Special Post #2- "Walking Home from Oak-Head"

1.

The piece that I chose to write about was Mary Oliver’s “Walking Home from Oak-Head.” Her poetry is beautiful and this work is especially striking with its vivid imagery, to bring “the snow-laden sky in winter” to life. The title, “Walking Home from Oak-Head” reveals what this poem is about. Oliver paints a picture of a person traveling on foot through the snow. This character is not in a hurry to arrive home, but rather, she takes time to stand still in the peace of the woods, to let the snow fall around herself and enjoy “the lovely meaninglessness of time.” Eventually, after reflecting and walking, the traveler comes to her destination and vigorously  stamps her boots, as the residue of the snowflakes is still on her shoulders.

2.

This poem by Mary Oliver needs to be interpreted because there is more to glean from this work than is evident with the first read. “Walking Home from Oak-Head” has more behind it than just a beautiful description and reflection of one walking home in the picturesque winter snow. Mary Oliver believes that poetry is “a spiritual practice” and she is quoted saying that “Poetry is prayer.” I agree with her thoughts and a spiritual side to this piece of literature is evident as we take a closer look at Oliver’s writing.

3.

Beyond the idea that Oliver presents of a simple walk home through the snow, there is an underlying spiritual theme throughout the poem. There is a reference to “home” as her ultimate destination. This “home,” or end of the journey, could be seen as Heaven from a spiritual perspective. The completion of our earthly existence then brings us to Heaven. 

The someone that “loves [her] there,” could be interpreted to be Jesus. Truly, He is waiting for His children to arrive and deeply loves them as well. Since some are not there yet, but rather here on earth, they “stand in the same dark peace as any pine tree.” Those on planet Earth can experience the peace of God though there is darkness all around. The pine trees, then, could represent the people that are with us along the journey. 

Other spiritual references could include the wind representing the Holy Spirit, and the “I” representing Jesus as the One in whom we live and have our being. Lastly, part of Oliver’s poem mentions how the earth is faithful to continue. This is an example to us of how we also need to be faithful and persevere in our walk with the Lord.

4.

Now that I’ve given some possible interpretations, there is evidence that support these views. The first spiritual theme is “home” alluding to Heaven. The words, “Whenever I get home---whenever...” reminds us that we do not know the time that we are going home. The Lord may come back for us, or we may all live full, long lives. The line “Sooner or later I’ll be home” also reflects this thought. In addition, the portion that reads, “I’ll stand in the doorway... my shoulders covered with stars” is a key part. Choosing the word “stars” over other possibilities leans more towards the thought that “home” is referring to Heaven.

A piece to verify that the “somebody” could represent Jesus, is that if “home” is still considered Heaven, then Jesus is there right now in Heaven, at “home.” He is waiting for us in Heaven to arrive, and He does love us. Another possible reference to Jesus could be the “I” in the poem, according to these lines: “Wherever else I live--- in music, in words, in the fires of the heart, I abide just as deeply in this nameless, indivisible place, this world...” Jesus is everywhere. He is omnipresent and He is in everything: in all that we do and in all that we are. He abides in this world, in our hearts and is enthroned through the words we say or the songs we sing.

Next, the woman walking this journey personifies the pine trees in Oliver’s poem as she is standing there along with them, like she is one of the pine trees, as well. Oliver indicates this idea as she writes that “Meanwhile I stand in the same dark peace as any pine tree.” She is like a pine tree, just waiting there in the woods and being still in the dark peace.

There are also lines that testify to the wind symbolizing the Holy Spirit. Such as, “Or wander on slowly like the still unhurried wind.” The Holy Spirit’s presence is around us all the time: omnipresence. We should make sure that we don’t rush our time with the Holy Spirit, but let the moment be meaningful, so we don’t miss what the Holy Spirit is speaking to us. But when we do not have the relationship with God, we cannot utilize the power that He has for us. The power is around us, but we cannot engage it without a personal infilling of the Spirit. Yet, when we choose to link with God, He wields the power in us to affect others, and we give the glory to God. We receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on us. Then we are given gifts of the Holy Spirit to also use to show God’s power. Other lines with evidence of the Holy Spirit include: “Waiting, as for a gift, for the snow to begin which it does at first casually, then, irrepressibly.” Like in the New Testament, in Acts two, the Holy Spirit came “as of a mighty rushing wind” and as those in the upper room were filled, they were not able to contain themselves but began to speak in tongues as the Spirit enabled them. The Holy Spirit can be irrepressible, uncontrollable and unrestrained when we operate in Him and work together to glorify God.

Finally, the last piece of evidence supports the idea of a faithful earth, and is found toward the end of the poem: “This world... which is faithful beyond all our expressions of faith, our deepest prayers.” This line clearly states that the world is faithful more than we are, and the prayer within our hearts is to be faithful as well. Although the earth is “falling apart now,” our world continues to turn upon its axis and revolve around the sun to give us our days and nights. The earth has continued to be dependable to present the seasons and our normal days. We need to pray that we can be devoted and faithful in our relationship with God. Everyday, we should grow through spending time with the Lord to develop more faithfulness in our lives.

5.

As we take Mary Oliver’s poem and read it, we receive different messages. First off, “Walking Home from Oak-Head” gives a delightful description of a winter walk through the woods and will bring images and memories to those who have personally experienced this journey. Secondly, we can gain insight of how our spiritual journey should look like. Jesus is waiting for us in Heaven, but He is also in everything that we are. Although we may be in the darkness of this world, the Lord will give us peace. We need to take time with the Holy Spirit and let Him work in big ways in our lives. And lastly, we need to remain faithful to God, like He remains faithful to us, by letting the earth continue as it has been for many years, as an example of  consistency in our lives. Others may have more interpretations, but I believe that Oliver subtly puts this spiritual aspect into the poem for us to discover, and from which we may learn. As we are existing on this earth till the Lord brings us home, we are called to live for Him and to serve others. We can be challenged by Oliver’s words in this poem to improve our relationship with the Lord and walk the journey presented before us.

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"I am a Temple of the Holy Ghost"

I can see why some readers find Flannery O'Connor offensive. She writes very frankly with her depictions of the characters and the characters' thoughts as well. Yet, I suppose it is "revealing their humanity" as characters, giving them a normalcy to relate to. O'Connor's southern qualities and devout Catholicism can clearly be seen throughout this whole story. These two things were prominent within her life and have given shape to this story as she presents it.

O'Connor is very blatant and pointed with her descriptions and it is easy to envision the characters. They don't really sound like, "pretty people." "Her fat cheeks and the braces she had in her mouth... He was an eighteen-year-old boy who weighed two hundred and fifty pounds...and he had a round sweaty chest..." She doesn't play up the characters at all, but gives us a good picture in our minds. I am not sure what to think of these raw descriptions, but I am taking them as is and using them to understand and picture this short story. I think they are okay as I take these descriptions in context. And along with the descriptions of people, the scenery she describes is clear to imagine as well. One of my favourite passages was as O'Connor paints the image of the beacon light "searching the air as if it were hunting for the lost sun." I imagined myself as I have looked and seen the beacon lights and this little moment just captured me to think of my own experience.

Throughout the story, the child was never given a name, even though this twelve-year-old is a main character. I think the child could have been representing Flannery O'Connor herself at a point in her life. Taking a look at Catholicism and questioning the importance of it. Or maybe this kind of "story" happened to O'Connor, or she felt like this at times. For example, she may have had annoying cousins or friends a little older than she and believed that she was smarter than all of them. Maybe she placed herself in this story as the child. Like the headnote said, as "an intellectual in a rural environment, she quickly began to see the world as sometimes annoying, but often amusing." I feel like I see this in "the child." For the most part, I think that writers write about what they know because it is something they are knowledgable or passionate about and I think this could be the case here.

The child had some interesting thoughts that we as the readers see. Some random and seemingly out of place, such as when she talks about the world war and imagining herself dying as a martyr. But a line that stuck out to me that goes along with the title was, "I am a Temple of the Holy Ghost, she said to herself, and was pleased with the phrase. It made her feel as if somebody had given her a present." I felt  that when she thought this, it gave her a sense of identity and security in who she was. She had a purpose and feels valued and important. It is just this child-like innocence that we are seeing. She likes this feeling, and maybe doesn't understand why, but is enjoying this moment of receiving this "present." And in turn, she begins to see others as "a Temple of the Holy Ghost too."
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Ursula LeGuin's "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas"

After I read this short story for the first time, I had to take a break before I came back to it. I walked away from it kind of baffled and unsure what to think of it. So then I came back and reread it again and again, and I still don't really understand what LeGuin is saying. "Given a description such as this one tends to make certain assumptions." After I read this, I thought, "I'm not even sure what to assume." I was pretty lost.

This could be way off, but it's the big picture of what I gleaned from this story. I feel like Omelas, and the people, and the child are all a representative of something. The first thing I thought of was that Omelas is a place of our own imagination, a perfect world that we would want to live in and make it however we desire. Like the line says, "As you like it." But as I read through it again, I thought that Omelas was representing America, and where the child was would be Africa. The child could be a representative of the starving children there. And we Americans, sometimes go on missions trips and other things to try and help them, but our impact is only on a small scale. Some are touched to where they just cry while others are more angry and frustrated with how they are forced to live, so cut off from the rest of the world in their own place. Yet others maybe feel called to reach these people. That is why they leave America. They may become missionaries and go to other countries to help those in need. In America, we are so blessed beyond belief. We want to keep our "happiness" and not sacrifice anything else to have the things that we want. But if we do go and see the "child" and we are touched, we feel guilty, but don't want to feel guilty for having all the things that we do have.

Also, there were many lines that I liked and didn't fully understand. Like this passage, "Their tears at the bitter injustice dry... the true source of the splendor of their lives... They know compassion." I think that part of this is saying that those who have seen the child in the room, they become aware that they do not have true freedom and don't take for granted the happiness they have. They have an understanding of the hurting and feel something inside that knows the injustice this child faces.

This thought provoking story has left me quite bewildered. Again, who knows if any of this is right, but it was my interpretation and what spoke to me when I read this piece.

As a last note, when LeGuin mentions that "each one goes alone," I think it could mean we all have to make our own personal decisions of what we are going to do and how we are going to live.
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Field Trip-Circle B Bar Reserve with Hass

I absolutely loved the field trip to Circle B Bar Reserve. I love field trips in general, but I really enjoyed this one. I wasn't completely sure what to expect, but the area was pretty big and so beautiful. It was another chance to slow down and let myself just become a part of nature. I was actually able to hear the creatures and their calls without even hearing the sounds of motors. There was this sense of silence, although it wasn't silent. Maybe it was more of a sense of peace, and things being as they should. It was amazing. All I heard was natural life. I saw an alligator, about two or three feet long, whom I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't stopped to pay attention. There was also this one kind of annoying bird who just kept squawking, and wouldn't quit. But as I thought about it, where else am I going to hear this? Is this creature's voice really going to be heard outside of this place?

Being told that this place was restored to what it was before, in the 1940s, I believe, it made me think about Hass' line that "the earth needs a dream of restoration." This is the example that we can follow; it can be done! Those dedicated to Circle B have brought it back to life. The marshes are back so the animals have come back as well. There is hope for restoration, things can be restored. It's not impossible for certain things and it will take time. As those at Circle B worked hard they were able to do something good for the environment. And we had the opportunity to enjoy it.

As we were talking about the statistics of where our environment is today, it broke my heart. Our world is in dire need of help. Like Professor Corrigan said, we do have an issue of consumption, and unfortunately, our world is paying the price. Species of plants and animals are becoming extinct more rapidly, we are losing topsoil and waste keeps piling up. I think one of the problems is that people are not even aware of the statistics. We know that our world is bad, and deforestation is terrible, but truly, these problems are affecting us, but not enough to where we become effective to do anything about it. We need a big wake up call so we can gather the support we need and restore our world because it is God's beautiful creation that He made for us to live in. His glory and wonder cannot be seen if we continue to ruin our world, but we can bring back the beauty He created for it to be seen and wondered at.
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"A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings"

Well, the title of this piece really says it all. This short story is about an old man who has wings. He is a main character.

It was kind of random how this old guy just shows up but the people don't seem too mystified or respectful. They think they know about this "angel," but they don't. It's a strange little story of how this little town becomes a main attraction because of this supernatural creature showing up, and then his spotlight is taken by another strange creature that is new and fascinating.

I think that a theme of this story is about how we treat others, primarily when they are different from us. When this old man with big wings lands in a family's yard, the couple goes to the "wise neighbor woman" to get advice about the angel, and the woman says to club this "angel" to death (96). Now, to me, that doesn't seem to be the proper thing to do to anyone, angel or no angel. This neighbor didn't know the old man, but maybe she mentioned this suggestion because she was scared and didn't know what else to do and didn't know what the old man would do.
So the couple doesn't kill the man with wings. Instead, they lock this poor, dirty decrepit man into their chicken coop. Really? "Let's put the guest in the chicken coop." No, let's not. But then again, this was written quite a few years ago, and I assume it was written for that current time period. And the setting may be in Colombia, which is Gabriel Garcia Marquez's birth country. So maybe back in the day in Colombia it was acceptable. But I'm not too impressed or happy about it.
And then when the whole town found out, oh goodness! They were "having fun with the angel, without the slightest reverence, tossing him things to eat through the openings in the wire as if he weren't a supernatural creature but a circus animal" (97). Then, after that, these people want to make the old man a "mayor of the world" or "promoted to the high rank of five-star general" or maybe he could "take charge of the universe" (97). The people treat the old man with wings like a circus animal and no respect, yet they want to place him in high authority. So they will exalt him without respect? The people want to assume they know everything, and I think this represents us. We try to explain the things that we don't completely understand because we want to know. We are curious and hungry for information. That is, interesting information.
The family that charges money to see the "angel," they are like all of us, greedy and wanting to be successful, so we make money off what we can, unconcerned with the method, like if people are exploited.
Then, a new attraction comes along, a girl who was turned into a spider the size of a ram. And when this new supernatural thing came along, the focus was on that. The angel wasn't a hot item anymore. Another creature replaced him. We, as people, do this a lot. We will go through different fashions and trends that people follow. We like mainstream music and popular TV shows. We always crave the next best thing to come along to fulfill the desires of want in our lives. It is kind of sad. Jesus isn't our focus, but new, cool things in this world are instead.

This matters to us because we need to learn how to respect others, especially those who are different from us. We need to treat them with kindness and respect, just like what we like to receive. If it's something "good" we place it on a pedestal. But if it's "bad" or we are unsure, we show disrespect and don't care as much.
We also maybe need to cut on the "latest-and-greatest" things so that we don't get caught up in that, but rather focus our attention on Jesus who deserves it.

As a side note, this was a part that I found intriguing. When the woman, Elisenda, watches the old man finally fly away, she was relieved that "he was no longer an annoyance in her life but an imaginary dot on the horizon of the sea" (101). This "angel" had been used by this couple. He unintentionally helped them become rich, and the woman wasn't even grateful for the "help" he gave. She thought the old man was annoying.
This also could be a story of how we treat older people now. We don't show them the respect that they deserve. We try to squeeze everything out of them at as little inconvenience to us. We only want the benefit. And that is unfortunately how our society is changing today.

This short story could have many themes behind it, but those were my thoughts on Marquez's story.
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"State of the Planet"

I found Robert Hass' piece of poetry very interesting. It was story-like, talking about this little girl, then a one-sided conversation with Lucretius happens. He's not really talking to him, but rather talking to us, the readers of this poem.

In the beginning, I liked when Hass wrote, "Poetry should be able to comprehend the earth. / To set aside from time to time its natural idioms / Of ardor and revulsion..." (50). I think that Hass is trying to say that when we write poetry about the earth and its beauty, the poem should help us understand more in a clearer way than before. And the last part could mean that we don't always need some fancy language, but the description can be raw from whatever we think, not just being passionate or disgusted by our earth. We can put more into the poems to help others understand our point of view.

Another few lines that caught my attention were this: "It must be a gift of evolution that humans / Can't sustain wonder. We'd never have gotten up / From our knees if we could" (51). And then it describes things that humans have done with nature to create other types of beauty. At first, I thought, "How could not really appreciating 'wonder' be a gift?" It could be more of a curse because we forget so easily, but then again, we can always be reminded of the beauty and wonder around us because it is there (for now). I guess that this could be a gift, like I said before, that we can take the beauty around us, and make something else beautiful, such as earrings and make-up and weapons. So nature can have more than one purpose for beauty. Humans can be creative in that way, trying to remake something already beautiful. But maybe this takes away from the beautiful things that God already created in nature, and we, created by God, think we can do better than the Creator Himself. But this probably isn't the full intention behind the things that humans make to create a "manufactured beauty." And I totally agree though that we "humans / Can't sustain wonder." Nature around us does affect us and move us at times when we slow down and choose to be still in the nature around us. Then we are reminded.

These are the last few lines that caused me to ponder their meaning: "So easy, in imagination, to tell the story backward, / Because the earth needs a dream of restoration-- / She dances and the birds just keep arriving / Thousands of them, immense arctic flocks, her teeming life" (56). I am not sure why "in imagination" it is easy "to tell the story backward" as opposed to telling the story not in imagination. I think when Hass writes "to tell the story backward," he is thinking that we start the "story" from where we are at now, and then rewind to capture everything else and are then reminded of how things were before the destruction of the ozone layer and other things. We can jog our memory, thinking of the past and how things were once good, and we want that back now. Our earth needs "restoration" from the devastation that we humans have caused with our industrious selves. Then the last part could be an example of how our world can be restored. Venus, Roman goddess of love, beauty, fertility and prosperity, could maybe restore the earth and bring "her teeming life." Or, it could just mean that "she," the earth, keeps on spinning, "danc[ing]" and continues teem with life.

I think that overall, Hass has many beautiful descriptions that make the places he mentions come alive even though I have never been there. It allows my mind to create and picture based on Hass' words and imagine the beauty that he describes. He weaves this story of this girl and his conversation with Lucretius smoothly throughout this whole poem. And I think that this brings awareness to us, and reminds us of how we have "quite accidentally" ruined our earth from the time it began and bring to mind the beauty that does still exist in our world today (49).
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Spiritual Practice in Poetry: Mary Oliver's and My Own

I read through Mary Oliver's poems, and enjoyed them. Then I read Professor Corrigan's notes about spiritual practice and how that is placed into poetry. Then I read the poems again with a new light.

I enjoyed all of Oliver's poems, but the one that stood out to me was "Walking Home from Oak-Head." Oliver gives lovely descriptions of the winter weather. I could picture the things she described and it reminded me of home. I miss the winter weather and being in the snow and walking around in its beauty. But after reading that Oliver saw poetry as a spiritual practice, I looked beyond the literal picture of winter I had and dug for something deeper.

The title, "Walking Home from Oak-Head" is not just a journey through the woods, but rather our spiritual journey and how heaven is real. When Oliver mentions "home," she is not talking about a cottage in the woods, but our eternal home, Heaven. After some thought, these lines throughout this poem had new meaning for me. Such as: "or wander on slowly / like the still unhurried wind, / waiting, / as for a gift, / for the snow to begin / which it does / at first casually, / then, irrepressibly." I think that these lines are talking about the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit can be like a wind around us; a presence that surrounds us. Also, there are the gifts of the Holy Spirit, and is a comfort to us. Or sometimes we wait for the evidence of speaking in tongues, by the Holy Spirit. And then when the Holy Spirit comes it's nice, but when we continue to engage in the presence, then the Holy Spirit comes more irrepressibly. We can't contain the Holy Spirit inside of us, but it all has to flow out and just become this presence around us.

When I first looked at this poem literally, it had a nice little story that gave me pretty pictures in my head. But reading through the text and the real meaning behind Oliver's words gave me an understanding of this "spiritual practice." It's so much deeper than the first time I read it. Oliver's writing is honestly a talent that she has been given, to weave in this spirituality so cleverly.

Lastly, the line "which is faithful beyond all our expressions of faith, / our deepest prayers" was powerful to me when I didn't even know what it really meant. But through this process, the answer to who or what is faithful, is simply Jesus. He is the one who is faithful, and He is my deepest prayer. I not only want Him to be in my life, but I need Him. He is my everything and I want to be like Him in all that I do.

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I went to Lake Bonny Park for this field trip, and I stayed there for at least 45 minutes. And my little poem was inspired by my time spent there.

The Things We Don't See

Every creature has its place in society,

Growing, spinning, crawling, flying, sitting.

This society is not for humans.

The trees, the grass, the water: all natural.

Through the calls, whispers and everyday

Chatter of this society,

Heard so near are the unnatural lives of motors,

Moving at a different pace.

How intricate and delicate are the webs spun.

Multitudes of complex and beautiful masterpieces,

Shimmering in the sunlight.

These creatures, living a life to catch others.

Not only catching, but living as a connector:

One who bridges the gap.

From one side to the other.

Staying strong.

Making as many ties as possible.

How often do we stop and think of the sparrow?

The one that God sees?

He watches over all the little things,

The little ones who struggle with just

Simple things.

We jump around, looking for the best position,

The best place to be.

Yet being just with the Creator is enough.

Being with Him and recognizing His voice

And His creation.

Yes, His works are wonderful, I know that

Full well.

Field Trip! AFI

The visit to AFI was incredible! It was a lot of fun learning about AFI and the programs they run there, as well as interacting with the clients that attend this facility. For me, being at AFI, and seeing the people there, it really brought the characters in The Boys Next Door to life. I saw the different levels of these high-functioning disabled adults, and it reminded me of characters like Arnold and Lucien. They had different levels of ability. When we were reading in groups, there were three clients who all read at different levels. Neal, the first one to read out loud, was a very good reader. He knew a lot of words, needed help with a few, but I think an overall good reader. Kevin read next. He basically just ended up reading the words that he knew out loud while he moved his finger across the line. Lastly, Phillip read. He didn't read out loud. Instead, he read silently, I think, while tracking the words with his finger. I don't know if he does or doesn't read out loud, or whether he was just shy. It reminded me that everyone is unique in the way we do things.

I think that reading the essay by Fettke before going on this field trip made me aware of myself and how I treat others. I tried to love on the clients and get to know them. It was neat to see how the clients interacted with each other and me. They are people who do things like I do. One of the clients, Michael, while we were having our break was one the phone. He had his cell phone out and told us he was talking to his girlfriend. These people are in this community together. Joking around with each other, and some were calling others crazy. I think that the clients just enjoyed being talked to and making new friends with us students. I was a little nervous at first, cause I wasn't sure of what topics to bring up, but Vanessa and I were chatting with a big group of people and learned their names and joked around with them. They were so much fun.

Going to AFI I guess gives me more of a visual for all of the characters and what they do. I think Tom Griffin did a wonderful job with The Boys Next Door in his depiction of the high-functioning disabled and how they live life.
As I reread part of the text when Jack gets a new job and tells the others at the party and the others are kind of upset and react in different ways, I thought about how the clients would feel if some of the workers had to tell them they were going to a new job. I'm sure that everyone has a relationship with all the staff so it would be heartbreaking for the clients. Change can be hard. Accepting people is one thing. Letting them go is another. After being with and seeing someone many times a week, and then the routine changes, it may become difficult for some clients. I don't know how deep the attachment goes, and how the others workers deal with the situations, but I'm sure they work through it. Change is a part of our lives.
Honestly, going to AFI was one of the best field trips. I think reading the play and essay gave me a different perspective than I may have had if I went there without any of the texts beforehand. This brought awareness to me about what was happening in the community that I wouldn't have known about otherwise. I'm so glad that I was able to be a part of their community, even just for a little bit.
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Created In "Imago Dei"

Why?

We're all created in God's image.
God says that we belong to Him.
As Christians we should all be accepting.
But why is it so hard?

We all have our own quirks
And things that we do uniquely.
Yet those who are different we judge so harshly.
But why do we do this?

You may say, "I love God"
But don't show it through actions.
If God loves us no matter what
Why can't we do the same for others?

"Normal" is a word we use.
It describes situations, things and people.
"I would like to propose defining 'normal'
As simply being created in God's image" (1).


I wrote this little poem as part of my response this reading, by Steven M. Fettke, and as a question to those who consider themselves Christians. These were my thoughts: How are we really responding to others around us? Are we showing love and acceptance? Why do we accept or reject others?

This piece of work left me questioning my own actions and perceptions of those who are disabled and how I should look at them through a Christian perspective. Not the perspective of the Church nowadays, but what should be done as a Christian. God showed His love for us by sending His only son to die on the cross for us while we were still sinners (Romans 5:8). He shows us how to love. Now that we know how to love, we are supposed to show this kind of love to everyone, disabled or not.

But why don't we love others? Here are some reasons that I thought of:

1) We are afraid of opening ourselves up because we are afraid of rejection. We all desire to be loved by others. When we extend our love to others, the hope is that this action would be reciprocated by the other party. But when we do not receive love back, there is a greater chance of not opening ourselves up again. This leads to my second thought.
2) We have been rejected before when we tried to love and are more concerned with guarding our own hearts and emotions. We don't want to experience more heartache because it's not fun at all.
The force behind these reasonings is that, to put it in simple terms, we are selfish people. We don't want to give ourselves away and are more concerned with the benefits we receive rather than being willing to give.


The last line in my poem comes from the actual reading. I liked so much, and I thought it was appropriate to put it in. God created us in His image. God is perfect. So the way He made us is perfectly how He wanted us. God made us to be used for His glory, and He does this through different ways. So since we are made to be like Him, we should start acting like Him as well. We can start by loving and accepting others, no matter what. Whether a person has a disability or not, we are all "normal"-- created in God's image (1). It may not seem easy to accept and love others who may have a disability, but God has called us to love one another (Leviticus 19:18). We are all people, created by God, in His image, who just need to be loved.
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Forever Plaid

I went to Forever Plaid and stayed through the whole musical. The student who played "Frankie," Matthew Rich, is actually in my sociology class, and is in my group for a presentation we have to do. It was different to see him playing a role on the stage, and he did a very good job.

I thought that this was such a cute musical! It was so entertaining. When I went with my friend Etta, on Thursday night, October 11, there were quite a few older folks that attended as well. Since the story had a lot of hits from the 1950s, I think that those who were older appreciated these songs even more than I did. It probably brought back memories for them of when they were younger. They were even some of the first people to give them a standing ovation at the end. The theater was not full, but still, we have a fairly interactive audience.

One of my favourite things was the interaction with the audience: the holding of lights, signing the "Book of Plaid," singing the Caribbean Plaid along with them, and watching an audience member play "Heart and Soul" along with the Plaids. I have never seen a musical that caused the audience to be so involved. It was so enjoyable.

I think some of my favourite songs were, "The Catering Drill/She Loves You," "Caribbean Plaid," and "Heart and Soul." The four guys were so funny and really hammed up their characters. I think it was amazing only having six total guys play the music, sing and act the whole thing. The set was fairly simple as well, but it was just enough. All the costumes and props made up for everything else. They kept it lively and very engrossing. My expectations were exceeded since I wasn't sure what to expect anyway. I would recommend this musical to everyone and would love to see it performed again!
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Act II: The Boys Next Door

I won't lie (it's a good thing to be truthful). I was pretty excited to finish the rest of this play to see the endings for each of the characters.

One of the parts that made me crack up was when Jack comes in with his cut finger and Arnold has to talk to him about the rugs. 

ARNOLD. Where's Jack? I saw his car. I've got to have a talk with him. This is very important.

LUCIEN. In the bathroom.

ARNOLD. This can't wait. This is crucial. (Calling in to the bathroom.) Excuse me, Jack, but we have to have a discussion!

JACK. (Off, in the bathroom.) I'll be right out, Arnold. Hold your horses.

ARNOLD. Hold my horses?

LUCIEN. You got horses?

ARNOLD. He must have me confused with someone else. I don't have any horses. (Calling into the bathroom.) It's me Arnold!

LUCIEN. (Yelling to the door.) We got no trees! (37)

Jack uses a common idiom that most of us recognize. He's telling Arnold to wait until he finishes. But because the word "horses" is thrown in there, Arnold gets confused, thinking that Jack is talking about real horses. Arnold knows he doesn't have real horses, so Arnold thinks that Jack is confused. Lucien is on the same page with Arnold. They don't know what "hold your horses" means. I thought it was just kind of funny since they thought Jack was talking about real horses.

We can see a change in Barry through his emotions and when he talks about people. There is a point where he is frustrated with Norman, and even uses sarcasm to tell Jack not to be sarcastic.

BARRY. Be sarcastic, Jack. That helps. Sure. That helps the situation. Sure. (40)

But as the scene goes on, Barry then is talking to Lucien about his time at an institution. There was a fellow, Wally, that died and they through away a box, which was the only thing that belonged to him. I think Barry feels that the attendants were careless. They didn't really care that Wally died, but that he was just another one that went. Barry feels so strongly about this that he ends up breaking down and crying. Lucien goes over and pats his head to comfort Barry (43). We can see two different sides of Barry and how he can feel toward others. He has emotions, concerns and thoughts like me. There is something in all of us that wants people to care. And when there are those who don't care, we are hurt. Even though Barry was frustrated with Norman earlier, Barry does have compassion inside of him and has a history of hurts.

There is another dance scene where Sheila and Norman are talking to each other and another character is introduced. Her name is Clara and she is retarded and kind of speaks with a growl. Clara's character reminded me of sophomore year in high school. During our study hall time, I worked with some of the mentally disabled students. There was a girl named Caitlyn who was similar to Clara. She didn't really talk, but growled, and usually had something in her hands that she would fiddle with. It was at times difficult to work with her and other students. It took a lot of patience and gave me an understanding of what the special education teachers had to do all day, and the time and energy that is spent with these people. A whole slew of memories came flooding back through reading this scene. It's very real to me.

I think my favourite line in this play would be when Lucien says to the audience, "I am here to remind the species of the species" (52). Lucien is there to remind people like me of him. He goes on to say that "without [him], without [his] shattered crippled brain, [we] will never again be frightened by what [we] might have become. Or indeed, by what [our] future might make [us]" (52). I think that this means that we should, I guess, be grateful for who we are. Or maybe that we could be worse off, so we should be grateful that we are more "normal." We have different chances than those who are mentally handicapped. I think that most of the time we live in different worlds. There are only a few that venture into their "world" and get to know them and work with them. People like Jack. Living in both "worlds." I thought that Lucien's little monologue was captivating. It helped me understand more about Lucien as a character and what I am sure really happens with those who are mentally disabled. "I am here to remind the species of the species" (52).

A simple play full of complexities and questions.
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Dealing With "The Boys Next Door"

Starting out reading this play, you learn about the first character, Arnold, and you meet the other characters gradually. You begin to understand them through what they say, how they react and how that lines up with Jack's description of them. The play just jumps right into the characters, and you have to interpret for yourself who these characters are before we are told about them.

I felt that in this first act, there were many different interactions that were shown between the mentally handicapped and non-mentally handicapped in combinations. The first situation shown is between Arnold and Lucien in the apartment. Their conversation tends to shift rapidly from one subject to another, or even refer back to something that already happened before and they just keep repeating it. Here's an example:
LUCIEN. Lucien P. Smith.
ARNOLD. Libraries have that funny smell.
LUCIEN. It smells like books.
ARNOLD. That's it. Books. They smell like books.
LUCIEN. (Examining the lettuce.) Bunnies like lettuce.
ARNOLD. Yes, they constantly do. (With suspicion.) Do you have a bunny?
LUCIEN. You got a bunny hid?
ARNOLD. No, really, Lucien, you never mentioned a bunny before. This concerns me a little. I mean, we're friends and all, and you've never said nothing about a bunny.
LUCIEN. It's got my name. Lucien P. Smith. (Indicating the books.) You read them. (8)
There is a tangent about bunnies in the middle there and it seems insignificant to me, but to Arnold, it's a big concern. I don't know for sure, but I'm assuming that this play captures a reality of conversations between those who are mentally handicapped.

Another scene between characters is one of the mentally handicapped characters with a non-mentally handicapped one: Barry and Mr. Hedges.
BARRY. I'll tell you one of the basic problems of golf. Maybe the basic problem of golf. Golf is a game. It's just a game Mr. Hodges, just a game.
MR. HEDGES. Hedges.
BARRY. It's too early to worry about that. Besides, I don't know of more than two or three courses with a serious hedge hazard. Sure, traps. Sure, thick rough. Sure. But hedges. That's rare.
MR. HEDGES. My name is Hedges. My name is John Hedges. (12-13)
The scene continues on and Mr. Hedges becomes frustrated with Barry because he is not getting his name right, and ends up quitting the golf lesson. People can become so easily frustrated with others because they have different levels of patience. I don't think that Mr. Hedges understood that Barry was mentally handicapped, but if he did, I wonder, would he have had more compassion and grace? Or would he have signed up for the lesson at all? I think that knowing things about people can affect how we treat others, whether good or badly. We find out that at a certain super market, the manager takes advantage of Arnold when he is buying stuff. They are teasing him, and probably get a laugh out of what he does and his quirkiness. They have an understanding of Arnold, but don't have real concern for him at all. I think this is how many people are. We may understand a situation or a person, but we either shy away and don't involve ourselves, or we try to get something out of it, like a good laugh at the expense of others. There is a lack of sensitivity in our culture today, or maybe that's just what I've seen. Maybe there's compassionate people that I've missed and I've only seen the one side. I'm sure this is just as real today as it could have been back when this play was written.

We see yet another interaction of characters: Mrs. Fremus and Barry.
BARRY. I couldn't begin to figure it. He just quit... I computed it. That's before expenses. (Dawns on him.) I still have to buy clubs yet.
MRS. FREMUS. You don't need gloves in the sumer, Barry.
BARRY. (Highly agitated.) "Clubs!" I said. Clubs! (17-18)
There is a little miscommunication here because Mrs. Fremus is deaf, so probably reads lips, and that's how she can "know" what's going on. But even though she can read lips, it's a tough thing to rely on, and that's why she gets the words mixed up. But the characters still like to go and talk to her because she is giving them the time of day to just communicate in the way that she can. And I'm sure she doesn't mind the company at times because she is a widow. It's probably somewhat nice for each party.

I think that Jack is in a tough spot. He has been supervising 17 mentally handicapped men for eight months. As we see, Jack sometimes uses sarcasm and asides to the  audience to display his thoughts and feelings. At one point, Jack actually explodes at Arnold because he is so stressed out. He is trying to introduce these men into the mainstream society and live normally. I can't imagine the patience and time that it takes to try and teach the characters. I don't know if Jack has other people working on a similar project, or an organization that he works for that pays him to supervise them, but it seems like Jack doesn't express his true feelings to anyone. There is just so much anger, frustration and maybe others things that contribute besides just dealing with these men. I think his divorce from his ex-wife is still plaguing him a little, and who knows if he has any real friends. Jack has quite a full plate.
I think we sometimes forget the toll that our jobs can take on us. We invest so much time, but sometimes see not so many results, or feel like we're getting no where.

This play is not what I expected at all. I didn't know what to expect coming into it actually, but it is rather intriguing and I am ready to read the second act.
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Figtrees, Cuzco and Other Words

Naomi Shihab Nye writes poems like I've never seen before. She uses stories that seem to stem from real-life situations that she has faced or seen, and then puts them in a light to be appreciated. Sometimes we forget about the little things that make up our lives, and even the little moments that give us pleasure. We may forget, but Nye helps us remember and reflect.

After I read "My Father and the Figtree," I thought it was such a cute little poem of how Naomi Shihab Nye remembers such a funny quirk about her father. She recalls his love of figtrees from a very young age. I especially liked when she mentioned that he used to add figtrees into stories. "In the evening he sat by my beds weaving folktales like vivid little scarves" (2). I really enjoyed this imagery about weaving folktales like scarves. Making a scarf can be fairly intricate, and something beautiful. The word "vivid" makes it seem like something just pops out, and bright. This poem reminded me of my dad reading or telling stories to my siblings and I when we were little. I think that most everyone can think of something in their life that they love so much, whether it be food or not, that they think is best above everything else. The father knows what a good fig is like, and probably wants others to experience the joy that he finds in this fruit. The father is so giddy, and almost childish, as he writes a song about his figtree in the end. I don't think there is anything else that gives him so much pleasure. Nye mentions that it is an "assurance of a world that was always his own" (2).

Another poem that I enjoyed was "Coming into Cuzco." I didn't even know what Cuzco was before I read this piece, and then looked it up as well. Apparently, it's a fairly well known tourist destination in Peru. And Nye is writing about an experience on the way there. Whether it's actually her or not, I don't know, but I read it that way. The first half of the poem was kind of sad to me. The first thing I noticed that revealed a sadness was when the author says, "I was a broken jug, nothing could fill me" (4). I didn't really see anything that said why this was, or a reason to be so empty. Regardless, the person felt an emptiness. As she goes about to the airport, she notices people that are living a routine life with "their new alpaca sweaters" and "how easily [they] joined the ticket line, how easily [they] mentioned coffee" (4). But while this is happening, who I think is Nye, is noticing "an old man with white hair who had just stepped off the plane followed by a casket" (4).
Sometimes we can be so easily involved in our own little world with the people around us and the things that we see as important, not even taking notice of others. We tend to live our lives with ourselves in the center of our universe. What if we stopped to take a look at others around us? What if we notice someone who is looking sad? What if this person is lonely and going through a hard time. As Christians, we need to remove ourselves from the center, put Jesus first and then others. Lastly, we deal with ourselves. Maybe if we paid attention to others we could find more opportunities to witness and pray with others who are needing some comfort through a hard time. I am putting this as a challenge to myself, to pay more attention to others and not live so routinely, but to break out of my norm at times to reach out to those around me.
Back to the poem. The person that I believe is Nye, then begins to think about her life in the future, and how it would feel "to be riding next to the body of the one you have loved" (4). She sympathizes with the old man and feels the heartbreak. But then comes the changing point when she arrives. She still feels this heavy weight on her when she boards a bus. And some of the simple things in life remind her that there is happiness. First, a baby on the bus shouts "Vamos! every time the bus paused" and the narrator laughs a little, even though it seems foreign at the moment. Then a young girl with flowers hands Nye "one perfect pink rose, because [they] had noticed each other, and that was all" (4). Just a simple acknowledgement can lead to other moments that can make our day. Something like this, that is so simple can change our attitudes and remind us that "it should not be so difficult to be happy in this world" (4).
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Cemetery Reflection

I went to the Lakeview, Roselawn and Tiger Flowers cemetery complex for this fieldtrip, and I stayed there for at least 40 minutes. When I first walked into the cemetery, some of the first tombstones were of those who had died at young ages. One person died when they were 20, and another was a child that lived only to the age of 10. This moved me to think of the families who dealt with these losses of those who were so young. It's really heartbreaking. The mood in general was solemn because it was a cemetery, but also the weather conveyed the same mood since it was grey and cloudy when I happened to go. It was a good time to reflect on others and their losses and think about the future for me.

As I reflected on passages where Lewis felt like he feels that he has been cut off and separated, and he has to deal with this suffering, it made me think about my future. I love my parents and am close with them. I don't really know how I'm going to respond with grief if something like this happened to either of my parents. Although death is a part of the end of life, it stills affects those living. And with my future husband, if he dies before me, how will I deal with my grief? What will my grieving process be? I won't really know until that time comes.

In the last two chapters of A Grief Observed, there is a shift that takes place in C.S. Lewis. We start seeing the logical side of Lewis in the middle of chapter three. He wants to start actually acting based on thinking rather than his feelings. We can especially see the difference when he says that "[his] heart was lighter than it had been for many weeks" (44). Lewis himself is recognizing a change that has taken place. He is not as gloomy as he had been. Even before this happens, there seems to be a little humor that he places in there, though probably unintentionally, but I found some statements amusing.

After this stated change, Lewis begins to see that when he doesn't mourn over H. as much, he remembers her best (44). He also says that "he remembers her better because he has partly got over it" (45). Lewis compares this also with the statement that "you can't see anything properly while your eyes are blurred with tears" (45). This came across perfectly clear to me. He is finally thinking and writing more rationally. He has progressed from an earlier stage of more complaining and blaming grief to a realization that he cannot mourn her forever, because then he will never remember her properly. The tears have to stop for him to see clearly.

Another passage that caught my attention was when Lewis mentioned that, "God [had] not been trying an experiment on [his] faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was [Lewis] who didn't" (52). I feel like these few sentences show Lewis' maturity in Christianity. Even though there were moments where Lewis felt like the door was slammed in his face, he is realizing that there was a process that God was taking him through. This experience of loss was for Lewis to really see his faith and love put on the line to know where he stands. God was revealing what He already knew to Lewis to grow him.

One of my favorite moments that Lewis wrote was, "If you're approaching Him not as the goal but as a road, not as the end but as a means, you're not really approaching Him at all" (68). This really made me pause for a minute or two as I thought about my faith and how I approach God. I rechecked my intentions to see whether they were pure and whether I am really approaching God for God. It's a really powerful line.

I think that Lewis comes to two big conclusions. One is that he will always love H. and will feel the hurt and grieve at times for her come back around again and again. It is just like his comparison of the amputee who still feels some of the pain and again comes back to the fact that his leg is cut off. It will never be forgotten. Two is that Lewis needs to continue to rely on God. He needs God. I think after this experience and not turning completely away from God, Lewis will always remain faithful to God.

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A Grief Observed and Discussed

C.S. Lewis' writing in "A Grief Observed" is very raw. Some thoughts seem to pop up out of nowhere as he journals his thoughts and handles the loss of his wife. It reminds me of how I journal, and as things come into my head I write them down. In this book, C.S. Lewis is baring his grief through writing.

In the beginning of this book, I felt that C.S. Lewis was relatable to Sanjeev from "This Blessed House." Lewis says that, "[l]ove is not the whole of a man's life. I was happy before I ever met H." (4). Lewis is stating that he was living life just fine before he loved H. He had a life before and things that he enjoyed that occupied his time. This reminded me of Sanjeev because it is mentioned in "This Blessed House" as Sanjeev reflects about college, how he was quite fond of walking across the Massachusetts Avenue Bridge, going to his favorite Indian restaurant and then writing out his homework again (138). As he reminisces about this period in his life, we can gather that Sanjeev rather enjoyed that period. Sanjeev had a life before Twinkle came in and they got married. He was a successful man, now trying to figure out love, just like Lewis.

As I continued to read through the text, I was reminded of another previously read piece: Raymond Carver's "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love." In the two chapters I read, I felt that this expression of Lewis' grief and grieving process could have been renamed to "What We Talk About When We Talk About Grief." In Carver's short story, four friends are discussing the topic of love, the different kinds and the truest examples. Lewis is writing from his heart and talking with himself about what he is feeling during this grieving process. He is talking about his feelings and grieving in his own way. He is just being honest about his sadness, anger, doubts and confusion about life without his wife. We all mourn in different ways, but I am sure that all of us face the similar doubts, anger, sadness and confusion that Lewis is letting us see as he works through this tragedy in his life.

No one really likes to watch as people mourn another person. It's sad when another person, especially someone you are well acquainted with, passes away. There is hurt and frustration to be dealt with at times. As I read this piece by Lewis, I cannot empathize with his loss, but only sympathize, which still makes me sad. I can't imagine his thoughts, even though he writes down a portion of them. He contemplates his trust in God, many times about whether God is good or not, or whether He is there in our times of crisis. There are so many emotions that are overwhelming him. He's not the same since H. died. For those reading this book who have lost loved ones, I am sure that they can relate better to these kinds of feelings and work through the grieving process with C.S. Lewis in this piece of literature.
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The "Garden of Eden" Becomes A Desolate Wilderness

I chose to draw this picture from the passage that reads, "A fire consumes before them And behind them a flame burns, The land is like the garden of Eden before them But a desolate wilderness behind them."

So this is my literal drawing and representation of the beautiful garden about to be consumed and destroyed like the rest. While painting this, the image became even more vivid than before.

Painting Pictures with Pethuel's Son

There were so many descriptions and images that I could pick from that it was hard to choose! Yet one of the images that really stuck out to me was in chapter two, The Terrible Visitation. It starts off with this fire that is before them, and then a flame is burning behind them as well. "The land is like the garden of Eden before them, But a desolate wilderness behind them, And nothing at all escapes them."
This section helps me picture how the land is before and after the locusts come. There is this lush, beautiful land, compared to the garden of Eden. It's perfect in a sense, and then the locusts come. And when these creatures are through with there destruction, there is nothing that is left alive. The locusts are like a forest fire that wipes out anything and everything that is there. Any life that once existed is now gone.

Then, there is a section with another description of the sound of the locusts.
"With a noise as of chariots They leap on the tops of the mountains, Like the crackling of a flame of fire consuming the stubble, Like a mighty people arranged for battle." The locusts not only destroy everything, but they have a terrifying sound. The "noise as of chariots" is thunderous, like there are many in number, booming and very ominous. The locusts come with such a powerful presence. "Like the crackling of a flame of fire" reminds me of actually being around a fire as the wood is crackling because the fire is consuming the wood. These locusts are just devouring and consuming everything. It wouldn't be a pretty noise, hearing the locusts consume everything around you.

In the beginning, as the locusts make their entrance, there is another piece of imagery that caught my attention. "It has made my vine a waste And my fig tree splinters. It has stripped them bare and cast them away; Their branches have become white." This fig tree was once something of use and value. It had a purpose. But now it is no longer worth anything. It is dead, bare. It's amazing how something can be full of life, then something happens and it can no longer produce anything, but can only give way to death. It's sad to see something beautiful go to waste.

There is a lot of wailing and mourning mentioned throughout Joel that gives this sad and depressing mood. The land, beasts, priests, vinedressers and ministers are mourning because of this devastation. I can just hear and feel the sadness. I don't know exactly what would be said, or if there would even be crying involved. I imagine crying, but, in general, a downcast look on everyone's face.

To contrast this death and devastation, there is also life shown too. There is rain that the Lord pours down. Rain is life giving. Plants need it to survive. We need water to survive as well. And there is a promise given that "The threshing floors will be full of grain, And the vats will overflow with the new wine and oil." God is restoring the things that were taken away and destroyed. Even though He sent the locusts to destroy, He is the one also providing and replenishing the sustenance that His people need.
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Joel Sounds Like...

There is so much imagery jam packed into The Book of Joel. There are descriptions and sounds of images brought to life through this writing.
The first passage that caught my attention because of its sound was at the beginning. 
The vine dries up
And the fig tree fails;
The pomegranate, the palm also, and the apple tree,
All the trees of the field dry up
Indeed, rejoicing dries up
From the sons of men.
Gird yourselves with sackcloth
And lament, O priests;
Wail, O ministers of the altar!
I love the alliteration here that just pops when you read it aloud: “the fig tree fails”  and “the pomegranate, the palm also, and the apple tree.” This all helps to give it a rhythm and sound as you read.
There is also assonance that appears with the words tree, trees, field and indeed. These all have the “ee” sound that can give character and flow of the lines to the reader. It’s something that I came back to and read a few times to understand and read it better.
Toward the end there was some consonance with the letter t in lament, priests, ministers and altar. Along with that, ministers and altar had a rhyme to them at the very end. 

The next passage that I found beautiful to my ear to read was this:
They run like mighty men,
They climb the wall like soldiers;
And they each march in line,
Nor do they deviate from their paths.
They do not crowd each other,
They march everyone in his path;
When they burst through the defenses,
They do not break ranks.
They rush on the city,
They run on the wall;
They climb into the houses,
They enter through the windows like a thief.
The biggest appeal these lines had to my ear was the repetition that is developed here. The word “they” is repeated a lot with an action that comes after it: They run... They climb... They march... They (action here). It gives me the feeling that the “they” people are doing something. There is movement, there is a destination and purpose that “they” are striving for. This variation creates different feelings, like between “They rush” and “They enter.” “They rush” gives a hurried sense that there is a fast movement and the word is said quickly with a lingering on the “sh,” the ending of rush. On the other side, “They enter” is more casual. They are just entering through the windows like it’s no big deal. There isn’t the same sense of intensity, but almost more casual, or even cautious.
Also, assonance makes a scene here in words such as, like, mighty, break and ranks. It gives these lines repetition of sounds that the ear catches.
Alliteration makes an appearance as well through phrases like, “mighty men” and “do they deviate.” The “mighty men” gives strength to the men, not only because of the word mighty, but because it starts with an “m” and more emphasis will be given to these two words in a row.
Lastly, this little consonance that snuck in here is shown in the line, “And they each march in line.” The “ch” sounds gives almost a beat as you say it aloud. You can imagine people in line marching, firmly stepping in time: Left, left, left, right, left...

A third group of lines also caught my ears’ attention as I read The Book of Joel aloud.
“Yet even now,” declares the LORD,
“Return to Me with all your heart,
And with fasting, weeping and mourning;
And rend your heart and not your garments”
Now return to the LORD your God,
For He is gracious and compassionate,
Slow to anger, abounding in lovingkindness
And relenting of evil.
Once again, repetition shows its face. This time, it appears with words that end in -ing. Such as, fasting, weeping and mourning, all in the same line. Then the -ing’s are brought up again through abounding, lovingkindness and relenting. The -ing’s give a bounce to the sound as they are read aloud. Even the “ing” has its own bounce, and gives a nice rhythm to the end of the words as they are said.
The other big pattern of sound that is here is assonance, in words like, all, heart; heart garments; LORD your God. 
In that whole line, “Now return to the LORD your God,” there is consonance with return to. The t sound is repeated and then right after, the assonance comes in. These two elements put together side by side creates this urgency as you read it, and Israel does need to come back to God. These elements in this are appropriate for the urgency of Joel.

All of these elements placed within this piece help as you read this verbally, to create images visually, along with giving rhythm to the reader. 

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A Story about "A Story about the Body"

Not only did I read Robert Hass's work, "A Story about a Body" three times, I read it over and over so I lost count. As I read through this piece at different times, new ideas came to me about the meaning of the story as a whole, and even certain sentences.
The first character that I encountered was a "young composer, working that summer at an artists' colony" where he sees and meets this woman who is a Japanese painter that is almost sixty. That seemed kind of creepy to me. Hass doesn't specify the age of the man, but since he's "young," that could be from twenty years old to forty, yet the woman was almost sixty. Since the male character is young, I'm assuming that he hasn't experienced life and maybe isn't so educated because he doesn't know what a mastectomy is and the woman has to tell him in plain terms. Yet, this Japanese woman seems so honest, understanding and knows more about life than the man. She may have gone through other relationships and issues along with the double mastectomy. Those experiences may have caused her to see people in another light and may be more aware of people's reactions to situations.
One of the lines that was foreshadowing of this story was when "he thought he was in love with her." He didn't know for sure, he only thought he was in love. That was basically a dead giveaway that this wasn't going to be a happy ending. The love wouldn't last, and I was right.
I love how the Japanese artist's character is so straightforward with him, and says, I think you like me, and I like you too, but I have to tell you something about myself. She is so honest because she probably knows that this is a big factor for most people. She has probably faced some rejection in other relationships like this before, and is almost a "pro" at it now. I'm sure that it was heartbreaking the first time, and still is. But she seems to handle herself well. She faced the situation head on and told him this fact about herself because she would probably rather know sooner than later if this relationship was going to work out or not.
When "the radiance that he had carried around in his belly and chest cavity--like music--withered very quickly," you can see that this man did not have a real love for this woman. He had butterflies and superficial feelings, but when it came down to loving this woman that he thought he knew, he couldn't accept her because the double mastectomy that she had. I think that this character hadn't experienced true love. He probably hasn't been married or had super serious relationships, and that's why his feelings withered away. While on the other hand, I think the woman could have been married before, had children and other relationships with people, so she knew how they thought, and the most likely reaction to her situation.
An interesting thing that I noticed was that at both of the doors to their cabins, something is revealed about the characters. At the woman's door, we find out that she had a double mastectomy and the guy can't be with her if she is like that. Then, at the man's door the next day he finds a blue bowl sitting out there with rose petals in it. But underneath the rose petals were a bunch of dead bees. I had two different thoughts with this: One, this bowl with rose petals and dead bees represents this man. She thought he was this nice, sweet guy, but on the inside, his heart was cold and he didn't know how to love. It was like he was dead to her. He was dead on the inside. Two, it also could represent his perception of her. He looked at her and thought she was one way, but then he finds out this new information, and their relationship can no longer last. It's dead and gone.
I thought the "small blue bowl...full of rose petals" and "dead bees" was such a clever and artistic way to show the woman's thoughts of this man. There was a lot of meaning behind this small act.
Robert Hass tackled a subject that many of us deal with: accepting or rejecting others based on appearance.
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An Afternoon Adventure

“I’m bored,” Richie said. They had been playing since after lunch. They always did whatever Maggie wanted to do, since she was older.

“We can play a different game. How about ‘House’? And I can be the mommy, and Cindy can be the baby...” said Maggie. Cindy was her favorite doll at the moment. It never left her side. Its cute face and pretty dress were the things Maggie loved most about Cindy.

“No! We already played that. How ‘bout ‘Firefighters’? And we get to spray water and put out the fires! There are some buckets in the bathroom that we can put water in...”

“That’s going to make a mess, and Mommy won’t be happy. We would get spankings for that,” Maggie stated factually.

“Fine... There’s nothing to do! We have to be quiet because of Baby. I hate naps. Mommy said I don’t have to take naps because I’m a big boy now,” Richie triumphantly declared.

“I’m hungry,” Maggie said.

“Me too. I want some cookies.”

“We aren’t allowed to have cookies until after we finish all our dinner,” she reminded her brother. “But there’s celery in the fridge.”

“Ewww... I don’t like celery. It’s gross,” he complained. “It doesn’t taste good.”

“But Mommy says that’s what we can have for snacks.”

“Hmmmp!” Richie pouted. “I want cookies.”

“Well I’m getting celery,” Maggie told him.

Richie followed Maggie as she quietly tiptoed through the hall to the kitchen, so she wouldn’t wake up Baby. Richie, on the other hand, didn’t care about Baby’s nap time. He was consumed with the thought of not having cookies when he wanted them.

As Maggie approached the fridge, Richie approached a chair and dragged it from its place behind the table. He put it next to the counter so he could climb and stand on the countertop to reach the cookies. Mommy’s cookie jar was high in the cupboards so the kids, and her husband, couldn’t reach them easily. But as Richie stood on the counter, that jar was just within his reach. Maggie poked her little curly head out of the fridge just as he was reaching the prize.

“Richie! Get down! You’re not s’posed to be up there! No cookies!”

“But I want them!” Richie turned his focus back on the cookie jar and successfully reached his goal. He opened the cookie jar, and pulled out two, fresh, soft cookies that Mommy had made earlier that day. He sniffed the pleasing, chocolatey aroma and sighed contently. “Do you want one?”

Maggie pondered this offer for a moment. The celery didn’t taste that good. It actually tasted like nothing at all, and the strings always got stuck in her teeth. Mom’s cookies were the best and were a wonderful treat when she made them. She wanted that delicious taste in her mouth, but knew that it was forbidden as a snack. She shut the fridge as she declared her compromise. “I’ll just have a bite of yours. Let’s hurry quick so that Mom doesn’t catch us!”

Richie put the cookie jar back in its place, stepped down onto the chair, cookies in hand, then hopped to the ground. They pushed the chair around the table where it belonged and snuck out of the kitchen like nothing happened. As they got back to the room, Richie extended a cookie to Maggie. “I got you one too because I know these are so good and you like them a lot.”

Maggie tentatively took hold of the cookie. She did want the cookie, but she wanted to obey Mom. But she also wanted the delicious snack. Looking around, Maggie cautiously took her first bite. And then another, and another till the whole cookie was gone. “Thank you,” she said to her brother, through a mouthful of cookie.

After devouring their forbidden snack, they decided to play again, but this time, Richie was determined to pick the game. “Hey, let’s go outside and play. There’s nothing to do in the house.”

“Mommy said we couldn’t go outside unless she or Daddy is with us. But Mommy is resting with Baby, so we can’t go outside,” Maggie protested.

“But there’s nothing to do! And we’ll just be outside for a little bit.” After a few seconds of hesitation, Maggie reluctantly said yes.

“But only for a little bit because I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

The kids went out the back door to the big backyard. There was plenty of room to play, and they didn’t have to use their “quiet voices.” There was still the decision of what to play.

“We could play ‘House’ out here,” Maggie suggested.

“No, let’s play something fun! How ‘bout tag or soccer?”

“No, I don’t like those games.”

“Umm... What about Power Rangers?! We can beat up the bad guys and save the day! And you can be the Pink Ranger!” Richie exclaimed.

“Ok! And Cindy will be the little Pink Power Ranger,” she said as she still held her precious doll tightly. Richie had ruined a few other dolls by pulling off their heads, or ripping them. So she tried to keep Cindy from these horrible situations.

“Pew-pew-pew! I’m gonna get you, bad guy!” Richie announced as he swung purposefully at the air as if someone were there fighting him.

“Hyah! Pshew, pshew... Take that bad guy!” Maggie said as she too fought the invisible enemy in front of her.

They continued to fight like this until they had finally defeated the bad guy. Then Maggie and Richie sat on the grass facing the woods behind their house. They had gone in the woods a few times with Dad, who was building them a fort. It was about twenty feet in from the edge of the woods, and at this point, was simply a two-level frame with a few boards on top that the kids could sit on if they climbed to the second level. They weren’t allowed to go in the woods by themselves. Their parents didn’t want them getting lost.

Richie was done sitting around. He gazed at the woods and said, “Let’s go exploring! We haven’t played that!”

“Mommy says that we can’t go in the woods because it’s dangerous,” Maggie dutifully reminded him.

“But we’ll just go to the fort, and then we’ll come back. Please?” Richie begged.

“The sky is getting darker and icky. We should go in.”

“But I want to go to the fort!”

“No, we can’t. We’re not s’posed to.”

“Fine. I’m going by myself. You can’t make me go in the house,” Richie retorted as he ran off toward the woods.

Maggie debated whether to tell Mom, or to go after Richie herself. Maggie normally told on Richie, because Richie didn’t obey. But Maggie decided to be the brave one this time and rescue her brother from trouble because she was older and it was her responsibility.

“Wait!” Maggie called, running after him, with arms swinging wildly, still clutching her beloved doll. Her blonde curls bounced rapidly as she ran in Richie’s direction.

From afar, the woods seemed pleasant enough, but as Maggie approached the entrance, the forest seemed more ominous, especially as the sky darkened.

“Richie! Come on! I’m gonna tell on you!” Maggie didn’t really like the woods, but she found courage and stepped into this little leafy, green and brown world. She carefully moved over, around and under branches that were in her way. She followed a small, barely used path, that led the way to their work-in-progress fort. She approached the fort and said, “Come on, Richie, let’s go inside now. We don’t want to get in trouble.” 

There was no response.

“Richie? Hello? Where are you?” Maggie’s voice slightly rose with panic as she couldn’t find her brother.

A small snicker from a little distance gave him away, though. “You have to come and find me,” Richie said. “We’re playing hide-and-go-seek.”

“All right, ready or not, here I come,” she said meekly. She just wanted to find him and go back in the house. But as she searched, she realized she was having fun hunting for Richie. She looked up in the trees and around the bushes. She used the fort as a lookout and get a better view, and set down Cindy in a comfortable place to be a lookout as well. 

Finally, Maggie spotted Richie’s red shirt in a set of bushes farther away. She climbed down and quietly went to the area where the mischievous boy was.

“Gotcha!” she exclaimed, as she tapped Richie on the back.

“You found me!” Richie replied. “I thought it would take you forever.”

“Well I’m really good at this game.”

“Me too.”

“Ok,” Maggie said, “this time I’ll hide, and you have to find me. Now close your eyes and count to twenty.”

“All right. One... Two... Three... Four...”

Richie’s voice grew distant as Maggie slipped farther into the woods. She was looking for a good place to hide in the dense bushes or behind a big tree. She finally found a spot near a wild berry plant. She was told never to eat these berries because they were poisonous, so she didn’t even touch them as she crouched quietly in between them.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Richie announced.

Richie began searching for Maggie. He looked everywhere for her. But her green ensemble for the day was quite appropriate as it helped hide her in the bush. After a while, Maggie was getting restless, and the wind picked up, causing her to shiver. Richie still hadn’t found her, and Maggie thought that she had won the game. She carefully stood up and said, “Ok! You didn’t find me! I win!” 

But Richie was nowhere in sight. He had given up a minute or so before, bored because he couldn’t find her. Noticing that it was getting dark, Richie picked up Cindy from the fort, and brought her back to the house.

By this time, Mother had woken up from the pleasant nap to the baby crying. Her instincts carried her to the nursery and she appropriately attended to her baby’s needs. With the baby in one arm, she called to the kids from the kitchen because she was beginning to make supper, and she needed her little helpers. The kids had not replied, so she called once again, surprised that her faithful and obedient Maggie had not responded yet. 

All of a sudden, Richie came inside, brown hair slightly damp from the rain beginning to fall down, yet still clutching the small doll in his small hands.

“Where’s Maggie?” Mother asked calmly, but firmly.

“She’s out in the woods,” Richie replied nonchalantly and slightly out of breath.

Mother brought the baby back to the crib to play. The rain’s sweet pitter-patter on the roof became a thunderous pounding of water. She donned her coat and shoes. She was about to leave to find Maggie when the doorbell rang. Mother walked to the front door and opened it. To her delight and displeasure, Maggie stood there, drenched in her clothes.

“Margaret Susan...” Mother began.

Maggie stood there looking at her mother, soaked to the bone. Yet despite her predicament, her brown eyes sparkled with excitement, her innocent grin not concerned with consequence, but consumed with thoughts about another adventure.