1. Explanation and
Description of my Bench
I visited Carisbrooke Park, where
there are quite a lot of benches to choose from, some that looked like they
were installed yesterday, and some other ones that were in a more traditional,
older style that had signs of aging on them. I chose a bench that was tucked
into the undergrowth at the side of the trail; one that looked to be the least
looked after, the least cared about, or the most forgotten out of all of the
benches. This bench had lichen and moss all over it, showing that no care has
been given to keep it clean. It was dusted with pine needles, showing that
nobody has sat there earlier today, and it over all looked sort of neglected.
It had three wooden two by fours as the back rest and four wooden two by fours
as the seat. All of these were covered in lichen and discoloration from years
of sitting out in the rain, but surprisingly these did not have any rot damage.
These pieces of wood were secured to two bent metal pipes painted green
(however the paint was chipping and peeling in many places, to leave behind
rust). They were secured via bolts, however these bolts lost all grey color to
rust, in fact every part of the bench where metal was showing was all rusty.
This bench appealed to me, I wanted to write about it, because it seemed like
nobody cared about it, and the only people who (in my mind) would want to sit
on such a bench would be the sort of people who want to hide from society,
those who want to be left alone, adding a bit of mystery to this bench. Nature
appeared to be consuming this bench, with false lilies of the valley (a small
plant that looks like a bunch of hostas) growing underneath it and just about
poking through the gap between the backrest and the seat. It had a large bush
growing to the left of it (when facing the bench) that was covering your view
of part of the bench, creating the impression that nature was swallowing this
bench. It had no inscription whatsoever; it was a nameless bench that was
forgotten by society. This bench wasn’t out in the open, either, it was backed
by small trees and shrubs so it felt better than say, another bench in the
middle of the field.
2. My Experience from
the Bench
From this bench, I could see the
church across Osborne Road, with some of its stained glass and walls covered by
a young tree in the park. This young tree was about twenty meters away from me,
and all around it were much larger trees, such as douglas firs, cedars, and
maples, all with very large trunks speckled with lichen. Separating this stand
of trees from me was a small clearing covered in some very nice green grass.
Underneath these trees were some park benches, a small amphitheater, and to the
left was a children’s play place made out of colorful plastic. I could see
Lonsdale Avenue, with cars zipping up and down it. I could ignore the noise
that these cars made because it was so constant that it almost sounded like
white noise – leaving me to listen to the birds chirping high up in the trees.
Across the winding path that is in front of the bench there were hostas and a
spectacular Japanese maple, its red leaves shining in the light. Above these I
can see the trees trying to scrape the sky. When I turned to the right,
however, my vision was blocked out by the bush I mentioned earlier (the one
attempting to consume the bench). This bench is positioned so magnificently
that you are within nature, a part of nature, without feeling like you are disturbing
it in any way. I feel as though the state I was in as I sat on the bench was
the most tranquil I have been while sitting on a bench in a park, as though I
was I was connected with nature. I didn’t want to go anywhere, I just wanted to
sit there and ponder how beautiful nature is, how peaceful the park is, and why
everybody doesn’t just take a break to smell the roses. I knew that I had to
leave eventually, and I was fine with that, I didn’t feel like I needed to stay
in order to remain in that state. The first time I had visited Carisbrooke
Park, and the only other time, was about ten months ago. Lying on this bench
was a homeless man, sleeping. During this visit I wondered how that man was
doing and how he feels about life, nature, and existence in his disposition. I
worried about whether his life is doing better, if he is better off now than he
was then. I wondered how often people worry about the homeless they pass on the
street, and whether they think about what life decisions led to peoples
homelessness. Everybody is a person, but does everybody think about the
homeless as people and help them as such? People fail to observe so much, there
is outstanding beauty in life that we choose to pass by. Sitting there I was
happy to watch nature: the Japanese maple’s leaves swaying in the breeze, the
huckleberry bush becoming intertwined with a young cedar, the shadows of the Douglas
fir’s branches dancing across the English daisy speckled grass. Maybe it is
just the park which was beautiful, but I feel like all of nature is that serine
if people just took a moment and stopped thinking about the past or the future,
about upcoming dates or past embarrassments. On that bench, in that park, I
felt like everything was all right, like everybody and everything around me was
my friend, and I was in tune with nature. That bench has nothing special about
it – if you look at it, that bench appears to be just an old bench that is
covered in filth – but to me it is more than that through my experience on it.
3. A Bench Dedicated
to Me
If
a bench were dedicated to me, I would like the bench to sit somewhere quiet,
underneath a tree or near a lake. I would like it to be somewhere where nobody
would reasonably expect a bench to be, probably in the middle of the
wilderness. A perfect place for my bench would be somewhere on Triangle Island,
that’s an island a relatively small distance north east of Vancouver Island,
with a population zero, unless you count wildlife. This spot is perfect, since
nobody expects a bench to be on Triangle Island, since barely anybody goes
there, and yet my bench would be there, looking out across the great Pacific
Ocean. I want it to be isolated because this provokes thought in anybody who
happens to stumble across my bench. The few who do see my bench would think
“why is it there” or “who would put it there”, much better thoughts than those
thought when people walk by benches in Stanley Park, which I would imagine to
be very minimal since not many people think when they walk past a bench in such
a bench-ridden place. My bench would be scarred by the sun, the sea, and the
weather; it would be sun bleached and covered in lichen, but this is how I
would want my bench to be. Similar to the bench that I found, I want my bench
to be eaten by nature and forgotten by people, so that when somebody finds my
bench, much like when I found the bench I wrote about, it invokes deep thought
and creates a sense of peace in people that they cannot usually find in their
everyday life. If I had a bench inscribed to me, it wouldn’t be a bench of
action (a “useful to sit on” bench), I would like it to be a bench that people
see occasionally and think about the unusual person who put it there, or rather
how unusual it is that a bench would be there. This is because I am not a man
of actions, nor have I ever been. I am nowhere near the strongest, fastest, or
most skilled athlete, but what I would like to think of myself as a person who
thinks, a person who looks at things from a different angle and ponders things
that others might not dedicate the effort to pondering. As such, I would also
like the inscription on my bench to also be more thought provoking rather than
inspiring, and maybe I would even give up the words about me as a person for
words that provoke thought. Saying “to a loved friend and companion” might
bring up memories to the people who knew that person, but not to the general
public, and so having a person-specific inscription would not work for me. I
want my inscription to be an unanswered question, like a book without a
conclusion or a story without an ending. I would want it to read something
along the lines of “Only when you are alone with your mind can you attain a
level of understanding of yourself”. This would tie in perfectly with the
isolation of my bench and would create thoughts in the readers head about his
or herself, it makes you think about how you are as a person and how often you
take a step back and take a sober look at who you are. Sure this doesn’t
represent me or bring up memories of me, but saying “a friend” doesn’t bring
those feelings up anyways in most people, so why bother. If anybody does come
to know me and they see this bench, they will remember me all the same for my
thoughts, rather than forcing some remembrance upon someone by using phrases
such as “a good pall”.
4. A Bench Dedicated
by Me
If
I were to dedicate a bench to somebody, I would probably dedicate it to
somebody who I know the most and I have the deepest relationship with, as would
anybody else. Since I don’t have any deep relationships, I would probably
dedicate it to my brother or my parents, or my family in general (the people
who raised me and cared for me). As I said before, I am a thinker, and so is my
family, but I wouldn’t like to place my family’s bench out in the wilderness
where nobody would see it, since I feel like that isolation is reserved for a
one person bench (my bench), and so I would like for this bench to be in a nice
place, such as at the peak of Greenwood Park (with a nice view and occasional
people walking up to see the city). This position is well visited and it would
be looked after by the people who visit the park. With the inscription, I would
try and not be cheesy, since this is supposed to invoke feelings and not
disgust, and so I would make it along the lines of “Caring, but not blindly.
Loving, but with reason to love. They are a family, but also a group of
friends.” This, I feel, would convey how gracious and wonderful my family is
without sounding too cheesy. If I were to dedicate a bench to anybody else, I
don’t know what I would do, since I need to know the person in order to know
what to write or where to place it; everybody is a story, and every story is
different, so I need to read the story in order to summarize it.
5. Journal Response about
the Park
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Today I visited Carisbrooke Park.
As I drove into the parking lot above the park, I felt the sunshine going
through my windshield and onto my skin, warming me; it was a good day to find a
bench. As I stepped out and onto the path I saw the wind rustling the trees,
tall oaks and Douglas Firs, Cedars scraping the sky, all slowly swaying in the
wind. The sun was out and shining but the heat was countered by the wind,
leaving me with a perfect temperature for a walk, but a bit too cold for
standing around. I decided to stroll all the way around the park, looking at
each individual bench, its position and location, and read the inscription.
Some didn’t have any inscription (such as the one I chose), and some had not
very insightful, or good in my view, inscriptions, such as “a friend who will
be missed”. These made me upset; I’m sure that man who is gone now cannot be
fully summarized as a friend, and so why would you make such a closed statement
about him? I continued my walk, taking notice of the wonderful old amphitheater
that was there. I read on a sign that it was built in 1913, with the first
concert being held there in august of the same year. 1913, before World War One
had began, when the thought of rock and roll hadn’t even developed yet in the
public’s mind. What kind of music would be played, swing? This park, these
trees that I walked past, were all from much before me, and many of them will
still be alive when I am gone, a very sobering thought. I found a bench that
was snuggled away in the trees and the underbrush, and I immediately loved it;
it was forgotten and nobody seemed to want it, and so I came to write about
that bench because of these qualities. As I was writing about the bench, while
sitting on the bench, I lost track of time and before I knew it an hour and a
half had passed, and so I stood up, picked up my things and left the park. It’s
a shame that more people don’t go to parks on a regular basis, but I suppose it
adds more meaning in the park to the people who do.
6. A Poem for my Bench
The mists rise over by Yamabe no Akahito
The mists rise over
The Waters at Asuka;
Memory does not
Pass away so easily
I
chose “The mists rise over” to represent my bench, because (even though I
already reviewed this poem before) it adds a deeper meaning to the bench, and
the bench adds a deeper meaning to the poem. On the bench I was very relaxed,
much as Yamabe seems while watching the mists rise over Asuka. Memory doesn’t
pass away easily, meaning the memory of this bench will stick in my mind for a
long time, I won’t forget this experience for a long time, and so this bench
has given me deeper insight into my mind. This bench is a place of meditation,
and it is forgotten by many but my memory will not pass away so easily.
7. My Philosophy
My
philosophy about life is that we, as humans, are only a compilation of our
memories and other people’s memories of us, and so we need to make others have
good memories of us (by improving society as a whole) in order to make others
view us as “good people”. This poem adds a bit to my personal philosophy, since
it states that others memories do not fade easily, meaning others will not
forget the bad or good things you have done. Maybe my philosophy is a bit
simplistic, lacking in moral guidance or views of what is right or wrong, but I
believe that those things are just subjective, and it is the impression that
you leave in other people that determine if you will be remembered as a hero or
as a villain. This poem, similar to my philosophy, doesn’t state about morals
or what is right, but only about others memories.
8. The Parks Purpose
Parks
are for having a space in the city for city people to get away from the busy
hustle of life in a place where people walk shoulder to shoulder. Although
cities are marvelous things with skyscrapers and such, man is not meant to have
stress 24/7, and this is why parks exist. They exist so that people can free
their minds and wipe their minds clear of everything that goes on in the city
and only think about the green grass and the swaying of the trees. Rural areas
largely are park free (except for large areas labeled as parks but truly only
so that people cannot ruin the beauty of nature), because they don’t need to
get away from the city, rural areas are one huge chunk of nature. Parks are so
that people can breathe fresh air, and in my view so that man can return to his
roots, to his ways without TV’s and computers. In my opinion, parks are for
listening to the birds and loving mother earth.
9. My Poem (about my
bench)
Haiku Format
Fog on the forgotten
Summer sees no
visitors
Alone in a crowd
Source
Picture #3 Source: http://www.geog.uvic.ca/viwilds/ve-triangle.html
All other Pictures take by me
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