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Hokuloa
Shrinking Universe
The Morning and Evening Star
A Journal of Thought and Ideas Fall 2010
Cover art, ―Sunset‖ by Jordan Forte
The opinions expressed in the Hokuloa are the work of the authors and artists alone an...
Cogitamus, ergo sumus
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  1. 1. 1 Hokuloa Shrinking Universe The Morning and Evening Star A Journal of Thought and Ideas Fall 2010
  2. 2. Cover art, ―Sunset‖ by Jordan Forte The opinions expressed in the Hokuloa are the work of the authors and artists alone and do not represent the views of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day saints, Brigham Young University-Hawaii, or the editors. Copyright C 2010 BYU-Hawaii Honors Program. Copyright for individual work is retained by the individual authors and artists.
  3. 3. Cogitamus, ergo sumus
  4. 4. Hokuloa The Morning and Evening Star The Honors Journal of Thought and Ideas Fall 2010
  5. 5. Shrinking Universe Chief Editor Stephanie Bravo Assistant Editors Sara Bezdjian Xauntal Brightman Riley Mills Faculty Advisor Randal Allred Faculty Editorial board James Tueller Yifen Beus Keith Lane Randal Allred Hokuloa
  6. 6. Editor‘s Note The Hokuloa is a journal of thought; its name is a Hawaiian word for The Morning and Evening Star, or Ve- nus, which ancient Hawaiians looked to as a guide. As the journal bears this name, it is the goal of the Hokuloa to pub- lish intellectual ideas and thoughts that one can look to for inspiration and leadership. The following are an original collection of short es- says, poems, and photographs submitted by students of BYU -Hawaii. It is our hope that the thoughts of these students will spark deeper thoughts by those who read, and that those thoughts may turn into conversations to bring change. Per- haps the challenge will only be in the mind of one person; if so, our journal will have achieved its purpose as a guide for free thinking and higher learning. The philosopher Rene Descartes once said, cogito ergo sum—I think, therefore I am. As members of the Honors Program and the editorial staff of Hokuloa, we offer you the thoughts of students be- cause we believe that as people, we think, therefore we are. Sincerely, Stephanie Bravo Sara Bezdjian Xauntal Brightman Riley Mills Makemson, Maud W. ―Hawaiian Astronomical Concepts II.‖ American Anthro- pologist, New Series. 41 (4): 589-596. Blackwell Publishing. June 20, 2008 Hokuloa
  7. 7. Table of Contents Essays 1 Rachel Wynder Shrinking Universe 2 Ashley Oborn Share 4 Kara Orr Discrimination. Not Okay 10 Mariah Hunt The Conflict of Question 16 Sara Bezdjian Hamlet 19 Taylor Rippy Land of Legend Poetry 8 Jeanelle Hollenbaugh Divine Fingertips 9 Annette Campbell Shrinking Universe 17 Stephanie Bravo Distortion 18 E.j. Hernandez From This School Photography 3 Jordan Forte Nature 7 Danica Contor Salutations 9 Annette Campbell Laie Temple 13 Sara Bezdjian Untitled 14 Jordan Forte Butterfly 16 Jordan Forte Beach 18 Taylor Rippy Untitled
  8. 8. 1 Shrinking Universe Rachel Wynder One night after attending a church conference in my stake, my spirit was lifted and I was anxious to contain the joy in my heart. I went into my bedroom and knelt to praise God for all the blessings that He pours from heaven. I thanked God that I was privileged to be here on earth and I thanked Him for allowing us to speak to Him through prayer. As I thanked God, I had the sudden inclination to pray for my friends. So I prayed for my friends and then for the people in my community. I prayed that missionary work would reach out to them. While I prayed for them, my mind opened and I saw people from all around the world. I saw a woman from India and God helped me understand that this woman was my sister. I saw an old man from Iceland and I knew that he was my brother. I saw a child from Namibia and he too was a child of God. I suddenly understood that everyone in the world was related to me because every one was a child of God. When I comprehended this, I felt a love for each and every one of them and I wanted them all to return to Heav- enly Father so we could all be together again. For me the universe shrank when God permitted me to experience a minuscule portion of His love for us His children. So it was that night I discovered that every breathing be- ing was my brother and my sister.
  9. 9. Share Ashley Oborn We have been given a gentle, precious gift and we rely on it as much as it relies on us. I have been made increasingly aware of our duty as children of our Heav- enly Father that we must be ―stewards‖ of the earth. As I attend school here at BYU Hawaii I ask myself often what I am doing to be a steward- am I recycling? Am I limiting my carbon footprint? Am I doing my part to take care of the Earth? In the recent past I have seen so many ―green‖ movements come about. More and more people are turning their hearts to nature and becoming friends with their environment. We have done so much damage to our life-giving orb and now we are scaling the peak of destruction - our natu- ral resources have been heavily depleted and we are in an arms race over who can create the most eco-friendly tools. It is somewhat refreshing to see so many companies trying to help the environment that they have taken their part in demolishing, but it is heartbreaking that have we reached this point. Are our technologies worth the loss of nature? It is not that we must acquire the tools to live environmentally friendly - we must first obtain consciousness of the importance of that friendship. It‘s all in a matter of proactive perspective. If we start with small and simple deeds - turning the water off as we brush our teeth, recycling our milk jugs, picking up that broken bottle on the beach - our consciousness will grow little by little. Soon we will realize we need a healthy connection to nature to live a happy life, and the way to start is by sharing and making friends with the Earth. 2
  10. 10. Nature Jordan Forte 3
  11. 11. Discrimination. Not Okay. Kara Orr My background and opinions: if I‘m white and don't have an ac- cent, I MUST be one of those Americans. People automatically assume that my ancestral ties are somehow linked to every death and brutality known to man because I am so obviously American. Talk about being prematurely judged. I am an LDS female American; clarification, I am an LDS female Dutch American mixed with a WIDE variety of other nationalities. Being a female in a generation where being called a "sexy b****" is a form of flattery is hard. Being a Mormon with all the uproar having to do with homosexu- ality is hard. Living in a state where many locals hold ill feelings towards Americans for the many wrongs done to them is hard. I am me, I am of worth, and I should not have to live by these ri- diculous images that people hold of me. More often than not, when turning on the radio, all the newest hip- hop songs refer to women with words that once upon a time were exces- sively degrading. I am constantly shocked as I listen to the lyrics and many are actually singing about how they love the girl that they are refer- ring to in such terms. Not only are songs referring to women inappropri- ately through these ‗pet names,‘ but the reasons they list for loving them are superficial; constantly referring to the sexiness of their bodies and the way they move that body suggestively. I dance the robot more often than not; -50 points on their defined score of sexiness. I‘m not a stick with a chest; -100. I dress modestly; that just kicked me to the curb. Through my life I have had many friends. Kelsey, Anna, Whitney, Sammee, Pono, Hallie, Ricky, Pedro… I could go on forever, all of which were Americans, but with various differences in lineage from my own. All of these friends I hold dear to my life. I have never seen any differ- ence between us, they are merely people that love and care about me. I also have many friends that hold various views and orientations of sexual- ity; they are nonetheless the still great friends I've always seen them to be. So why is it, I have to fear for my grades, my safety, my life? All for the 4
  12. 12. color of my skin. In a math class last year, I was told I would fail because I was a white American and as a white American I would think myself too good to actually do the work. I was told on a regular basis how as an American I held myself in much higher esteem than my other classmates and should not be so discriminating and ―condescending,‖ even though none of us ―white kids‖ ever said a word to back that statement. I kept track of my grades online and felt good as I sat in the higher percentage of my class knowing that I would prove this professor wrong about all Americans be- ing lazy. After all my assignments were done I sat at a marvelous 94, but when I got my final grades for the classes, somehow I got an 87. I was marked down because of "participation points." I can recall very distinctly answering questions in class on many occasions, doing problems on the board, turning in all homework. My at- tendance wasn‘t perfect, but not enough to drop me that much. The pro- fessor gave us opportunities to redeem our tardies, but many times I would opt out on not cleaning the white board, it didn‘t prove anything to me about the importance of being on time. If I was marked down for atti- tude, I would invite that professor to take a class, for a whole semester, where that professor is constantly bombarded on being so selfish and stu- pid, and do it with a smile. We all have our off days anyway; mine just seemed to occur when I walked through that classroom door. I know I am not the only student with that professor who longed to defend ourselves; I watched class after class as we suffered subjection and my peers and I squirmed in our seats. I recall one of my peers never really returning after asking an honest question and being laughed at and told that on the inside he screamed white although on the outside he looked another ethnicity. Many of the wrongs done to people of other countries by Ameri- cans that I am constantly being convicted of happened before 1900. My family came to America AFTER 1900, and yet I still am labeled with what happened before that time. There are some Hawaiians that look down on me for my fair skin and put on me the burden of guilt for the death and oppressions of their ancestors. The official annexation of Ha- waii was in 1898, and all the other acts that went along with that deemed unfair happened before that date. Yet, as I set out to explore and truly un- derstand the beauty that is Hawaii, I walk by signs such as "if you are not 5
  13. 13. blood, you will bleed." and "filthy whites, stole our land and lives, we should repay the favor." The first settlers that settled America were definitely settling be- fore 1900 and the countries most tied with that are Spain, France, and England. Where I come from, we live next to a reservation and part of our paychecks go to the Native Americans to settle the past damages; they have for a long time. I‘ve often wondered why we are still paying today and have often been met with the answer that there is not enough money in the world that will right the wrong, and I still ask then, why are we trying if it will get us nowhere? As for slavery, my ancestors were so dirt poor they had to borrow money from the Queen of Holland to come to America. They wouldn't have been able to afford slave labor and they weren't wealthy enough to associate with those that could afford it. My Dutch background has set an example to me. Anybody know where Friesland, Holland is? Oh yeah that's right, you probably wouldn't because it was overrun too, and the country completely collapsed. Sound familiar? In World War II, Holland was overrun by the German army and the Queen was driven from the throne. It was not a Jewish country; there were Jews and non Jews. But any person that defended or hid Jews was sent to concentration camps with the Jews. Anybody hear of Corrie Ten Boom? She is my hero. She was persecuted, struggled, lived, and for- gave. She lost family, friends, self-worth in concentration camps. In her book, The Hiding Place, near the end, she recounts her experiences after the war. She went to church one sunny day and came across an officer that had beaten her, spit in her face, and displayed many other forms of brutality towards Corrie. Fear struck her heart along with anger, but then she just realized it was right to forgive. And she HUGGED that officer. What greater show of forgiveness could be portrayed?! She is my hero for her example. So why was she able to forgive her direct oppressor as the op- pressed while as descendants from many horrible acts many, many gen- erations later, we cannot forgive each other and get along? I wish I knew. I know this essay will probably invoke some negative emotions at first read, but I plead that you sit back and really think and that if you‘re still angered you justify your reasoning. The world is definitely less defined 6
  14. 14. by countries as we all intermingle along the shores and lands of all conti- nents. We have to learn to live harmoniously with each other because we are all living together, now more than ever. I am here to learn about culture to increase awareness and accep- tance, not to force my ―overbearing American culture‖ on others, but somehow I can‘t avoid the stereotypes. My name is Kara. I do not discriminate. I do not humiliate. I do not hate. I love. What do YOU do? 7 Salutations Danica Contor
  15. 15. Divine Fingertips Jeanelle Hollenbaugh A field of tulips paints so kind a stemless dream inside my mind. The glowing shades of purple light e'er tempt my soul to leave behind my greatest golds for this soft sight, to flee from home quite late at night and catch the sun 'fore sky can bind. With toes tucked into petaled grass, I marvel down on lilac glass. Perfumes o'ercome my senses sweet: no balm I've known that can surpass. Celestial palms uphold my feet. My soles hold so divine a beat. God, I and Nature here amass. And while we stand here all combined, my wandering thoughts have since refined and taken no harsh detour slight, so here the picture sits. Alas, a monument to lilac glass. My dream of worlds blooms now so kind. See, Heaven's sight can heal the blind. 8
  16. 16. Shrinking Universe Annette Campbell Hold on keep up don't falter Stay strong be bold Procrastinate not Keep the faith when everything seem to fail Shrink not to things that are True Be the example attend the Temple Remember , Remember, Remember Shrink not to things that are true Laie Temple Annette Campbell 9
  17. 17. The Conflict of Question Mariah Hunt I was recumbent, beneath the transparent leaves of a sycamore tree. This was the same sycamore tree that lined the streets of the beauti- ful neighborhood that my sister and I had intruded. The houses here were designed in the 1940s – the ―fab-forties‖ is what the neighborhood is dubbed – and are now replete with BMWs and a second coat of whatever house-paint is now in vogue. We like this neighborhood; we can drive down the streets and fantasize about living inside the large, elegant boxes. In the center of this neighborhood is a small playground, safe for Sacra- mento, probably due to the sturdy gate surrounding the small, leaved area. The gate makes the park feel as though it‘s meant for the people who somehow manage to pay for these beautiful houses. But more impor- tantly, it ensures that my sister‘s two young boys won‘t have a chance to escape and that my sister and I can feel as though we are indeed intruding. It was a clear and bright day; in fact it was the day before I left for Hawai'i to continue school. My sister and I talked about her eldest, Logan, while we both tried to prevent her youngest from putting anything of question into her 9-month-old mouth. These seemingly small affairs are what occupy my sister's day, and occupied she certainly is. I often play the role of intruder with my sister; I intrude on her daily actions and very personally interpret them to represent my own potential actions. She is the representative of young-Mormon-motherhood for me. She might as well wear a name tag of some sort. She graduated with honors but she has de- cided to devote herself to her family. She stays at home while her husband works at his father‘s pest control company and goes to school at night. Elizabeth, of course, has no say in which of her actions represent motherhood to me; they are simply the ones that reflect my preconceived notions or insecurities. When she is sad, motherhood is sad; when she so lovingly teaches her child something new, this is what all mothers do. She does not have an occupation other than motherhood and therefore there can be no other means of occupation when a mother. She is what I will be when I am a mother. Or at least it seems that way. My sister is eight years older than I am, and I often feel as though she has forgotten what it is to be my age. She is frequently frustrated by 10
  18. 18. my habits, clothing, musical preferences, and mostly that any number of these things might be preventing me from dating. She lovingly seems to know that I will get married, that I will be a mother and that I will be like she is. It's just a matter of time and maturity. As if time actually provoked that thing called maturity. Elizabeth, Liz, is taller than me, she dyes her red hair blonde and wears make-up. She wears ―flattering‖ clothing, runs after her kids in four-inch heels, and her husband thinks she's ―hot.‖ She is beautiful and a wonderful mother. She and I are different, but she some- times forgets this, and I suppose I often do too. Liz graduated from col- lege when she was 24; she waved to her husband and nine-month-old baby in the stands when she walked in her cap and gown and colorful sashes to receive her diploma. I am 21, the age Liz was when she was married; I will graduate in a little more than a year. One night we were in my parent's kitchen, idly cleaning whatever was left in the sink. I began to lament about the confusion that is involved in deciding my future in response to some question on her part. ―I'd like to do journalism, but I've never really worked for a paper. . . I really like my major, but I don't feel like it's preparing me for work, you know? I don't feel trained for anything. I guess I'll probably go to grad school and figure it out.‖ Elizabeth looked irritated, pursed her lips, cocked her eyebrows, let her hands drop from the dishes she was doing and kind of tilted her head the way she always does when she knows that what I'm saying is ridiculous and short sighted. ―I don't know, Mariah.‖ But she did know. ―You should probably just pick something you would be good at like interior design or piano lessons and just do that.‖ She paused. ―You probably shouldn't be somewhere that you can't find a boyfriend.‖ Her voice was sounding particularly agitated, kind of weak, like it does some- times before you're going to cry. ―You're not going to have time to do something like journalism when you have kids,‖ she said. I was confused by her reaction and attempted to explain some sort of unworked plan to somehow mix the two important endeavors of moth- erhood and education. 11
  19. 19. She interrupted me with a slight scoff, and then my mother inter- vened. Shortly thereafter the subject was changed. My sister and I are so much different, but we're also the same. We're both meant to be mothers, and I feel nothing but guilt when I ac- knowledge that this designation isn't something I might choose without the influence of my religion. In fact, I‘m openly avoiding the possibility of this calling at the moment. This is a calling that has been decided by a loving prophet and God himself, and yet I inherently underestimate its importance. I fantasize about academic aspirations, that if I follow this God given path, are almost impossible to achieve. My sister was probably trying to tell me this, and I knew she was right. However, my sister‘s reaction to my disregard so perfectly repre- sented a fear of my own. She did not simply inform me that my duties were elsewhere, that I will be a mother and that that will make me happier than any degree or position could. She sounded insecure, frustrated, and authoritative: ―you have to do this, because this is what I do,‖ in so many words. This was probably far from her thoughts, but right now her thoughts were mine; my insecurities her flushed cheeks and frustration; I had intruded once again. Her reaction seemed to thinly veil that insecu- rity. It was now what every mother‘s reaction would be, or really what mine might be: one of doubt. I got up from my recumbent view of the soft green leaves and walked to the side of the park where there was a large stone wall separat- ing the park from a cemetery. The kids and my sister met me there. Eliza- beth looked really lovely that day, holding her new little girl who has her same wispy, strawberry hair. She was standing without shoes on the grass and smiling. She told the two eager boys about the old castle on the other side of the wall, which they couldn't see, and that they would have to imagine. We then raced around the inside of the park until we couldn't run any longer, packed up our things, and drove home. 12
  20. 20. 13 Untitled Sara Bezdjian
  21. 21. Butterfly Jordan Forte 14
  22. 22. Hamlet Sara Bezdjian Kenneth Branagh‘s Hamlet, released in 1996, is an epic that ex- plicitly proves Branagh‘s skill in the realm of Shakespeare not only as an actor but also as an interpreter and a director. As an accomplished veteran of Shakespeare, Branagh had performed the stage production of Hamlet over 200 times before filming his full-length version. This gave him fore- knowledge and experience to make Hamlet his own. Filmed in 70 mm, this colorful and grandiose work features an all-star cast and is an accu- rate presentation of Shakespeare‘s classic. One of the first scenes is Claudius‘ wedding announcement to the court. The slim figure of Hamlet dressed in black juxtaposes the colorful clothes of the nobles and the nuptial dress of Hamlet‘s mother [and mar- tial suit of his uncle]. The camera watches the two newlyweds prance down the hall from behind the thrones, or in Hamlet‘s point of view. The confetti falling and then Hamlet‘s first soliloquy in the empty room are moving. Branagh varies between soft words and yelling, which perfectly shows Hamlet‘s agitated state of mind. Branagh is excellent at meshing flashbacks and simultaneous events to the present action. The shots cutting to Fortinbras are great be- cause we have a visual connection before Fortinbras physically shows up to Elsinore. The scene of Hamlet‘s interaction with the Ghost is also done especially well. We hear the whisperings of the Ghost in voice over while we see Claudius murdering King Hamlet in his garden. Another example of Branagh‘s flashbacks is his decision to make the last lines of Hamlet‘s love letter to Ophelia in live action. We see Hamlet saying to his lover, ―O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers‖ which helps us understand the depth of their relationship in just a few minutes of screen time. The setting of the castle is perfect for Hamlet. It features many secret passageways, two-way mirrors, and a beautiful checkered floor. The main hall is ideal for Hamlet‘s third soliloquy, his famous ―to be or not to be‖ speech. With Polonius and Claudius listening behind a mirror, Hamlet gives this speech, literally to himself, in one of the mirrors. Then after he drags Ophelia to all the mirrors, he pushes her face up against the mirror (possibly) unknowingly to the view of Polonius and Claudius. The 15
  23. 23. uncomfortable, resonant image of Ophelia against the glass really shows Hamlet‘s descent into violence. After Hamlet‘s murder of Polonius, Claudius comes into the room and goes back out into the hall, all without a cut in the camera work. Branagh is expert at doing long, continuous tracking shots that circle around and through the characters. These long tracking shots give the film a flowing feel very unlike the quick action cuts in Zeffirelli‘s Hamlet. Overall Branagh illuminates Shakespeare‘s text with talented ac- tors who can tell the story realistically. In the interviews that came with the DVD, many of the main characters comment how Branagh wanted Shakespeare to sound as if it made sense (at least as modern viewers would understand it). Branagh had the actors read their parts with him individually and made sure they understood what they were saying before filming. This version of Hamlet is beautiful and perfect in its totality. As Branagh says, Hamlet ―gives you kind of an unconditional feeling. It gives you something. It's poetry and it nourishes the soul.‖ 16 Beach Jordan Forte
  24. 24. Distortion Stephanie Bravo We look in the mirror and see dissatisfaction engraved on our faces. We hate the bodies we posses, our sense of beauty distorted. We blame the media, attacking us with ads of high fashion, sunken cheeks and protruding ribs on our idols, irrational standards of perfection. Yet we devour every word, every image: perfect stick figures draped in luxury flawless airbrushed faces advertising your perfect shade Aesthetic illusions pleasing to the eye, enveloping our minds, driving us to starvation, frustration, rejection of our bleak reality. Enlarge here, reduce there, never good enough as-is. Cutting, stretching, stitching, a new self made to order. But really this is just a cycle of never-ending dissatisfaction. 17
  25. 25. From This School E.j. Hernandez There is a place in beautiful Hawaii, Where colors and race all seems in style, Acceptance and friendship that never break, Brotherhood instilled like icing on cake. From Royal London to the Philippines, Majestic Mongolia to Idaho Springs, This men and women that study here, Trained to be leaders by the university, Brigham Young University- Hawaii, A place where pristine beauties are nearby, And from this school will be people of worth, To show integrity and leadership to the world. 18 Untitled Taylor Rippy
  26. 26. Land of Legend Taylor Rippy Magical doesn't even begin to describe this island. There's something about the tropics that's enchanting; maybe it's the air that smells like sugar cane, the plumerias that swirl around your bare feet as the warm night trade winds ruffle your hair, the way the lazy sun tints your skin like a marshmallow over fading coals. Aside from the utter dreaminess of it all, there are things about this place that simply make you smile. The local kids, kicking stones and singing on their way home from the tiny elementary school down the street. The stray cat that curls up on the downstairs doorstep, a reliable greeting after a day of classes. The scar that trails down his wise little face, cocked at an angle as he rests sleeping. Or the rooster that lives in the yard, patrolling the premises hour after hour. He is the self-appointed alarm clock of the neighborhood, perhaps a dysfunctional one—I don't know of anyone that wants to be woken up at 4 am. It's the view out of my window, the awe- striking jagged mountains that stretch up into the misty clouds. Legend is that the gods rested their canoes against these peaks, creating the deep grooves that run from base to pinnacle. I love living in a land of legend. 19
  27. 27. Brigham Young University Hawaii University Honors Program Hokuloa Fall 2010

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