Matthew Spinozza
English 103
Dr. Doris Umbers
19 April 2025
Matt Spinozza's Final Meditation
Connection / Thesis
We live in a world that’s both collapsing and adapting. Things fall apart, and yet, somehow, we move forward. Art and nonfiction both try to make sense of this... from poetic metaphors to stark, real images. Ruth Stone’s poem “Rising” and the New York Times photo essay on the L.A. fires seem completely different at first glance. One uses symbolism and rhythm, while the other delivers raw, photographic reality. However, both speak to the quiet devastation of living through disaster. They whisper the same truth in different languages that survival is often slow, painful, and deeply human. Through them, along with the help of Mohamad Hafez's Desperate Cargo sculpture, a climate-focused segment from Lemmino’s YouTube documentary, and a meticulously hand-curated playlist of songs- this meditation explores how collapse feels, looks, and sounds across a wide variety of genres. Grab a blanket, some tea, and maybe your dog. Hit the “Rain” toggle button on the top of the page and relax as we explore how various different forms of expression can feel different, but still convey the same message.
“Rising” by Ruth Stone
It is the time of year
when everything is thin and brittle.
The windowpanes rattle in their casements.
The grass is worn to the root.
Trees cast their leaves, dark and wrinkled.
At dawn the cold air sits on my chest
like a small, wet animal.
I lie still, breathing it in.
There is no word for this, for that feeling
of getting through just by holding still.
New York Times Photo Essay Reference
You can view the full original photo essay here.
The Quiet Language of Collapse
Stone’s “Rising” doesn’t start with flames or floods. It starts with stillness. A room. A cold chest. Brittle things. There’s no catastrophe here, just subtle erosion. Yet in that quiet, there’s a kind of scream. The speaker lies still, letting the cold settle on them, describing a moment that feels heavy but impossible to name: “There is no word for this.” That line says everything. It's the emotional paralysis we feel when something bad is coming but hasn’t quite arrived yet.
That’s exactly what the New York Times photo essay on the L.A. fires captures. It's not the moment of burning, but the moment after. The aftermath. Burned rooms. Melted objects. Captions like “this was the market” say so little, and yet so much. There’s no big explanation. Just facts. Just absence. Where Stone’s poem holds emotion in metaphors, the photo essay holds it in silence. It’s not flashy, but the stillness forces us to look longer and feel deeper.Speaking Volumes Without Words
The New York Times photo essay focuses on people displaced by rising sea levels and wild weather. It’s not fictional or symbolic; it’s real. These are human beings who lost their homes, who live with the literal consequences of climate change. The essay doesn’t shout. It shows. It lets images speak for themselves. Where Stone is metaphorical, this essay is brutally and unapologetically direct. Yet, both say the same thing... we are rising into danger, and we’re not ready.
Art, as Warning and Witness
Desperate Cargo, created by Syrian-American artist Mohamad Hafez, is a sculpture that shows a battered life raft filled not with people, but with the wreckage of a miniature city. Crumbling buildings crowd the interior, capturing the emotional weight of displacement. The piece speaks to the refugee experience— not just the journey, but the memory of everything left behind. By placing an entire ruined city into a survival vessel, Hafez forces us to confront what it really means to flee: you don’t just carry your belongings, you carry your home, your history, your loss. In the context of this meditation, Desperate Cargo bridges the poetic despair of Ruth Stone and the visual urgency of the New York Times photo essay. It turns the abstract into something you can almost touch— and something that touches back.
How the Language Shifts
Stone uses lullaby rhythms and soft textures: “thin,” “worn,” “dark,” “cold.” Her poem barely raises its voice, but, ironically, that’s what makes it powerful. It mirrors how most of us live through disaster- not screaming, but breathing quietly and trying to hold it together. The poem is minimal on purpose. She doesn’t want to explain it all. She just wants you to feel the weight without giving you a map to navigate the feelings it extracts.
The NYT photo essay follows the same restraint. The readers main takeaway from the photo essays language is likely to be how it says so much with so few words. What it does say is blunt: “This was the kitchen.” “These were her mother’s earrings.” It’s like the captions are in denial too— naming what’s gone instead of what’s happening. The language isn’t poetic, but it still hurts. This same style can be seen in Lemmino’s narration in the following YouTube clip. While Lemmino uses enough words to get the message across scientifically, he also somehow manages to stay quiet in a way. There's no sensationalism. Just steady, inevitable facts, delivered in a tone that somehow makes it worse. The language might change across genres, but the feeling doesn't.
Lemmino's Science-based Breakdown
If Desperate Cargo is emotional metaphor, this Lemmino segment from "Consumed by the Apocalypse" is like the cold reality behind it all. The 3-minute stretch I focused on (21:30–24:45) is pure information: graphs, timelines, and a calm narration explaining how humanity is drifting toward irreversible damage. But even though it’s just numbers and graphs, it still hits like poetry because we already know what it means. I actually got chills when he said "Humanity is now depleting 3 quarters as many resources as the earth can naturally replenish- meaning we will soon need a second earth...just to break even." Watching this segment after reading Rising and scrolling through the NYT photos feels like a confirmation. It doesn’t say, “You should be afraid.” It says, “This is already happening.” It doesn't panic, sensationalize, or sugarcoat it...it simply lays out the cold hard facts, for better or for worse.
Conclusion
What does collapse sound like? What does it feel like when you realize the storm has already passed and you're still here? “Rising” and the NYT essay give us emotional snapshots of that answer. One through metaphor, the other through aftermath. Desperate Cargo gives us the physical weight. Lemmino gives us the evidence. The playlist gives us the arc. Different genres, authors, artists, and creators all giving us the same warning. The same quiet, unspoken fear that maybe it’s too late. But by stringing these pieces together and letting them speak in their own unique ways, maybe we can learn how to listen better. Maybe we feel something new and inspire real change.
That’s what this meditation became for me: Not just a collage, but a conversation.
BONUS: Additional Material #3: Meditation Playlist - Soundtrack of the Slow Burn
Listen to the full playlist on Spotify, Apple Music, or YouTube below!
After absorbing the images, the poetry, and the data, I needed a way to express the emotional arc of this meditation in my all-time favorite medium, music. That’s where the playlist comes in. It’s twelve tracks that move from resignation to numbness. These aren’t just background songs. They’re emotional checkpoints. For example, “Everybody Knows” by Sigrid opens with quiet frustration: “Everybody knows the good guys lost.” That line feels like it could’ve been carved under the sculpture or stamped onto the last NYT photo. “Paint It Black” by the Rolling Stones takes us deeper into despair — “It’s not easy facing up when your whole world is black.” As the playlist unfolds, we hit “Hurt” (Johnny Cash), “Redemption Day” (Johnny Cash again, obviously), and “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd and many more songs that show how grief can evolve into detachment. I placed this playlist on the site with embedded audio and lyrics so readers can experience the feeling of collapse as it slowly spreads. Each track is like another paragraph, just written in a different language. You can view my breakdowns of each song and how they fit the theme below.
View Playlist Breakdown
1. Everybody Knows – Sigrid
This cover of Leonard Cohen’s song blends sorrow and fury. It kicks off the playlist with resignation — like the world already knows the truth but chooses to look away. It starts softly and then grows increasingly more confrontational. It's worth mentioning that this song was made for The Justice League, and was used to show the fallout from Superman's death.
" Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost "
"
2. Time in a Bottle – Jim Croce
A haunting desire to undo the past and freeze fleeting moments. This song brings a soft ache — the wish to pause time before everything falls apart.
" If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure, and then
Again, I would spend them with you "
3. Paint It Black – The Rolling Stones
A descent into darkness. The world turns black, metaphorically and emotionally, as the first signs of irreversible collapse settle in.
" Maybe then I’ll fade away
And not have to face the facts
It’s not easy facing up
When your whole world is black "
4. Hurt – Johnny Cash
A weary reflection of damage done — both self-inflicted and otherwise. Cash’s voice turns Trent Reznor’s original into a farewell letter to a crumbling world.
" What have i become
My sweetest friend
Everyone i know goes away
In the end "
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt "
5. Down in a Hole – Alice in Chains
This one’s about emotional burial. It speaks to being stuck deep underground — metaphorically or literally — and knowing you helped dig the hole.
" Down in a hole, feelin’ so small
Down in a hole, out of control
I’d like to fly
But my wings have been so denied "
6. No Surprises – Radiohead
Numbness disguised as peace. This track masks despair in a soft melody, echoing the way people disconnect from reality as it gets too heavy.
" I’ll take a quiet life
A handshake of carbon monoxide
No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises "
7. Long Nights – Eddie Vedder
Written for Into the Wild, this song captures the loneliness of someone who stepped away from society. It's tough to make a connection to this meditation, but the somber tone fits right in with the rest of the project.
" Have no fear
For when I’m alone
I’ll be better off
Than I was before "
8. Redemption Day – Johnny Cash
This is the voice of reckoning. The “Man in Black” asks the biggest questions with the fewest words — about greed, guilt, and whether we can ever make things right.
" Oh, why we waited till so late
Was there no oil to excavate?
No riches in trade for the fate
Of every person who died in hate
Throw us a bone, you men of great
There is a train that's heading straight
To heaven’s gate, to heaven’s gate
And on the way, child and man
And woman wait - watch and wait
For redemtion day "
9. Something in the Way – Nirvana
There’s nothing left. Just desolation. Kurt Cobain paints a picture of life in the wreckage — surviving, but only just...
" Underneath the bridge
Tarp has sprung a leak
And the animals I’ve trapped
Have all become my pets "
10. Look On Down From the Bridge – Mazzy Star
A funeral without a name. This song feels like standing above the ruins of the world, staring down in quiet sadness.
" Look on down from the bridge
There’s still fountains down there
Look on down from the bridge
It’s still raining up here "
11. Goodbye Blue Sky – Pink Floyd
This is the moment we admit what’s been lost. It doesn’t scream or cry — it whispers. And sometimes, that’s even heavier.
" The flames are all long gone
But the pain lingers on
Goodbye blue sky
Goodbye blue sky "
12. Comfortably Numb – Pink Floyd
The final track doesn’t fight anymore. There’s no panic, no rage — just detachment. Acceptance has arrived, and it’s silent.
" When I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look, but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown, the dream is gone
I have become comfortably numb "