Special Post #2

1. "What sort of lover am I to think so much about my affliction and so much less about hers? Even the insane call, 'Come back,' is all for my own sake. I never even raised the question whether such a return, if it were possible, would be good for her. I want her back as an ingredient in the restoration of my past. Could I have wished for anything worse?" C.S Lewis, A Grief Observed, Pg. 41
On this page C.S Lewis is continuing in his thoughts on grief. He has lost the love of his life and is trying to healthy mourn for her lost but her finds himself desiring her back even though that may not be the best option for her. This could be for several reasons. She was in several pain due to her body trying to fight renal failure, just possibly she would have grown to no longer love him (his thought in the book), they could have been living a life of lies, or possibly this could be the rantings of a lonely man. I am going to stray away from saying it is merely rantings.

2. The reason that this passage needs to be interpreted is because C.S Lewis has never before revealed parts of himself to this degree before. When I first read this book, I had to double take at the authors name. Not because there weren't complex metaphors or because I was bored to tear, but rather it was the fact that I thought I was reading someone's journal rather than a piece of literature (perhaps they are all the same). C.S Lewis goes from challenging our faith, to the magical land of Narnia and then takes us for a journey into the deepest, and perhaps most darkness places of his soul. Reading this passage I was not sure what to take away. Usually it is just a part of grief to mourn for ones lost spouse but this grief seemed much darker than anything I had read. It was as if the possibility of is his wife had no passed, would they live together a few more years and realize they never loved each other. That their actions throughout their marriage were self based even so would her return be for someone else other than himself?

3. This story is about grief, and to the extent that this book is about the deepest, most dark places of ones soul that can only be revealed or shown when going through absolute despair. C.S Lewis has reached this point due to the loss of his wife. When she was alive I would imagine that the love that they shared was strong, but I believe even more so that it was proved to be stronger than he ever thought after she was no longer present in the flesh. I was very young when I loss my grandmother, even so young that it was almost beyond my comprehension. I was extremely close with her, and I can relate to wanting to almost have her stay due to the light she carried into the room with her, however reasons for keeping her would not be as persuasive as the reasons as to why she had to go. She was in suffering much like Lewis' wife, her time on the earth was completed. That still didn't take away the sting and pain of having to watch her go. This line pierces me when I think of her death, "I want her back as an ingredient in the restoration of my past." Most of the memories I had as a child were at her house laughing and playing with all of the collectible jewelry she kept from over the years. When Lewis says this life, I believe him to be meaning that one of the reasons for wanting her back is so that he can remember parts of his past he may feel the need now to suppress due to the pain it causes to relive those moments. It is this tension between is my pain greater than the pain she felt. Is my desire for her back completely devoid of her feelings and if so is this love?

4. I believe that is a correlation between the thoughts of Lewis and I. In the very next page, he continues to discusses this grief he feels with the idea that there is a possibility that his sin and her sin would drive them to realize each others sin and push them away from one another. I can see that he is beginning to doubt in his faith. No so much as it relates to God but his faith in the love he shared with his wife. He wants her back to remember the past but the idea and reality of dealing with what could of happened in the future is sounding greater than his desire to have her back. This very well could just be the settling of the grief portraying him to be a different man. If I am just being honest grief also brings out sides of me that I never knew existed. Its as if to be tapped into the full self is to be pulled from all sense of bliss in order to embrace the reality. Perhaps that is too much of my extremist personality lets meet halfway. To know joy we must experience suffering. Instead of brashly pushing it away we must sometimes embrace it, for its season will come and go but there are lessons to be learned during these times. I suppose this was a bit of a tangent to go on but I believe after reading the next couple of pages Lewis and I are united to a point in our thoughts.

5. Its no so much that my interpretation matters as much as it matters to interpret what is mean't and what the purpose is to suffer. The author throughout this book is searching for the purpose of grief and loss are. He knows that everyone dies and that eventually he too will also die, however embracing this death proves to be more difficult than he bargained for. His love for H was strong but perhaps it was only as strong as he made it. Perhaps the illusion of what they had is what he holds near and tight to rather than what they really were. We all must experience suffering, in order to realize what joy can be found in life. If there were only moments of laughter not sadness we, I believe would have this strong sense of community. Without moments of tears we become just one sided beings, unlike the round and broad creatures that the Lord has so carefully constructed.


I end this post on this note. While I have said what I believe my interpretation of this text is, always remember "interpretation much like beauty, is in the eyes of the beholder."

The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas

I understand that this post is late, but it took me a few days to digest this story. Upon reading this I was filled with sadness, followed quickly by anger. I cannot fathom a village using a child in a cruel and inhumane way. I continue to read the idea of some staying and others leaving Omelas because they simply cannot take this injustice and have no other options. To stay is to embrace the idea of using a child in order to keep such beauty but to leave is to neglect the matter completely. I tried to imagine if I could stay in a village where this was happening. If I knew that in order to maintain the most beautiful city is to completely destroy a child's life then I want to say I would stand up to this injustice. However, I am convicted because on my shirt says made in China. I can more than likely picture that halfway across the world there was someone that had to pick the cotton to make this shirt and then spend hours sowing it together for mere pennies an hour. I think about my mom who has had to give up so much just so I can come to school and get a great education. She has sacrificed so much out of her love for me. Another thought, probably the most moving is Jesus sacrificing His life for me so that I could on dat know him and have a deep and intimate relationship with Him. The child is a representation of Jesus. The sacrifice to maintain the beauty is what he does everyday. The beauty we see around us is the reflection and result of the ultimate sacrifice. We can marvel at beauty and breathe in beautiful moments because there was one who allowed Himself to be broken beyond recognition. This is love.

A Temple of the Holy Ghost

When I read this title I thought for some reason it would lead into a discussion of the body. I am not quite sure why but reading the title had my mind elsewhere.
In the first couple of lines I am already falling in love with the way in which the writer communicates. "Getting so red and hot that they were ugly." I can picture myself as one of these girls laughing as my freckled covered face turned red. I used to put on my moms lipstick when I was little and even thought it wasn't quite my color I wanted to be like mom. I say all of this because I imagine that these little girls did the very same thing. Being young and wanting to feel older they took the bright colored lipstick and scribbled it on their face clunking around in high heels too big for their feet.
Fast forward I see this image, "The sun was going down and the sky was turning a bruised violet color that seemed to be connected with the sweet mournful sound of the music." This imagery is absolutely beautiful. When I think of the color violet I am connected to flowers, no matter what color they are I think of them as purple. To me purple is this sign of beauty found in the most overlooked things. The going down of the sun is one of my favorite parts of the day. It seems to resolve everything and create this separation in which carries us into a night of limitless possibilities.
I am unable to identify my favorite character. I think it may Susan, but I am not sure if that is because of her character or because of the fact that she is a skinny, pale, redhead (do you see the possibility for the bias?) The two girls remind me of my friendship with my friend Anna Marie. She has this beautiful blonde hair that tendrils up. She does not sound nasally but she, if embarrassed enough will tun different colors. We find ourselves doing this quite often.
I think my favorite scene is when the boys begin to play music. With nothing ringing in the air but a guitar and a harmonica they find themselves becoming lost in the music. I love to sit in my room and stum on my guitar. Even though I have much to learn I feel a peace when I hear the sound of the guitar expanding to fill my room.
I say all of this to conclude with this, I really enjoyed this story.

A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings

I have to say, this is one of weirdest stories I have read for this class yet.
When I say weird I mean angel falling from heaven and living in a chicken cope type of weird. I suppose there is symbolism within each element. Like him being in a cage could represent the feelings we have as being trapped in a situation or in a particular place in society. Perhaps the throwing of the rocks at the angel represent Stephen the Matyr. Maybe just maybe the author knew a man who lived in a chicken cope. All of these questions may seem weird but reading this story that is what I was left with, questions.
The author was interesting, born in Columbia, close with his grandmother and loved telling stories. I imagine that he is inspired by the stories he has heard from his family. As if as a child he climbed into his grandfathers lap and listened as he told of war tales and or love.
I can relate to the author in this feeling of inspiration. My grandparents have beautiful stories and often times I will go to their house to hear them tell me of their days. I sometimes cannot avoid them. I will be doing something in the kitchen and from across the house my grandmothers voice rings in the air "in my day we walked to school in the snow".  I may laugh and joke with her at the time but these stories she tells me leave an imprint in my heart. I desire that my house one day is filled with stories, stories of the past, present and future.
I am not sure if this is what the story was supposed to evoke but it definitely got me thinking of the beautiful memories of my grandparents.
I am not sure why exactly this story matters in my life, but to someone, somewhere this story tells a tale deeper than what I have read.

Lake Bonny Park Expedition

"I went to Lake Bonny Park for this field trip, and I stayed there for at least 45 minutes."
Now that I got that off my chest, here goes it. 
I enjoy parks more than most things. I love the fresh air, the jungle gym and the possibility of me missing the monkey bars and landing directly on the mulch. I guess one could say adventure is my middle name. That why on this trip to Lake Bonny Park I found myself picking oranges in the field next to the signs that read "Beware Alligators". I loved the taste of the citrus juices as they flowed through my mouth and gave me such a feeling of satisfaction.  
Well enough about the fruit now about the weather. I went to the park during the afternoon and the weather could not have been more ideal. It wasn't wet from the rain but dry and inviting. I enjoyed the way the grass felt as I took off my shoes and laid out with the sun cascading over my shoulders and face. 


The sun shines as if only for me,
As I lay in the grass I can almost feel its colors of green.


One of my favorite poems of the class was Mary Oliver's Six Recognitions of the Lord I especially enjoy the following line: "Of course I have always known you are present in the clouds, and the black oak I especially adore, and the wings of birds."


I can hear the song of my winged friends,
Even they can feel Your presence in the wind.


I love the way she places you in the middle of her poems. I can relate her experience to nature with mine. I have always loved being outside and I suspect that I will enjoy it until the day I die. I suppose its ironic as a child I played in the dirt when I am old my body will return to the soil. Hope that was not too morbid a thought. 


I shuffle my toes in the dirt,
I can feel the stain of the soil remain


I have to say having a class require me to do things like write poetry and play at a park sounds like my type of learning. 

The sun shines as if only for me,

As I lay in the grass I can almost feel its colors of green.

I can hear the song of my winged friends,

Even they can feel Your presence as they soar in the wind.

I shuffle my toes in the dirt,

I can feel the stain of the soil remain.

This imprint remains not just simply between the cracks of my soles,

But its pigment fuses to my heart.

Its quite possible that my being is tied with the trees, 

And my feet tread on the tracks of the natives.

I believe my ancestors got it right,

Stripped to a tippee, the grass, and family.

The basics are where I find happiness,

It is in this simplicity that I feel such an effortless bliss.

The world demands for life at just a click away,

Nature screams wait I have something to say.

The daily news screams what is wrong with the world, 

But a day in the grass are stories untold.

For the patience and stillness brings comfort to the soul,

While the business or life just demands control.

So if my thoughts had a voice, here is what they would say,

If you're patient my friend I will talk your breath away.

Circle B

The day started off grey and dreary and the possibility for rain hung in the sky. I arrived at Circle B Ranch excited for a day of nature. I loved the smell of wood as I walked into the information center and enjoy the fresh air even more as I left the center.
Our journey began to benches where we reread the Robert Hass poem of which I loved even more outdoors.
I had no idea of what we would be doing but I enjoyed Mrs. Cotton's enthusiasm as she tried to capture every moment on her tiny silver digital camera.
I enjoy nature so much and I can recall moments where I would come home from church and climb my neighbors tree in my sundress. My neighbor didn't enjoy me doing this as much as I did, and often times he would tell me to get down from the nearest window. Nature has always been something that has captivated my interest, therefore the these sections on nature have been some of my favorite.
Robert Hass's poem was very beautiful. It difficult at times to grasp but I could appreciate his beautiful imagery and language that was anything but simplistic. I found myself looking up new words that I didn't understand and this has not been a practice I have used in a long time.

We sat gathered on the coldness of silver,
with moss gangling over our heads.
The sky remained cold,
But the words in the air brought warmth.
Merrily picking weeds we learned how to care for what was not human,
And I found myself caring for the green that was being removed.
A stroll by the river made me realize how small I am,
But gazing at it gave me back the sense of significance I had lost. 
For such beauty was seen,
In the coldest of springs.


I have to say nature has been taking up a large portion of my heart lately.

Reflections on State of the Planet

I will admit, I love this poem. I could literally close my eyes and see images of the beauty the author wrote about. He used beautiful grammar and engaged my attention.
There is a particular line that stood out to me "poetry should be able to comprehend the earth", I don't know if I agree with this statement. I do not know if mere words can fully comprehend the beauty the Lord has crafted together. Words all to often fall short, but I can push back and say poetry is our attempt to comprehend the earth.

After reading this poem I was inspired to write a few lines of my own.
There is beauty found in the wind, in the sun and even in the shadows
His reflection can be seen in the sky and in the ripples of the water
The deer pants for such and the trees begin their howls
We the clay and He, the ultimate potter


This man he spoke of, was a roman poet. I imagine that his poetry was the inspiration for our author Robert Hass. He spoke of Venus and things I have never seen but I imagined what such beauty could look like.

The way Robert Hass ends this poem is with more of a reflection on what he is saying. The beginning of the poem is an introduction to beauty and the end is looking back on this beauty and realizing that we will all face the sting of death. Is it really a sting or more and arriving of what is hoped for. For me death is not all that morbid. It is the returning to the place my heart longs for. I suppose that those I leave behind will miss me but the One who awaits me is the One I was created to one day see.

There was not a particular stanza or line that confused me, but the concept was an interesting one to me. I was not familiar with Lucretius's work and this poem was a reflection of his so I had to reread somethings over and over again to fully grasp the main idea.