Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Special Entry #2
The State of Your Heart
The little girl in the poem State of the Planet
by Robert Hass symbolizes humanity’s “hunger”
and wonder for knowledge as shallowly translating
to image and wealth.
He starts the poem by describing
a young girl standing outside in the rain. She has a backpack
with a science book inside. “[She is] One of the six billion
of her hungry and curious kind.”(End of Line #1) He
goes on to say that the book is “dog-eared an full of
illustrations.” Seems like Robert is almost placing a
negative connotation on the book, or making the book
seem childish by comparing it with a children’s picture
book. “She’s one of those who’s only hungry
metaphorically.” (End Line #2)
We portray or “tell ourselves”
we want to learn and understand our planet, but in
fact while being in that pursuit we do not take the
appropriate and necessary steps to care for it. Making
our hunger out to be all in vain. He says the girl is only
hungry in the metaphorical comparison he makes, she is
not hungry for learning in un-metaphorical or
the natural way to hunger for learning or wonder.
He describes the book as “try[ing] to give the child
wonder.”(Top Line#4) Seems like he is saying we try to
find wonder, not for the pure fact of enjoying nature
and being inspired to love it and want it to always exist,
but for the drama. ‘ “all nature teams with life-”
Something of the earth beyond our human drama.’
He then so magnificently describes some of the beauties
of the planet. The deep tones of a volcano erupting,
Mexican country landscape, bright colored birds in a
tree finding food. “Some insect-eating bird with wing
feathers the color of a morning sky perched on the limb
of the tree. That blue, that green”(Top Middle Line #4)
He goes on to say that even the beautiful bird’s cannot
grasp the full weight of earth’s wonder and not only
their own beauty but their place in it. “Alertness of the
bird that can’t know the amazement of its being there,
a human that somewhat does,”(End Middle Line#4)
As soon as our eyes taste wonder or gain knowledge
our carnal nature starts planning ways to bottle it
up, package it in, and reconstruct it for marketing.
“It must be a gift that humans can’t sustain wonder.
We’d never have gotten up off our knees if we could.
But soon enough we’d have fashioned sexy little earrings
from the feathers, highlighted our cheekbones by the
rubbing from the rock, and made a spear from the sinewy
wood of the trees.” (Top Last Line #4) I believe he is talking
about the ever popular quote. “With great power, comes
great responsibility.” We have the power part down.
We are experts at gaining power, both physical and
mechanical. I think that is what he means when he
says “gotten up off our knees.” We saw a glimpse
of what the world could be like when we captured
the amazing wonder nature brings. We try to replicate
it. Then we went from women cleaning or scrubbing
the floor and men working the fields all on their knees
to driving around in air conditioned tractors and self-
cleaning shower kits.
It is the responsibility part that we forget about.
We have made our lives easier by inventing things to
save time and money. But where are the fruits of this?
If inventions were functioning in that manner we would have
enough time to all clean up the earth.
We pursue “knowledge” when we actually hunger
the underlying vanity. Wisdom brings fame and
fortune. Interviews, pictures, parties, grants, loans,
financial backing, and all in vain. Robert calls out the
icons of gods, knowledge, poetry, and painting.
Speaking to Epictetus he tells him that he was right in his
pursuit, but the ending turned out wrong. “Where
oxygen breeds it from ultra-violent light, it burns
a hole in the atmosphere.”(Bottom Line#8) I think it is
Robert’s way of pointing his finger in the “minds of
the times” faces and saying, yes figured out how
cells worked and you sold and copyrighted it, and
now look what it gets us. You create things that kill
the earth. He continues by saying, “They drained the
marshes of Rome. Your people, you know,
the ones who taught the world to love the vast fields
of grain, the power and the order of the green” “Your poets,
those in the generation after you, were the ones who praised
the packed seed heads” Robert says that “In the years since,
we’ve gotten even better at relentless simplification, but
its taken until out time for it to crowd out, savagely, the
rest of life”(Middle Line#9) He recognizes the vanity
in this. “And all one thing: there’s no life in it at all.”
(Bottom Line#9)He must view this idea of mistreating
the earth like a tragedy because he compares it subtly
with seducing and stealing the honor of a woman.
This interpretation gives us twofold meaning
for why the author paints such a beautiful
picture of the scenery of earth. It is likened to a
beautiful women dancing. “the women coming
towards you, is the appetite for life; the one who
seems to turn away is chaste restraint” “The dance
resembles wheeling constellastions”
“What is to be done with our species?”
(Top Line#10)
It is our planet. The author of this poem bids
us to come deeper, to fly higher, to want more out
of life, and not for just the planet’s sake, but for
our own as well. “Because the world needs a dream
of restoration- ”(Bottom Line#10)
I have come to understand that
he wants us to love our planet and not just pretend to.
“No use to rail against our curiosity
and greed”(Middle Line#9)
The little girl in the poem State of the Planet
by Robert Hass symbolizes humanity’s “hunger”
and wonder for knowledge as shallowly translating
to image and wealth.
He starts the poem by describing
a young girl standing outside in the rain. She has a backpack
with a science book inside. “[She is] One of the six billion
of her hungry and curious kind.”(End of Line #1) He
goes on to say that the book is “dog-eared an full of
illustrations.” Seems like Robert is almost placing a
negative connotation on the book, or making the book
seem childish by comparing it with a children’s picture
book. “She’s one of those who’s only hungry
metaphorically.” (End Line #2)
We portray or “tell ourselves”
we want to learn and understand our planet, but in
fact while being in that pursuit we do not take the
appropriate and necessary steps to care for it. Making
our hunger out to be all in vain. He says the girl is only
hungry in the metaphorical comparison he makes, she is
not hungry for learning in un-metaphorical or
the natural way to hunger for learning or wonder.
He describes the book as “try[ing] to give the child
wonder.”(Top Line#4) Seems like he is saying we try to
find wonder, not for the pure fact of enjoying nature
and being inspired to love it and want it to always exist,
but for the drama. ‘ “all nature teams with life-”
Something of the earth beyond our human drama.’
He then so magnificently describes some of the beauties
of the planet. The deep tones of a volcano erupting,
Mexican country landscape, bright colored birds in a
tree finding food. “Some insect-eating bird with wing
feathers the color of a morning sky perched on the limb
of the tree. That blue, that green”(Top Middle Line #4)
He goes on to say that even the beautiful bird’s cannot
grasp the full weight of earth’s wonder and not only
their own beauty but their place in it. “Alertness of the
bird that can’t know the amazement of its being there,
a human that somewhat does,”(End Middle Line#4)
As soon as our eyes taste wonder or gain knowledge
our carnal nature starts planning ways to bottle it
up, package it in, and reconstruct it for marketing.
“It must be a gift that humans can’t sustain wonder.
We’d never have gotten up off our knees if we could.
But soon enough we’d have fashioned sexy little earrings
from the feathers, highlighted our cheekbones by the
rubbing from the rock, and made a spear from the sinewy
wood of the trees.” (Top Last Line #4) I believe he is talking
about the ever popular quote. “With great power, comes
great responsibility.” We have the power part down.
We are experts at gaining power, both physical and
mechanical. I think that is what he means when he
says “gotten up off our knees.” We saw a glimpse
of what the world could be like when we captured
the amazing wonder nature brings. We try to replicate
it. Then we went from women cleaning or scrubbing
the floor and men working the fields all on their knees
to driving around in air conditioned tractors and self-
cleaning shower kits.
It is the responsibility part that we forget about.
We have made our lives easier by inventing things to
save time and money. But where are the fruits of this?
If inventions were functioning in that manner we would have
enough time to all clean up the earth.
We pursue “knowledge” when we actually hunger
the underlying vanity. Wisdom brings fame and
fortune. Interviews, pictures, parties, grants, loans,
financial backing, and all in vain. Robert calls out the
icons of gods, knowledge, poetry, and painting.
Speaking to Epictetus he tells him that he was right in his
pursuit, but the ending turned out wrong. “Where
oxygen breeds it from ultra-violent light, it burns
a hole in the atmosphere.”(Bottom Line#8) I think it is
Robert’s way of pointing his finger in the “minds of
the times” faces and saying, yes figured out how
cells worked and you sold and copyrighted it, and
now look what it gets us. You create things that kill
the earth. He continues by saying, “They drained the
marshes of Rome. Your people, you know,
the ones who taught the world to love the vast fields
of grain, the power and the order of the green” “Your poets,
those in the generation after you, were the ones who praised
the packed seed heads” Robert says that “In the years since,
we’ve gotten even better at relentless simplification, but
its taken until out time for it to crowd out, savagely, the
rest of life”(Middle Line#9) He recognizes the vanity
in this. “And all one thing: there’s no life in it at all.”
(Bottom Line#9)He must view this idea of mistreating
the earth like a tragedy because he compares it subtly
with seducing and stealing the honor of a woman.
This interpretation gives us twofold meaning
for why the author paints such a beautiful
picture of the scenery of earth. It is likened to a
beautiful women dancing. “the women coming
towards you, is the appetite for life; the one who
seems to turn away is chaste restraint” “The dance
resembles wheeling constellastions”
“What is to be done with our species?”
(Top Line#10)
It is our planet. The author of this poem bids
us to come deeper, to fly higher, to want more out
of life, and not for just the planet’s sake, but for
our own as well. “Because the world needs a dream
of restoration- ”(Bottom Line#10)
I have come to understand that
he wants us to love our planet and not just pretend to.
“No use to rail against our curiosity
and greed”(Middle Line#9)
Monday, November 30, 2009
The Layers of Symbolism
The best way for me to assimilate symbolism
with text and literature is to go back to high school.
Right before the movie came out for Narina:
The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, our entire
school read the accompanying book. I went to a
small private Christian school, which taught K5
to high school graduates. They kept about one
hundred students at a time. So K5 to high school
were either read to or required to read the book.
We were required to be exposed to a chapter or two
a week until finally all the classes were done and
it was game day. Yes. We had Narnia day. The
entire day was filled with games and activities all
focused around the book and the upcoming movie.
Then shortly after Narnia day we, as a whole school
together, went and saw Narnia in theatres.
This all seems fine except for one part. Narnia
is a story about an evil witch. We had an entire year
celebrating a witch book and movie, from the same school
that banned any Harry Potter paraphernalia at all. Harry
Potter were books and movies with story lines including
witches. Why was Narnia any different?
Our headmaster when on to explain a little lesson
called symbolism. We explained that Narnia was the classic
story of “good vs. evil”, with good prevailing. And that it
was not a story about “teaching witchcraft”, but defeating it
This, to me, is a form of symbolism. If you were
simply reading the text you would not read about God verses
the devil, but yet a young band of siblings and mythical creatures
fighting an evil ice witch. When you read about Aslan giving his
life so that Peter can live, you are not reading about Jesus
giving his life for mankind, these are symbols.
We come about to symbols by becoming abstract from
the text itself. For instance in the poem we read in class about
the onion, one of my partners said to me, “This poem has to
have more to it. Why would it get so serious? It has to be about
more than a simple onion.” That was a very good statement. It
was true. You arrive at symbols when you go past the natural,
and step in to the figurative, or the unconcrete.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Faithfulness
It is amazing how powerful literature has shown itself to be to
me this semester. It reminds me of when I was buying a car.
When you are in the “car buying mood” you notice cars more
than on a regular occasion. It is this same way with Literature.
I was touched this morning in chapel when they sang a song I
have never heard before. Yes, there is literature even in music and song,
and/ or music can spark your memory about a piece of literature.
I was meditating this morning when I was touched by the words in this song called
You Are Faithful by Jesus Culture. I posted the song on the blog so you could
experience this song for yourself. The song said this:
My hearts aches for you my God
My soul waits for you my God
I’ve come far to find you here
In this place will I draw near
And your spirit soars with me
To the highest heights
From where I’ll not look back
I’ll keep trusting you
For I know You are faithful My God
I was instantly reminded of the play that we have been reading in class
called Waiting For Godot and the silly inconsistencies that
the story consists of. When I read the play I was thinking how easy it is
for our lives to become filled with repetition and apathy.
We over-schedule, over work, under-sleep, and develop less
than healthy habits. Although when you get into a suitable schedule
how could not become a part of it? We work our entire lives in schools to
get to a place to work for the rest of our lives. This blog may seem like
negative but there is hope. He is hope. Writing this blog I can feel my spirit
getting excited; even my eyes are wanting to water at how great he is.
The song just reassured that no matter how I feel or what I do that my
God will always be faithful to me, especially in a completely
unstable and unfaithful world. He does not use useless repetitions
or toil about with inconsistencies or even fill your heart with false hope.
He is faithful. He is true. He is everything I could need.
I will leave you with this:
(This is also a sing they played this morning)
“Jesus you are all I need, you are more than enough for me”.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Repetition For Emphasis
Waiting For Godot, written by Samuel Bekett, has been a tougher read for me personally. Although, I should not say it has been a tougher read, per say, but tougher to grasp. Maybe I am just not quite trained enough on interpreting scripts. This is my analysis of Waiting For Godot. The book itself seems as if to be filled with many repeated phrases. For instance. the continual taking on and off of Estragon’s boots. Also the same phrases are repeated like, “like the leaves” and “circus”.
This story reminds me of a phrase my friends made up in middle school called “repetition for emphasis”. In the beginning of the story Vladimir is talking about the different accounts of the story of Jesus’ death and the two thieves beside him. He goes to explain his own question. Why are the stories different? There is an obvious allusion between the repetitiveness of the gospels and this play, as if by repeating the ideas will somehow make them more concrete. Lucky also mentions this when he says his consecutive pipes taste less “sweet” than the first.
There is also the underlying theme of stagnicity. The entire play Vladimir and Estragon talk about “leaving”, but they never do. Each following scene or curtain they remain in the same spot, talking about the same things, asking the same questions, and wanting to leave the same way. There is almost a sense of never leaving that spot, especially with such heavy emphasis on repetition. Maybe even a slight fear of change. These themes seem very weighty, if I may, when considering such a short play. It makes me want to examine my own life and contemplate my own inconsistencies and repetitions. Also it makes me want to root out the causes. Are my fears stemming from a resentment to change? Have I become apathetic to potentials that my life brings? But mainly I am faced with this question. Are my own repetitions for emphasis causing my traits to dull in the balance?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Lake Bonny Park
This is proof I went to Bonny Park Mr. Corrigan
I call it a photography literature blog ;)
Inspiration*
What inspiration nature brings.
And yet what silence and meditation
it demands. Being in nature today helped
me catch a tiny glimpse of God’s mighty
power and His amazingly creative hand.
Being in nature just makes me want to
write and create literature, in all the ways.
It makes me want to observe a plant and write
down the feel of the petals, and the origin or genus,
and the inner workings of the stem and photosynthesis.
Nature can be such a good starting point for literature.
It could be something as simple as the setting of nature
you are sitting around. For example, if you are sitting
inside on a rainy day you may be more inclined to write
about the mood of the rain. Or you may be lead to write
about the sound or smell of rain. If you are outside on a
beautiful sunny day you may write something more
optimistic or “happy”.
Also, everything originates in nature
so what better place to start for inspiration? For instance,
if you saw a tomato growing outside you may be
reminded of tomato soup and the warmth of your mother
making it for you when you were little at thanksgiving time.
Although nature could also be an intimidating place
to start with literature. You could be overwhelmed by
all the possibilities that come to mind when pondering on,
and considering nature.
Being in nature helps me realize the importance
of natural literature, in a sense. Nature is so beautifully made
but it manages to be simple and yet complicated and complex
at the same time. That is the kind of literature I enjoy. Easy
and simple, but not in an immature or simple-minded way, the
beautiful literature that comes naturally to you. The kind
of literature you can meditate on and sit still with. The literature
that you can become so overwhelmed with yet still feel comfortable
around. I love Literature that makes you feel complete in your
own vulnerability.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Nature
"Cowbird"
Crisp white you stand
Perfectly still
Marbled
Watching and waiting
Listening
You prowl
I watch
I wait
I listen
A calf cries nearby
The dancing of the trees
The whispering of the wind in my ear
Vulnerablility
The key to enjoying
Anything
Suddenly you move
A flash
Immediately back to position
Except for one swallow
I admire the discipline
Being in nature, to me, is such a
wonderful experience. I have enjoyed this
assignment better than any other. I was raised
in the country setting. A small south central
town in Florida. The last I heard our town human
to cow ratio was three cows to every one person.
I spent two hours outside in my nanny and poppy’s
pasture. They have about forty or fifty cows on
ninety acres of a heavily treed grass land.
My poppy (my grandpa) just harvested another
piece of property and he has a good sized
collection of hay bails now. I sat for
two hours in nature between two hay bails and
read poetry. It was one of the greatest experiences
I have ever had. I never realized how much I missed
being outside in the nature of my hometown
until I moved away to college. But the best part of
the experience was because I paired my love of nature
with reading poetry, something else I also leave.
“Of course I have always known you
are present in the clouds, and the
black oak I especially adore and the
wings of birds. But you are present
too in the body, listening to the body,
teaching it to live, instead of all
that touching, with disembodied joy.”
(Six Recognitions of the Lord, Mary Oliver, Line 4)
This line was most evident in my experience
or natural literature. I think Mary has a very valid point.
I think that what she could have been talking about
here was the fact that God is everywhere in everything,
working on our behalf. He could be ministering to your
emotional health by therapeutically causing a bird to
sing a beautiful song next to you. I think he especially
works in nature. Although the earth and all its beauty is
but a mere finger painting to what beauty God can create.
Look at the beauty of the universe. God ministers through
His whole body. His church body ministers and so does His
actual body, the Holy Spirit. Mary Encountered this and so did I.
God can minister in more ways than just feeling also. He
can move with sights, sounds, and any other avenue He chooses.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Faith
State of the Planet
by Robert Hass
Line 1
October on the planet at the century’s end.
Rain lashing the windshield. Through blurred glass
Gusts of a Pacific storm rocking a huge, shank-needled
Himalayan cedar. Under it a Japanese plum
Throws off a vertical cascade of leaves the color
Of skinned copper, if copper could be skinned.
And under it, her gait as elegant and supple
As the young of any of earth’s species, a schoolgirl
Negotiates a crosswalk in the wind, her hair flying.
The red satchel on her quite straight back darkening
Splotch by smoky crimson splotch as the rain pelts it.
One of the six billion of her hungry and curious kind.
Inside the backpack, dog-eared, full of illustrations,
A book with a title like Getting to Know Your Planet.
The book will tell her that the earth this month
Has yawed a little distance from the sun,
And that the air, cooling, has begun to move,
As sensitive to temperature as skin is
To a lover’s touch. It will also tell her that the air –
It’s likely to say “the troposphere” has trapped
Emissions from millions of cars, idling like mine
As she crosses, and is making a greenhouse
Of the atmosphere. The book will say that climate
Is complicated, that we may be doing this,
And if we are, it may explain that this
Was something we’ve done quite accidentally,
Which she can understand, not having meant
That morning to have spilled the milk. She’s
One of those who’s only hungry metaphorically
Line 7
The people who live in Tena, on the Napo River,
Say that the black, viscid stuff the pools in the selva
Is the blood of the rainbow boa curled in the earth’s core.
The great trees in that forest house ten thousands of kinds
Of beetle, reptiles no human eyes has ever seen changing
Color on the hot, green, hardly changing leaves
Whenever a faint breeze stirs them. In the understory
Bromeliads and orchids whose flecked petals and womb-
Or mouth-like flowers are the shapes of desire
In human dreams. And butterflies, larger than her palm
Held up to catch a ball or ward off fear. Along the river
Wide-leaved banyans where flocks of raucous parrots,
Fruit-eaters and seed-eaters, rise in startled flares
Of red and yellow and bright green. It will seem to be poetry
Forgetting its promise of sobriety to say the rosy shinings
In the thick brown current are small dolphins rising
To the surface where gouts of the oil that burns inside
The engine of the car I’m driving oozes from the banks.
I suggest anyone who loves poetry, whether they prefer
the nature genre or not, should read this poem. The depictions
and the places that Robert takes you are phenomenal.
My favorite line of the poem that actually sparked
the topic of my blog tonight goes as follows:
Line 10
What is go be done with our species? Because
We know we're going to die, to be submitted
To that tingling dance of atoms once again,
It's easy for us to feel that our lives are a dream-
As this is, in away, a dream: the flailing rain,
The birds the soaked red backpack of the child,
Her tendrils of wet hair, the windshield wipers,
This voice trying to to speak across centuries
Between us, even the long story of earth,
Boreal forests, mangrove swamps, Tiberian wheatfields
In the summer heat on hillsides south of Rome - all of it A dream, and we alive somewhere, somehow outside it, Watching.....
In thinking about this poem and the imagery he portrays I
thought about a lot of things. I considered how blessed I was to be
raised in the country. I grew up understanding and enjoying nature.
This poem meant so much to me being as I would love to go all the
places discussed int he poem and see them for my own eyes. Then I
was brought to my next thought. Robert is talking about all of these
places as if they were a dream, and in a small way he is right.
How do we really know these places exist? (Other than the fact we now
have sofisticated technology) If we lay technology aside, many of us
never actually seen these places with or own eyes, therefore how do
we know they really exist? To us they are like a dream because we
have essentially never actually captured their image in real life.
This makes the poem seem more like experiencing a dream.
Sure technology says thee places are there, but have you seen them?
Have I? This idea makes the poem seem more enjoyable for me.
The fact that it takes me to a place I have never been, but also I do not
know COMPLETELY concrete that is exists. This also
sparked a new thought. I have faith. Being a christian, I have faith
in God. He is something I have not concretely seen, but that makes
him all more real. "Blessed are those who believe and have not seen,"
is what Jesus said to Thomas.
"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not seen. "
I think this is completely relevant to poetry
analyzing and experiencing. I think that poetry requires a certain
amount of faith, in this sense. We can never really know concretely
what a poet/poem is trying to say. In that way we dream an idea and
then we formulate a belief. We set our faith towards the belief that
our assumption about the poem is correct. Although, fortunately
for us poetry is open. We can take anything from it we choose.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Reflection
http://www.diomass.org/multimedia/audio/Mary_Oliver_reads_Six_Recognitions
This is a link to a reading of the poem that I discuss in this blog:
Six Recognitions of the Lord by Mary Oliver
“Lord God, mercy in your hands, pour ma a little. And tenderness too. My need is great. Beauty walks so freely and with such gentleness. Impatience puts a halter on my face and I run away over the green fields wanting your voice, your tenderness, but having to do with only the sweet grasses of the fields against my body. When I first found you I was filled with light, now darkness grows and it is filled with crooked things, bitter and weak, each one bearing my name.”
(Line 2 of Six Recognitions of the Lord)
One thing I have recently decided about Literature is that is has many functions. In accordance with scripture it can heal or direct your spirit. Secular literature can teach and guide. It can humor you or excite you. It can culture you. It can take you places you have never been around the world. You can revisit history and meet people long before your own time. In my own life it has been revealed to me that literature can serve as a mirror. A mirror in the sense that by reading a poem, this poem and line in fact, you can experience yourself. When I was reading this poem I saw a glimpse of myself in the words; a part of myself that I have deliberately dealt with very briefly. Now that I have come to college, the light is being shown on it brighter than ever. I struggle with depression. I always have. I have become an expert at covering it up. My life has consisted of busying myself in order to distract myself and others from this fact. It makes me feel weak to admit it, and that thought is wrong I realize. I have never told anyone this until recently. I have never really fully believed it myself until lately. The poem says, “Impatience puts a halter on my face…” My dad has always got on to me for not “practicing patience". It was a very hard lesson for me to learn. “When I first found you I was filled with light, now darkness grows and it is filled with crooked things, bitter and weak, each one bearing my name.” I have never realized how powerful the experience of Literature can be until it helped unveil something in my own life. Had I never read this poem, maybe I would not have ever been confronted with depression in such a personal manner. It is easy for someone to tell you how you are, but it is another for you to say it to yourself. I suppose the first step to dealing with any sort of problem is confronting it.
This is a link to a reading of the poem that I discuss in this blog:
Six Recognitions of the Lord by Mary Oliver
“Lord God, mercy in your hands, pour ma a little. And tenderness too. My need is great. Beauty walks so freely and with such gentleness. Impatience puts a halter on my face and I run away over the green fields wanting your voice, your tenderness, but having to do with only the sweet grasses of the fields against my body. When I first found you I was filled with light, now darkness grows and it is filled with crooked things, bitter and weak, each one bearing my name.”
(Line 2 of Six Recognitions of the Lord)
One thing I have recently decided about Literature is that is has many functions. In accordance with scripture it can heal or direct your spirit. Secular literature can teach and guide. It can humor you or excite you. It can culture you. It can take you places you have never been around the world. You can revisit history and meet people long before your own time. In my own life it has been revealed to me that literature can serve as a mirror. A mirror in the sense that by reading a poem, this poem and line in fact, you can experience yourself. When I was reading this poem I saw a glimpse of myself in the words; a part of myself that I have deliberately dealt with very briefly. Now that I have come to college, the light is being shown on it brighter than ever. I struggle with depression. I always have. I have become an expert at covering it up. My life has consisted of busying myself in order to distract myself and others from this fact. It makes me feel weak to admit it, and that thought is wrong I realize. I have never told anyone this until recently. I have never really fully believed it myself until lately. The poem says, “Impatience puts a halter on my face…” My dad has always got on to me for not “practicing patience". It was a very hard lesson for me to learn. “When I first found you I was filled with light, now darkness grows and it is filled with crooked things, bitter and weak, each one bearing my name.” I have never realized how powerful the experience of Literature can be until it helped unveil something in my own life. Had I never read this poem, maybe I would not have ever been confronted with depression in such a personal manner. It is easy for someone to tell you how you are, but it is another for you to say it to yourself. I suppose the first step to dealing with any sort of problem is confronting it.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
En Robe De Parade
By: Ezra Pound
En robe de parade.
-Samain ("Dressed for show")
Like a skien of loose silk blown against a wall
She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens,
And she is dying piece-meal
of a sort of emotional anaemia.
And round about there is a rabble
Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor.
They shall inherit the earth.
In her is the end of breeding.
Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.
She would like some one to speak to her,
And is almost afraid that I
will commit that indiscretion.
In analyzing this poem I have painted a certain image in my head:
I see a beautiful girl walking through the royal gardens.
"Kensington Gardens"
"Like a loose silk blown against a wall
She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens"
I picture a younger girl as that is what identifies in my mind when
I think of silk.She is either very high class or of royal or noble
descent. judging from the fact sheis walking in a private garden
and by the fact that it would be considered unmannerly
for just anyone to want to speak to her or to do it,
("She would like someone to speak to her ,
And is almost afraid that I will commit that indiscretion.")
this also leads me to believe
that this is a somewhat long period of time ago.
Maybe in the times of the first kings and queens.
"And she is dying piecemeal of a sort of emotional anemia"
I imagine her to be of a fair or light colored complection.
Maybe she has been locked away inside for studies
or royal duties. I would imagine that in time a girl who was
dirty from being outside would be considered low class or low
in moral standards. Maybe she feels emotionless due to
the fact that she cannot show certain feelings or act in
certain ways in her position. Maybe she wants to dance
and be silly in the garden but she cannot because that
would not be very becoming of a young high class lady.
"She is dying piecemeal"
This makes me think she is unhappy with
her circumstances, that she is loosing herself or her ideal self.
I think she enjoys being outside, being as it is a
change pace from what she is accustom to.
I imagine her running her hands over
deep red roses she has probably touched very few
times in her life, and enjoying the sunlight that her
skin so desperately needs.
"And round about there is rabble
Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor"
There is some gateway or entrance to either the
garden or to the palace near the garden where poor
or lower class children are playing.
They are filthy due to the fact that they might
not have means to bathe, or they enjoy being dirty.
They are "sturdy" and "unkillable" in the sense that
the system of poor people seems rather prevalent.
All over the world there are some sort of poor class.
Even the Bible talks about there always being
poor among us. In a society where people can
become so rich, there will always be the
ability to be very poor.
I am sure she can not only hear them, but also see
them. I wonder though how she sees them through
such an emtionlessgaze. A part of me believes that she
would like to talk to them.
"She would like someone to speak to her...."
"In her is the end of breeding."
This could mean a number of things.
I view it personally as her being a
young queen or mistress to the king who is unable to
give a male heir. She is an end in the philosophy terms,
"an end as a means", she is only good
when giving heirs.
She also an "end" if she cannot produce a male heir,
as in those times a male was most preferable.
"Her boredom is exquisite and excessive"
If she is a queens maybe she feels bored of doing royal
duties for a number of reasons. She may not feel as if she is the
best to judge such matters. She feels as if she hates dealing with royal
matters. If she is a mistress maybe "entertaining the king"
persay, is becoming a boring task.
"She would like some one to speak to her,
And is almost afraid that I
will commit the indiscretion."
I wonder who she is talking about when she thinks this.
Is she talking about the male author?
Or the poor children?
Or any other royal person watching her?
I would like to think that she is looking at a child.
That maybe she misses the childlike attributes of herself.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Prejudice
I have always had the impression embedded in my mind that prejudice and discrimination are limited to religion and race. In my own personal dealings with these mistreatment, I think my naive behavior toward it has aided in my reaction with it. It seems as if we are raised through grade school with a curriculum of learning this. In elementary school we are taught about the civil war and the injustice shown to the slaves by the white Englishmen. This prejudice rooted in somewhat of a religious background. The African Americans were told even God himself did not see them as equals. In middle school we are constantly learning about the terrors of the holocaust and the terrible treatment of Jews from the Nazis. This prejudice rooted in various backgrounds. The hate of an authoritarian’s heart named Hitler, the soreness of a country growing towards poverty and the need for a new change and a new leader. Then in high school were are taught about clashing world cultures from the time of Columbus and the mistreatment of the South American people, to the present time battles between the United States and Iran and Iraq. When I started taking this class, Psychology of Adjustment, I read the portion of the book on prejudice and discrimination and it has really opened my eyes to the broadness of those categories.
In dealing with prejudice and the discrimination that usually follows, we have to identify what they really mean. Prejudice, in our book, is described as being “an unjustified negative attitude toward an individual based on the individual’s membership in a group” (Santrock, 2006, p.189). Discrimination is described as being “An unjustified negative or harmful action toward a member of a group simply because the person belongs to that group” (Santrock, 2006, p.189). Once I started to see the openness to these definitions I was soon faced with person instances. I went to a very small high school, roughly fifteen kids combined in the high school class. My graduating class was three seniors. It was me, my friend Cody who I have known my whole life, he is basically like my brother, and "John" (I will call him) one of my lifelong school mates. I have gone to school with John since kindergarten. He was one of those awesome people in your life that you just cannot forget. He was the class clown, but not in the usual bad way. He was extremely funny and made everyone’s life better, but with manners. He was raised very good, not to mention his mother worked at the school so if he got out of line she would have spanked him right in class probably. I considered John a spiritual friend of mine as well. He was part of The Church of God of Prophecy, and was throughout his school life training to become a lay minister. He was extremely knowledgeable in the word and I somewhat looked up to that quality about him. He basically read nothing else besides the Bible. We would often joke about him and say, “Where’s John at? Oh, he’s probably somewhere in the corner reading his Bible.” I think his homelike was less than favorable for him. His grandfather and father were ministers in that denomination and sometime in there life decided to give that role up to leave their wives for another woman to live with. John’s father had done this, and his mother was heart broken. His grandfather soon came back to the Lord and lived with John and his mother. He helped John perfect his craft of ministry. Sheldon began preaching everywhere; he even became one of the most well known speakers for his age in his denomination. Then this summer after graduation he called me one night. He said, “I have something to tell you. I am gay.” I was devastated by this blow because he seemed to me to be the farthest from homosexuality I could think of. I told him that I loved him and accepted him as a person and I would never turn my back on him. He went on to say how he told his family, and that they were disappointed. His mother completely quit speaking to him. His family had experienced this before when his cousin came out of the closet. They had tried to force him out of it due to the extremely strong religious background of the family. He just ended up moving out and having little contact with all of them. John told me he thought that they all seemed easier on him, and that he assumed that was the reason. Now his family does not invite him to “get-togethers”, and they have banished him from their church. They allow him to live in there home, but he rarely stays there. This even for me was an extreme shock, also because I have never had a homosexual friend before, and especially not one of my close friends. As I thought on this situation and read some on psychology text, I began to realize that John was going through a type of prejudice and discrimination from his family. I can understand to an extent the spirituality hesitance to the situation, because God is very clear about the sin. This would be a very hard situation to sort out. What I do not understand is the "extravagances" of this certain sin. I mean, why do we act so much differently towards the sin of homosexuality than towards lying? It is both sin. We do not condemn liars from our family. We do not discriminate against liars in our family. We might not even think twice about lying ourselves. Could it be the actual source of prejudice maybe? The text defines sources I think are very meaningful in this instance. The “individual personality” of the dominant people in his family might be a factor, or the chance that they might have an “authoritarian personality”, or someone who believes in strict adherence to traditional beliefs and aggression towards people who violate conventional norms, rigid thinking, and exaggerated submission to authority (Santrock, 2006, p.190). This could be a source of prejudice his family expresses towards him. I think they also practice what the text also describes as called “cultural learning”, or what you have grown up around or been taught you entire life. (Santrock, 2006, p.191).
How do we solve this problem? How do we propose to improve this situation? I propose that Christians in general, for once, stop being so close-minded. I am not in any way promoting homosexuality; I realize the word says it is wrong. I just believe that Christians try to put God in a box. How can God work through the lives of homosexual’s lives if all we ever do is shut them out? This is a form of what the text describes as “intimate contact”, or spending time with someone and understanding where they are coming from. Lets practice the love that Jesus showed. When he came, he did not hang around the churches, he spent time with the people no one wanted to minister to. I think God is calling us to a radical love. I want to learn to practice it.
Bibliography
Santrock, John W. Human Adjustment. New York City: McGraw-Hill Humanities/Social Sciences/Languages, 2005.
In dealing with prejudice and the discrimination that usually follows, we have to identify what they really mean. Prejudice, in our book, is described as being “an unjustified negative attitude toward an individual based on the individual’s membership in a group” (Santrock, 2006, p.189). Discrimination is described as being “An unjustified negative or harmful action toward a member of a group simply because the person belongs to that group” (Santrock, 2006, p.189). Once I started to see the openness to these definitions I was soon faced with person instances. I went to a very small high school, roughly fifteen kids combined in the high school class. My graduating class was three seniors. It was me, my friend Cody who I have known my whole life, he is basically like my brother, and "John" (I will call him) one of my lifelong school mates. I have gone to school with John since kindergarten. He was one of those awesome people in your life that you just cannot forget. He was the class clown, but not in the usual bad way. He was extremely funny and made everyone’s life better, but with manners. He was raised very good, not to mention his mother worked at the school so if he got out of line she would have spanked him right in class probably. I considered John a spiritual friend of mine as well. He was part of The Church of God of Prophecy, and was throughout his school life training to become a lay minister. He was extremely knowledgeable in the word and I somewhat looked up to that quality about him. He basically read nothing else besides the Bible. We would often joke about him and say, “Where’s John at? Oh, he’s probably somewhere in the corner reading his Bible.” I think his homelike was less than favorable for him. His grandfather and father were ministers in that denomination and sometime in there life decided to give that role up to leave their wives for another woman to live with. John’s father had done this, and his mother was heart broken. His grandfather soon came back to the Lord and lived with John and his mother. He helped John perfect his craft of ministry. Sheldon began preaching everywhere; he even became one of the most well known speakers for his age in his denomination. Then this summer after graduation he called me one night. He said, “I have something to tell you. I am gay.” I was devastated by this blow because he seemed to me to be the farthest from homosexuality I could think of. I told him that I loved him and accepted him as a person and I would never turn my back on him. He went on to say how he told his family, and that they were disappointed. His mother completely quit speaking to him. His family had experienced this before when his cousin came out of the closet. They had tried to force him out of it due to the extremely strong religious background of the family. He just ended up moving out and having little contact with all of them. John told me he thought that they all seemed easier on him, and that he assumed that was the reason. Now his family does not invite him to “get-togethers”, and they have banished him from their church. They allow him to live in there home, but he rarely stays there. This even for me was an extreme shock, also because I have never had a homosexual friend before, and especially not one of my close friends. As I thought on this situation and read some on psychology text, I began to realize that John was going through a type of prejudice and discrimination from his family. I can understand to an extent the spirituality hesitance to the situation, because God is very clear about the sin. This would be a very hard situation to sort out. What I do not understand is the "extravagances" of this certain sin. I mean, why do we act so much differently towards the sin of homosexuality than towards lying? It is both sin. We do not condemn liars from our family. We do not discriminate against liars in our family. We might not even think twice about lying ourselves. Could it be the actual source of prejudice maybe? The text defines sources I think are very meaningful in this instance. The “individual personality” of the dominant people in his family might be a factor, or the chance that they might have an “authoritarian personality”, or someone who believes in strict adherence to traditional beliefs and aggression towards people who violate conventional norms, rigid thinking, and exaggerated submission to authority (Santrock, 2006, p.190). This could be a source of prejudice his family expresses towards him. I think they also practice what the text also describes as called “cultural learning”, or what you have grown up around or been taught you entire life. (Santrock, 2006, p.191).
How do we solve this problem? How do we propose to improve this situation? I propose that Christians in general, for once, stop being so close-minded. I am not in any way promoting homosexuality; I realize the word says it is wrong. I just believe that Christians try to put God in a box. How can God work through the lives of homosexual’s lives if all we ever do is shut them out? This is a form of what the text describes as “intimate contact”, or spending time with someone and understanding where they are coming from. Lets practice the love that Jesus showed. When he came, he did not hang around the churches, he spent time with the people no one wanted to minister to. I think God is calling us to a radical love. I want to learn to practice it.
Bibliography
Santrock, John W. Human Adjustment. New York City: McGraw-Hill Humanities/Social Sciences/Languages, 2005.
Monday, October 19, 2009
The Observer
The Observer
Her name was Abigail. I had watched her play before. Our dorms are conveniently located next to the sports side of the campus, lucky for me, the most athletically challenged person alive. We must have a female tennis team because they are always there, day and night. They seemed almost obsessively devoted to the sport. They would be playing whether rain or shine, hot or cold weather. I guess the heat of Florida is subconsciously expected. It is always the same girls playing. Almost like I used to be with my guitar. I would play it anytime, and in any mood. Why I had stopped I do not know really. No, not that. I knew, but part of me was angry with myself for stopping. I let him get to me. Devotion meant something to them, devotion to the court with tennis I mean. Maybe I was just never really devoted. For some reason to this Abigail girl it was much more than just a tennis game. It is much more. I always notice her. As if her just being out there is an attraction. Attraction, like I get from watching seasoned guitarists or beautiful singers. That desire too had subsided. But if it really had, why is it still coming to my mind. You usually know if she is on the court because there is a somewhat larger than usual audience. She draws people. Easily. I noticed her on this particular night because she was no longer playing drills with her team, or being tested by her coach.
Their coach was a brassy man, Coach Mark they called him. I remember one day I was studying in the campus café and I heard a loud tire squeal. When I looked out the window I saw him jump off of the “sport coach designated golf cart” and violently open the door, which consequently slammed behind him. He rushed over to the deli and loudly demanded some health friendly sandwich. You know the kind I am talking about, the all protein kind of sandwich with “less carb” bread. I would not dare tell him today. While the deli lady prepared his sandwich his phone rang. He answered and quickly leaned over the counter to begin scribbling something on a paper menu he found close by. They lady set his finished plate above the deli shield and tried to get his attention. He turned sharply around and ended up knocking over the plat unto the ground. He flew into a rage and demanded the woman make him a new sandwich and that she ought to be more polite when she plainly saw that people were having more important calls than serving lunch. I heard the way he yelled at the girls when they missed, or if they seemed to not be running fast enough as well. The normal weather is grueling heat, and rest is quickly warranted. It is as if running thirty laps around the court is not enough, or the twelve consistent drills he runs them through.
It was not the coach I noticed tonight, but the fact that she was playing a young guy. He was someone close to her age by the looks of things. He was someone I recognized seeing with her before around the campus. Seems like when you become the most devoted to something is when you draw the most attention. Everyone wants to be your friend when you are going places and doing things with your life. When I first started learning guitar I let him show me how to play one of my favorite songs. That is how it starts. Innocent as it may look at first, your relationship progresses and gets more serious. Then your life transforms into their life. Your whole world starts changing from what you want to what they want. Then your devotion becomes a human. When you no longer move in a “fame like” direction or in a direction they think is favorable they move to the next “devotee” they meet, like a leach that feeds off the devotion of innocent girls.
Such a shame for her really, seeing as she really is so good. Your eyes are almost instinctively drawn to her, as if she commands your attention without saying a word. Even people from the courts directly beside hers have to stop and watch. People at the bench escaping the heat and drinking from their water bottles almost loose their thirst for a moment in regards to the intensity that was once directed towards their plastic, but their focus quickly becomes her.
The first time I ever sang it was like that, I was very young. I walked up to the middle of the stage. I could tell that everyone on the first row did not expect much because they were continuing to whisper and point at the flyer of the night’s schedule. I guess after hearing act after act of elementary age kids sing to popular radio songs you might not expect from the last act of the night who happens to be the youngest girl. If I was them I would probably be more occupied with keeping track of the time on my watch. The moment the first word escaped, they immediately looked up. The director of the talent show dropped her flyer. The words from my mouth almost like a tennis ball straight from Abigail’s racket. Commanding everyone’s attention.
This match was different though. She did not have the same extreme focus. She was laughing and acting childlike. Smiling at all his bad serves and huge dramatic dives from just her gentle tap. I was almost mad at her. She was letting him get to her and it was very obvious. I see her around campus. Everyone recognizes her. They congratulate her on being well taught.
“You are so talented”, they say. “What a gift you have!”
My director said the same thing. It is funny how everyone suddenly remembers your name when you are going somewhere. He remembered my name. Only he left with a part of me. Soon after that I began singing in everything I could. Pageants, fairs, talent shows, weddings, church, anywhere they would give me the microphone. They even let me into a bar to sing karaoke on my vacation one year in Key West. It was during high school that I met him. Everyone loved him. Stunning personality, always laughing and joking, but most importantly an excellent guitar player. We appeared to be a good match. He started playing for me when I sang places. It was a step up to go from singing with tracks to live music. Then he quickly became my guitar teacher. My guitar is dark purple, we became the even better match. You could say that was how our “relationship” started. Unfortunately he became more like an obsession for me. I started singing less and less to be around him. We were together all the time. Then one day another eager young devoted girl passed by and I became a memory. I had not played a day since he left, and I sing even less.
She seems to walk around happy and proud of herself. But, I wish I could ask her the same thing I have been asking myself. What does genuine passion look like?
I got up from the bench I was sitting in. My shade spot had changed with the suns position in the sky and I was becoming very hot. I walked to the library. It is always packed in there, a last resort on my part to go in. All I remember is finding a comfortable chair upstairs in a quiet spot. Next thing I know I was startled awake by the sound of the closing bell. I must have fallen asleep. There are two things I have lost since college, my appetite and sleep. I gathered my things and walked outside. As I was walking to my room I noticed Abigail and another girl shake hands and sit down at a table next to the cafe. The girl had a small interviewers note pad in her hand. Curious, I walked over to the table adjacent them and pulled out a book to seem occupied. The girl was apparently from newspaper being as she had a badge with the name on it. They were running her interview as a headline story. The conversation started with the interviewer.
“How do you describe yourself and your tennis style?” she asked.
“Well I am driven and I love the sport, which helps me play more freely. Those two characteristics keep me busy enough.” Abigail replied. The interviewer wrote on her pad violently. Then she asked, “Do you ever get tired of the sport? Do you ever just want to quit because it seems hard?”
Abigail quickly answered, “I don’t think I could quit if I wanted, it is a part of who I am. Plus, haven’t you ever seen our practices? Talk about learning focus.”
“I have seen them” the interviewer said, “Plus I know the coach personally, and that is enough to know you must be devoted. He works you guys hard. What I want to know is what is the secret to success? You must have one like lucky socks. Or, or maybe a four leaf clover?’ she added playfully.
“I have no secrets.” Abigail started, “I have lived my entire life with this devotion. It is burned into my heart. When I breathe, it breathes. We are each other. You mentioned earlier being tired, but it is the strength of the passion that gets me through the tired things. My love for it goes beyond emotions and my physical being. It is innate passion that drives me and I really think that will overcome anything.”
The moment she said this it all made sense. She was right. I have let him get the best of me. It was not him that made me love singing and playing, but the innate love for it I had inside me. If you let the whims get in the way of your true passions how will you ever succeed at anything? You miss what you truly love. I miss enjoying music and participating with it. The more I heard her talk about passion and drive, the more a realized how much of a fool I was for letting him ever stop me.
The moment I walked back into my room I pulled the case out from under my bed. A
s I unlocked it I could sense that old familiar smell. As my fingers gently touched the cold purple, I was flooded with memories. As I lifted my guitar to my lap and began to play, it was as if I had never stopped. No time was kept between us. It was just my guitar, and I the way it should be. I played for what seemed like only a few minutes, but when I looked at the time it had been an hour. And then I remembered that I had not thought about him one time since I started playing. Finally. You miss things you truly love and you let go of the things you never did.
(**This is a FICTIONAL story.
This story is not about me,
for anyone reading this from back home!!**)
Her name was Abigail. I had watched her play before. Our dorms are conveniently located next to the sports side of the campus, lucky for me, the most athletically challenged person alive. We must have a female tennis team because they are always there, day and night. They seemed almost obsessively devoted to the sport. They would be playing whether rain or shine, hot or cold weather. I guess the heat of Florida is subconsciously expected. It is always the same girls playing. Almost like I used to be with my guitar. I would play it anytime, and in any mood. Why I had stopped I do not know really. No, not that. I knew, but part of me was angry with myself for stopping. I let him get to me. Devotion meant something to them, devotion to the court with tennis I mean. Maybe I was just never really devoted. For some reason to this Abigail girl it was much more than just a tennis game. It is much more. I always notice her. As if her just being out there is an attraction. Attraction, like I get from watching seasoned guitarists or beautiful singers. That desire too had subsided. But if it really had, why is it still coming to my mind. You usually know if she is on the court because there is a somewhat larger than usual audience. She draws people. Easily. I noticed her on this particular night because she was no longer playing drills with her team, or being tested by her coach.
Their coach was a brassy man, Coach Mark they called him. I remember one day I was studying in the campus café and I heard a loud tire squeal. When I looked out the window I saw him jump off of the “sport coach designated golf cart” and violently open the door, which consequently slammed behind him. He rushed over to the deli and loudly demanded some health friendly sandwich. You know the kind I am talking about, the all protein kind of sandwich with “less carb” bread. I would not dare tell him today. While the deli lady prepared his sandwich his phone rang. He answered and quickly leaned over the counter to begin scribbling something on a paper menu he found close by. They lady set his finished plate above the deli shield and tried to get his attention. He turned sharply around and ended up knocking over the plat unto the ground. He flew into a rage and demanded the woman make him a new sandwich and that she ought to be more polite when she plainly saw that people were having more important calls than serving lunch. I heard the way he yelled at the girls when they missed, or if they seemed to not be running fast enough as well. The normal weather is grueling heat, and rest is quickly warranted. It is as if running thirty laps around the court is not enough, or the twelve consistent drills he runs them through.
It was not the coach I noticed tonight, but the fact that she was playing a young guy. He was someone close to her age by the looks of things. He was someone I recognized seeing with her before around the campus. Seems like when you become the most devoted to something is when you draw the most attention. Everyone wants to be your friend when you are going places and doing things with your life. When I first started learning guitar I let him show me how to play one of my favorite songs. That is how it starts. Innocent as it may look at first, your relationship progresses and gets more serious. Then your life transforms into their life. Your whole world starts changing from what you want to what they want. Then your devotion becomes a human. When you no longer move in a “fame like” direction or in a direction they think is favorable they move to the next “devotee” they meet, like a leach that feeds off the devotion of innocent girls.
Such a shame for her really, seeing as she really is so good. Your eyes are almost instinctively drawn to her, as if she commands your attention without saying a word. Even people from the courts directly beside hers have to stop and watch. People at the bench escaping the heat and drinking from their water bottles almost loose their thirst for a moment in regards to the intensity that was once directed towards their plastic, but their focus quickly becomes her.
The first time I ever sang it was like that, I was very young. I walked up to the middle of the stage. I could tell that everyone on the first row did not expect much because they were continuing to whisper and point at the flyer of the night’s schedule. I guess after hearing act after act of elementary age kids sing to popular radio songs you might not expect from the last act of the night who happens to be the youngest girl. If I was them I would probably be more occupied with keeping track of the time on my watch. The moment the first word escaped, they immediately looked up. The director of the talent show dropped her flyer. The words from my mouth almost like a tennis ball straight from Abigail’s racket. Commanding everyone’s attention.
This match was different though. She did not have the same extreme focus. She was laughing and acting childlike. Smiling at all his bad serves and huge dramatic dives from just her gentle tap. I was almost mad at her. She was letting him get to her and it was very obvious. I see her around campus. Everyone recognizes her. They congratulate her on being well taught.
“You are so talented”, they say. “What a gift you have!”
My director said the same thing. It is funny how everyone suddenly remembers your name when you are going somewhere. He remembered my name. Only he left with a part of me. Soon after that I began singing in everything I could. Pageants, fairs, talent shows, weddings, church, anywhere they would give me the microphone. They even let me into a bar to sing karaoke on my vacation one year in Key West. It was during high school that I met him. Everyone loved him. Stunning personality, always laughing and joking, but most importantly an excellent guitar player. We appeared to be a good match. He started playing for me when I sang places. It was a step up to go from singing with tracks to live music. Then he quickly became my guitar teacher. My guitar is dark purple, we became the even better match. You could say that was how our “relationship” started. Unfortunately he became more like an obsession for me. I started singing less and less to be around him. We were together all the time. Then one day another eager young devoted girl passed by and I became a memory. I had not played a day since he left, and I sing even less.
She seems to walk around happy and proud of herself. But, I wish I could ask her the same thing I have been asking myself. What does genuine passion look like?
I got up from the bench I was sitting in. My shade spot had changed with the suns position in the sky and I was becoming very hot. I walked to the library. It is always packed in there, a last resort on my part to go in. All I remember is finding a comfortable chair upstairs in a quiet spot. Next thing I know I was startled awake by the sound of the closing bell. I must have fallen asleep. There are two things I have lost since college, my appetite and sleep. I gathered my things and walked outside. As I was walking to my room I noticed Abigail and another girl shake hands and sit down at a table next to the cafe. The girl had a small interviewers note pad in her hand. Curious, I walked over to the table adjacent them and pulled out a book to seem occupied. The girl was apparently from newspaper being as she had a badge with the name on it. They were running her interview as a headline story. The conversation started with the interviewer.
“How do you describe yourself and your tennis style?” she asked.
“Well I am driven and I love the sport, which helps me play more freely. Those two characteristics keep me busy enough.” Abigail replied. The interviewer wrote on her pad violently. Then she asked, “Do you ever get tired of the sport? Do you ever just want to quit because it seems hard?”
Abigail quickly answered, “I don’t think I could quit if I wanted, it is a part of who I am. Plus, haven’t you ever seen our practices? Talk about learning focus.”
“I have seen them” the interviewer said, “Plus I know the coach personally, and that is enough to know you must be devoted. He works you guys hard. What I want to know is what is the secret to success? You must have one like lucky socks. Or, or maybe a four leaf clover?’ she added playfully.
“I have no secrets.” Abigail started, “I have lived my entire life with this devotion. It is burned into my heart. When I breathe, it breathes. We are each other. You mentioned earlier being tired, but it is the strength of the passion that gets me through the tired things. My love for it goes beyond emotions and my physical being. It is innate passion that drives me and I really think that will overcome anything.”
The moment she said this it all made sense. She was right. I have let him get the best of me. It was not him that made me love singing and playing, but the innate love for it I had inside me. If you let the whims get in the way of your true passions how will you ever succeed at anything? You miss what you truly love. I miss enjoying music and participating with it. The more I heard her talk about passion and drive, the more a realized how much of a fool I was for letting him ever stop me.
The moment I walked back into my room I pulled the case out from under my bed. A
s I unlocked it I could sense that old familiar smell. As my fingers gently touched the cold purple, I was flooded with memories. As I lifted my guitar to my lap and began to play, it was as if I had never stopped. No time was kept between us. It was just my guitar, and I the way it should be. I played for what seemed like only a few minutes, but when I looked at the time it had been an hour. And then I remembered that I had not thought about him one time since I started playing. Finally. You miss things you truly love and you let go of the things you never did.(**This is a FICTIONAL story.
This story is not about me,
for anyone reading this from back home!!**)
Friday, October 16, 2009
"Courage, Truth, and Honor"
The Tale of Despereaux
A. Synopsis of the Plot:
A curious little rat named Roscuro falls into the Queen of Dor's soup on the infamous soup day.
It frightens the timid queen so much so that she dies and leaves the king and her daughter, Princess Pea, to mourn and consequently ban soup day and all rat kind. Roscuro trying to escape the guards falls into the dungeon which is also Ratworld and it found by the leader and taken under he wing. Everyone in the kingdom of Dor becomes so sad that all the colors leave and it stops raining. At the same time a courageous mouse named Despereaux is exiled to Ratworld for the inability to be taught mouse like behavior at mouse school, like scurrying about, timidity, and the tendency to be easily frightened. Also at the same time a servant girl to the Princess Pea named Miggery Sow wants so bad to be a princess herself very badly. Roscuro tries to make things right with Princess Pea and apologize but she instead goes into a panic attack when she sees him. He is so upset that he talks Miggery into kidnapping the princess so they can eat her in Ratworld. Despereaux comes to her rescue and she is saved.
B. Characters:
- Roscuro: Is a sea rat with pirate like clothing and an earring. Is thoughts at first are noble, but like anyone who has ever been hurt he falls into heartbreak and seeks revenge. You know that his character is truly good because in the end he forgives Princess Pea and helps save her life. This change of character makes him a round, dynamic charcter.
- Despereaux: "A hero doesn't appear until the worls really needs one"
- Miggery Sow: "She had so much heart that it left a mark on her back"
- Princess Pea: "Whenever you have hope you are nobody's prisoner"
C. Discussion Questions:
- In this film, the scene being shown sometimes contradicts what the narrator is saying. Can you point to any instances of this? What might the contradiction mean?
- How does the story deal with harsh, realities such as poverty, death, and greed with children involved?
- This story takes on the form of a fairy tale (for children, nonetheless). As with many fairy tales, there is no “clear” moral and yet there are clearly important issues of morality discussed. In general, are fairy tales useful for examining our lives? In particular, is this one? How?
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