others.”

We live in a world that often prioritizes efficiency where faster is better, and making two at a time is better than one. We live in a world of competition, where we automatically seek an advantage over others. I remember my own tendencies toward these ideals. Maybe its just a part of growing up but I felt like high school was governed by competition and competing for efficiency. You were only taking one AP course?— That’s fine, I can handle 4. You had to miss dance to do homework?— Gosh, you worry too much, I can write that paper in an hour. You don’t want to go out?— You’re probably just spending time with your family again. It felt like everything could be used against me. I was careful of my words. I was tentative in my actions. I was hurt—a lot. This competition defined my high school relationships. For this reason, I felt that I needed time with my parents by the end of the day to simply recharge. What was it about being at home for me that was so fulfilling? I knew that I walked into our door, could set my backpack down, and be me. Whatever that was that day, my parents were eager to support it. My family knew who I felt most comfortable being. I was free to be. My relationship with my family is not built on this competition. Instead, we function on a level of interdependence. I feel so lucky to have this relationship. Still I think what I love about my family most is that we love, truly love, each other for who we are. Its that precedent that makes me feel welcome and I am forever thankful for that. I am proud of the way my parents instilled the value of coveting these relationships. From a young age, I recognized that even if I could skate the fastest or draw the neatest, it wasn’t fun if it made my sister or brother mad because they were my playmates. We usually would create a game where everyone’s talents were being used differently. We loved to play “neighbors”. Just like it sounds, we would live in separate rooms and write letters back and forth, have dinner together, have play dates with out stuffed animals, etc. My little brother often would be the mail man because he couldn’t read the letters but also didn’t want to be still for very long so he would deliver the mail and we would also read his letters to him at the same time. Advantages in the world of my family would do exactly as Mary discovered—cut us off from each other. I’ve realized that we just never were taught to think in terms of advantages or disadvantages. The terminology was centered around differing strengths and working together to recognize how to maximize strengths. In my high school, competition was clearly emotionally exhausting to me. I felt that I always had to be on guard, as anything could be used against me. I knew these relationships were unhealthy and not fulfilling but I didn’t really worry about delving into the reasoning until I didn’t live at home and have that haven to recharge in.

College is a competitive world too, especially UVa. We are all in this realm of overachieving, overcommitting, and exceeding expectations. UVa culture has this amazing idea that everyone should be able to somehow drink their body weight from Thursday to Sunday, take over 15 credits, double major, lead an organization, and get all A’s doing it. So what changed in college that has enabled me to not be emotionally exhausted in this environment? The relationships still must be competitive? I think I am the one the changed. Or really the opposite of changed—I solidified, recognized that I can just be me, like I had known so well within my home. Another beautiful thing about the mulefa world is that their lifestyle not only encourages relationships between each other but also with the world. The mulefa marvel at the beauty of it, treasure the interconnectedness of it, and prioritize their dependence on it. The mulefa instill an amazing quality of appreciating life and the value of your own. Competition can instill the opposite ideal. Competition made me question myself—she said that her idea was better? Is it really? Competition made me see one solution as the correct one—compromise isn’t a priority. The mulefas represent the alternative; “they could discuss without quarelling and cooperate without getting in each other’s way” (pg365). I realized that these beautiful relationships that govern their world that I envy so much are built on an interdependence but that there is something more. I remembered that “interdependence” can have a negative connotation for me too. I’ve realized that relationships that are emotionally draining are ones with people who are dependent on me—“you’re the only one who makes me happy”, “you have to, I don’t have anyone else”. I felt trapped. It was one-sided. This, I’m realizing is dependence, not the interdependence I witness in the mulefa world. The difference is an intrinsic value for both parties. The mulefa do not depend on, and there for fully deplete, the seed pods. Instead, both depend on each other since both have values that the other recognizes. The relationship doesn’t drain resources but actually allows them to last. Building this kind of relationship requires an awareness of connectivity and an appreciation for life and each other. Without recognizing the interconnectedness of our world, it is difficult to see that these relationships might even exist or at least be of value. Further, without an appreciation for each other and other living things, we don’t see the value of seeking out relationships that replenish each other as opposed to beating others down. We don’t see the value in decisions where everyone wins. We don’t see that these decisions exist. Mary begins to embody this when she is on the platform in the canopies. She refers to a feeling of bliss: she is alone yet surrounded by the songs of hundreds of birds, murmuring waves, rustling leaves. She recollects the feeling of being alive, a concept that is difficult to do since we are doing it everyday. She appreciates the touch of Atal’s trunk, the taste of bacon and eggs, the warmth of her bed. These sensations recognize the value of living, one prerequisite, I argue, for a healthy kind of interdependence. However, in addition, these are items that are personal to Mary, the values that she has, the things that she likes. I’ve always loved living. I think its because the interconnectedness of things has always been a natural way to see our world. I am always looking for commonalities between us and differences that enrich our relationships, not divide them. But what I was missing was the solidarity in being me. Relationships seem to go awry when I am questioning what it is that makes me feel alive. I need to be confident in loving The feeling of holding warm tea in a jar. The taste of swiss chard and eggs. The smell of stinky socks, and the way I ignore it sometimes because I like wearing them so much. Knowing you’ve made someone’s day. Knowing you’ve ruined it. Not regretting it. My out of practice fingers still finding that same Christmas medley on the piano. The taste of wanting to brush your teeth. The sight of old people smiling. The feeling of a knit scarf around my neck. The sound of voices in harmony and one voice in passionate dissonance. Feeling that passion. That moment when you sleep talk and think, “wait, I just said something out loud…”. Hugging, warm and honest. Laughing on the floor, with limbs having no where to go but up. Sitting five people on our couch. Feeling blankets pulled up over my neck. Trying to dance while running.

But I think most importantly, I need to remember that interdependence becomes dependence pretty quickly if the other person can’t make this list for themselves.

DMU Timestamp: February 10, 2012 21:22





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