When you finally realize what it is you’ve been doing this whole time, you learn it’s called choking the chicken.
The thing about identity is, people are always trying to define who you are for you, to tell you what you mean. And we should be interrogating our positions in society, our privilege relative to our oppression, but we should also be skeptical of those who insist we are definitively one thing or another.
“Our American culture has no poetry written into its origin. We inherited our poetry—mostly hymns and heroic couplets—from England, and we’ve tended, since the onset of the Industrial Age, to regard the medium itself as superfluous or frivolous, if not dangerous.”
The Holy Ghost was browsing in his or her library
one day in the future, unaccountably bored,
oddly querulous, vaguely wanting something that would be
quietly unfamiliar. “It doesn’t have to be great,”
said the Holy Ghost with the faintest note of exasperation
in his or her voice, “just so long as it has its own special character.”
Though the Bible offers no specific coordinates (hardly unexpected given that the entirety of the world’s creation was summed up in a few deft lines), it does offer a few clues for religious scholars to puzzle over. Such as the Bible’s mention of Eden’s location near the site of four rivers: the Pishon, the Gihon, the Tigris and the Euphrates. For many, these ancient waterways—two of which still flow throughout western Asia—would confirm Eden’s location in or around modern day Iraq, Syria and Kuwait. Yet Van Slyke had another theory, believing the four rivers referenced were, in fact, the Trempealeau, the Black, the La Crosse, and the Mississippi—thereby confirming Galesville, Wisconsin as Eden’s true locale.