Creeping Death

Today’s field trip to the cemetery reminded me of that feeling. Death, to me, has a very distinct feeling, one of a creeping sort. The song titled Creeping Death by Metallica puts this feeling into perspective: “Die by my hand I creep across the land…. Rule the midnight air, the destroyer Born I shall soon be there, deadly mass I creep the steps and floor, final darkness Blood” Even though the song is talking about a much different subject, the same still remains true. Certain things are associated with death, and every time I set foot on a cemetery or a hospital, I am immediately reminded. It was when I was walking down the main sidewalk of the cemetery when I had a flashback. One of the most recent funerals I have attended was my father’s mother Mimi. She was my father’s only and closest family besides his sister who was born before him out of wedlock, and consequently put into adoption due to the circumstances. They never knew each other until later in life when they finally met up. She is in the music industry and she is very famous now, fortunately she was not yet famous when they first started forming a relationship. When Mimi died is was not a huge emotional blow to my dad but also my aunt Faith (My dad’s sister). They immediately started making funeral arrangements but the weight of her death had already taken a huge effect on my father. She died completely unexpectedly from cardiac arrest, and she was quite young in her early fifties. I have not ever seen my father in a state like that. He cried constantly and locked himself in his room for almost three days straight. My father never cries. Ever. I said all this to say that when I was in the cemetery today I had a flashback to the actual gravesite of her funeral. There were so many people there, but I think it was more for them to see my aunt Faith than to actually morn my grandmothers passing. People can be so shallow. Unless you have ever experienced loss, I guess it is hard for you to empathize with it. It is so delicate and it affects everyone so differently. You yourself have no idea of knowing how you will react to it until it creeps into your own life. That is how it was for my father. He had no idea of knowing she was even close to dying. It just showed up. If I have learned anything from these experiences and these reflections it is not to take death lightly. It is very real and it has no rules. It creeps along. And you never know where it will turn up. Be careful with your intentions and with what you say around death and grieving. You could end up bruising an already painful spot. Reflect on your own life and it’s direction. Let not traditions of men get in between you and your goals; do not ever let fame take the front seat. Not only in your own personal life, but also in your intentions like the minds of the many heartless people who attended Mimi’s funeral just to say they saw a celebrity. Everyone experiences death and grief. What will you do with it?

When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom’d
Walt Whitman (1819–1892). Leaves of Grass. 1900.

A.) My Favorite Line Of The Poem:

Over the breast of the spring, the land, amid cities,
Amid lanes, and through old woods, (where lately the violets peep’d from the ground, spotting the gray debris;)
Amid the grass in the fields each side of the lanes—passing the endless grass;
Passing the yellow-spear’d wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields uprising;
Passing the apple-tree blows of white and pink in the orchards;	30
Carrying a corpse to where it shall rest in the grave,
Night and day journeys a coffin.

I love the contrast of the beautiful scenery and the somber coffin traveling through it. It just reminds me of how death looks to us when it passes our way. Our lives, good or bad, seem beautiful in contrast to death. When it creeps into our lives it affects us, just like the beautiful countryside. It is almost like a big colorful painting and all the sudden someone begins to paint black smudges all over it.


C.) History On Walt Whitman's Poem

"Between the publication of the third edition of Leaves of Grass in 1860 and the fourth in 1867, Walt Whitman's (1819–1892) life and the life of the country underwent major changes revolving around the outbreak of the Civil War. In December 1862 Whitman traveled from New York City to Fredericksburg, Virginia, to find his brother George, who had been wounded in the battle there. Whitman stayed for nearly two weeks, searching for his brother in the hospitals of the capital and eventually finding him in Fredericksburg. In January 1863 he moved to Washington, D.C., in order to visit the wounded, sick, and dying soldiers in the military hospitals. In three years Whitman visited thousands of young men, dispensing small gifts and writing letters for the badly wounded and illiterate. Meanwhile the poet managed to find a part-time position as a copyist in the Army Paymaster's Office; eventually he would become a clerk in the Interior Department and in the Attorney Generals Office, remaining in government service until he suffered a paralytic stroke in 1873. In the little free time he had left, Whitman walked along Rock Creek with a new friend, the naturalist John Burroughs (1837–1921), who would become his first biographer and lifelong defender. Whitman's aesthetic revolution, both in subject matter and in technique, led to censorship, dismissal from government service, and moral outrage, but Burroughs was a steadfast critical voice from 1865 to his own death in 1921."

(http://www.enotes.com/american-history-literature/when-lilacs-last-dooryard-bloom-d)


D.) History On Elegy

Funeral Poems: The History of the Eulogy & Elegy

"The funeral eulogy or elegy is one of the most popular formats used in funeral and memorial services today. This article provides an interesting history of this poetry writing format and how it has come to be prevalent for saying goodbye to a loved one.

People almost exclusively associate a funeral eulogy or elegy with the passing of a friend or loved one. While it is true that the modern versions are indeed most often used to lament someones death, the two distinct literary styles have a long and surprising history. A Eulogy is used to describe nearly any speech or writing that pays tribute to a person or people that have recently passed away. The word is derived from the two Greek words for "you" and "word." Eulogies can also be used to praise a person that is still alive; this type of eulogy is often used at birthdays and other special occasions. While eulogies are considered appropriate in most funeral situations, some cultures and religions, like Catholicism prefer not to include them in services. The elegy dates back to classical Greek poetry. The elegiac meter contains two lines, known as a couplet and combines many of these couplets to create the funeral poem. One of the most influential early elegiac writers was Callimachus whose writings had dramatic impact on such classic Roman poets as Catullus, Propertius, Tibullus and Ovid. Catullus' 85th poem is one of the better know Latin elegies. Written for his lover, Lesbia, the poem expresses conflicting emotion of both love and hatred:

"odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
nescio, sed fieri sentio et ecrucior."
"I hate and I love. Why do I do this, you might ask?
I know not, but I feel it happening and I am tortured"

The feeling of helplessness express here is still very prevalent in modern elegies. Elegiac poetry was originally championed as simply a way to express the beauty and grandeur of what we consider a classic roman epic poem in a shorter but equally noteworthy manner. Eventually, Roman authors also began to use the elegiac form to express strong emotion as well as tell stories. The use of elegiac poetry is evidenced in some of the works of Ovid, Propertius and others who used it to tell stories like the origin of Rome and the Temple of Apollo. It was some of the English poets like Lord Tennyson and Thomas Gray that gave the elegy the characteristically somber tone we are now accustomed to. "Lady of Shalott" by Tennyson retained the elegiac tone and paired the praise it offered with a very mournful tone. Gray's "Elegy Written in a Country Courtyard" inspired many poets of the time to take up the elegy. Most of these other poets used the format to express solitude and mourning in a very general way. Poets of the Romantic era attempted to use elegiac poetry in a lyrical way. Samuel Taylor Coleridge claimed the elegy was "most natural to the reflective mind." After the Romantic period, however, the elegy became more and more synonymous with lamentation. Eventually, the form settled into its common modern use as a way to mourn and celebrate the dead. The eulogy and elegy both have a long, varied history that has led them to become the most popular poetry form for expressing loss, love and sorrow. Though they differ in origin, age and versatility, both forms of funeral lamentation can be a touching and heartfelt tribute to a newly departed loved one. These memorial poetry formats can be used as a farewell or a way to help the bereaved find comfort and closure in incredibly difficult times. Whether used in a speech, obituary or epitaph, eulogies and elegies are beautiful ways to find the beauty in sadness, the laudation in mournful observance. "

(http://www.ask.com/bar?q=History+about+a+elegy+poem&page=1&qsrc=2417&ab=0&u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.buzzle.com%2Farticles%2Ffuneral-poems-the-history-of-the-eulogy--elegy.html)

Condolance

When we were reading the poems in class Thursday I was immediately reminded of something I experienced lately. My grandma died about a year ago. She was basically my dad’s whole family, so her death was very devastating to not only my dad but also to our whole family. My dad’s father died when he was very young, and he had no siblings, that he knew about…but that’s another story. My family has been a part of lots of churches in the area so we were visited by many “religious” people, and all I can remember is every single person one after the next trying so hard to come up with something “spiritual” to say. Anyone who has ever experienced loss understands what I’m talking about.

“She is in a better place”
“You will see her again someday”
“The Lord calls everyone at their time”
“Everybody has to die someday”

All the while all being the farthest thing from what I wanted to hear…

“I love you and I’m here for you if you need anything.”

What has happened to this phrase? Do people not realize that grief hurts? I’m tired of “religious people” trying desperately trying to fit stereotypical phrases into a broken heart. It does not fit.

I was invited to a retreat to sing this summer for teens and college kids. A friend of mine had invited a girl to come with her that was not saved, so maybe she could experience Christ on the trip. The second day into the trip there was word from our hometown that three very well known boys on the community had been in an accident and they were all killed. They happened to be best friends with the lost girl and she was in immediate hysteria. After that I heard everyone trying to feed her the same lines. I do not want to come off heartless, I mean I know that in grievous times you are not what to say in condolence. All I know, is that when I was in that situation those phrases made my hurt sting. When you experience pain, you are very vulnerable and not quite open to receive spiritual doctrine.

In these circumstances, let us not try to create such a spiritual persona. I propose that we come to each other in love, and love on the people, and forget the “traditions of men” and the traditional sayings. Sometimes saying nothing at all is best. Let Jesus speak the loudest. He always knows what to say. And he always knows when the person is ready to receive.

Growing Up

Lately things in my life have had the appearance of "crashing down". I could easily attribute that to a word I am becoming increasingly familiar with called change. I am a very happy person, so being sad is one thing I try to avoid and generally have never had to deal with. I've been going through some things lately in my own life and in my newfound college life. I have even thought to myself, out of everything I have ever thought about knowing or established as concrete in my life, nothing has truly been the way I had come to accept it to be. I had constructed this concept or picture, if you will, of what my life looked like, and that may or may not incorporate into the new life I was taking and will continue to take on. This relates directly with the article we were just reading in Literature in many ways. The article “The Wild Man of the Green Swamp” entices such a well thought point at the end evaluation that ties together also with theme, which is the title of the entire chapter. It says, “Even though Hong Kingston does not paste a moral at the end of her story, the story may inspire us to ask whether we too often read the world in a childish way when we experience it through the limited lens of media.” Not only had I naively “constructed” my life’s “picture”, but upon examination I came to realize my original blueprints had been constructed by too many opinions of others. I had built my previous life around what had been portrayed to me by other people. That is a very frail system, and its weakness is starting to show. I have to be weak so he can be made strong. I can't count on anyone or anything. Last night God showed me something I thought I already knew and literally made to become real to me. You can't put your trust or hope on anyone but him. Life, people, everything will fail you in this life, even yourself or your perception of yourself. The theme of my life should be based on my journey with him, and I should not be focused simply on the plot and outcome or “product”. This blog is to anyone who's ever felt like giving up or giving in. Trust in God, it is part of growing up and understanding your own life’s theme.

"The steps of a [good] man are ordered by the LORD: and he delighted in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down: for the LORD uphold [him with] his hand." Ps.37: 23,24

The Things They Carried

"The Things They Carried", written by Tim O'Brien, was such a vivid depiction of war. Maybe the actual "things they carried" has been a somewhat less elaborated part of war literature, or this was my first exposure to it because I never knew quite the extent or even close to what they actually carried or were even required to. When I was reading this story, I was first quilted by my own ignorance towards war literary and slang terms, war effects as far as on the actually soldiers, and maybe an overall ignorance towards war in general. In other words, my response to this reading was more of shock than anything else. Yes, I know some things about wart, but not quite like this. The way the story described the just the walking conditions of the soldiers was enough to make me appreciate the fact I do not have to “watch my back” in some respect when walking here in America anywhere.
I cannot imagine the constant feeling of never being safe, even in a somewhat happy moment. This is depicted so splendidly at the part of the story when they all draw straws to be lowered into some sort of enemy tunnel system. They lowered a fellow soldier by the name of Lee Strunk down into the tunnel and he did not return to the surface for what seemed to them a long time. They almost accounted it in the story to a cave-in. When he finally returned to the surface of the tunnel the story seems to take a dramatic turn. They went from being almost numb and life-less walkers, to smiling, clapping, making jokes, and for a moment having a “safe” happy moment. When suddenly, right in that safe moment, Ted Lavender is shot.
I think overall the story is describing not the carnal things the men carry but the spiritual and emotional “things” the men carried. They all carried more than just bags, guns of every sort, and assorted personal items; they carried who they were and what meant something to them. To some of them, it was a family token, and to some of them letters or anything that reminded them of being back home.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Love

In reading this story, I cannot help but be reminded of my own relational disasters. I have tried to rush things, or I have tried to make certain relationships work, only to see it's consequential downfall. I have come to the conclusion that love is messy. It has no reason. You cannot make it, buy, or conjure it up. Love happens. But true love only comes from one place, and that is from Jesus. "No greater love than this, than for a man to lay down his life for a friend". While I was reading this story it brought to mind the frailness of "human love". All the love we could ever show to one another put together would not even be a drop in the bucket compared to God's love. So I painted this, not so good, picture of the image that comes to mind which is what I talk about when I talk about true love.