“Each one of us matters, has a role to play, and makes a difference.” — Jane Goodall, The Book of Hope (2021)
Jane Goodall traveled alone in Gombe, save for the man who
filmed a young Englishwoman slipping into the African land-
scape as easily as a ray of light between the sparse canopy of
an acacia tree. Clad in a khaki shirt and shorts, she could have
been Eve exiled from the Garden of Eden, aware but uncaring
of venomous snakes that slithered around her, the bitter taste
of forbidden fruit, all but forgotten. Doing what she was meant
to do, Jane believed nothing could harm her (as she often said)
and nothing did as she moved through grasslands, woodlands,
steep valleys, and rocky slopes, crossing streams and climbing
trees while trying to find the chimps. Instead, she saw brightly-
colored birds and butterflies, bushbucks and other wildlife as
she searched, month after month with no chimpanzees in sight.
But finally, her patience was repaid by a male dubbed David
Greybeard. And after him there were others, Goliath, Flo, and
Fifi, defying scientists who claimed chimps were incapable of
empathy, happiness, or grief, labeled them by numbers instead
of names. But let’s not travel just yet, to what Jane would learn
and what good she would do in the future, this kind and gentle
woman, as brave as anyone ever born. You have only to see her
lovely face on film as David, rather than running away, ignores
her presence while eating figs—to know this moment was the
apex of her young life, a dream that began with a toy monkey
her father gave her instead of a bear. For now, I’d rather think
of Jane Goodall sitting still as a hill or a stone while watching
the chimps—her expression of joy and wonder akin to Eve’s
if she’d been welcomed back to Paradise and at last, forgiven.
Terri Kirby Erickson is the author of seven full-length collections of poetry, including Night Talks: New & Selected Poems (Press 53), which was a finalist for (general) poetry in the International Book Awards and the Best Book Awards. Her work has appeared in a wide variety of literary journals, anthologies, magazines, and newspapers, including “American Life in Poetry,” Asheville Poetry Review, Atlanta Review, JAMA, ONE ART, Poetry Foundation, Rattle, The SUN, The Writer’s Almanac, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Verse Daily, and many more. Among her numerous awards are the Joy Harjo Poetry Prize, Nautilus Silver Book Award, Tennessee Williams Poetry Prize, and the Annals of Internal Medicine Poetry Prize. She lives in North Carolina.
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| Image source: DonkeyHotey |
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| After claiming that a man would meet his masturbating hand “pregnant in the afterlife” and “asking for its rights,” a Muslim televangelist has set Turkish social media aflame. Self-styled televangelist Mücahid Cihad Han . . . claimed that Islam strictly prohibits masturbation as a “haram” (forbidden) act. “Moreover, one hadith states that those who have sexual intercourse with their hands will find their hands pregnant in the afterlife, complaining against them to God over its rights,” he said, referring to what he claimed to be a saying of Prophet Muhammad. . . . “Istimna,” the Arabic term for masturbation that Han also referred to, is a controversial issue in Islam, as there have been varying opinions on its permissibility throughout history. The Quran has no clear reference to masturbation and the authenticity of many hadiths is questionable. —Hurriyet Daily News (Turkey), May 25, 2015. Image source: MemeCenter |
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| The life-size marble statue of Adam, carved by Tullio Lombardo (Italian, ca. 1455–1532), is among the most important works of art from Renaissance Venice to be found outside that city today. In 2002, Adam was gravely damaged in an accident. Committed to returning it to public view, the Museum undertook a conservation treatment that has restored the sculpture to its original appearance to the fullest extent possible. --The Metropolitan Museum of Art |
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| Image source: Cone10 Studios |