Interpretation: A Grief Observed.

1.  A Grief Observed is a moving, thought-provoking, and deep work of literature written by C. S. Lewis. The first part of the small book focuses on Lewis's grief-laden thoughts. He explains what his grief feels like. He talks about what life is like now, how it is different. He misses his wife; the reality of her death hovers over all areas of his life. He is taking life one step at a time. He misses her, their love, their short marriage. He doesn't want to be selfish in his mourning. How should he go on from here? Religious pat answers won't do. After expressing these and other related thoughts, Lewis changes his thoughts and questions his own doubts. He realizes that this heart-wrenching situation should not affect his faith, though it is quite hard. The pangs will still come, but he has to allow himself to see clearly. He is realizing that grief is a "process" and is learning to find ways of positive, joyful thinking.

     This is the backdrop to the portion of text I want to interpret. Lewis is now into questions of how to keep "H." alive in his heart without doing injustice to himself or to her. Beginning on page 65 (and going through page 68), Lewis discusses the difference between what he thinks or remembers of H. compared to what and who she truly was. He writes, "Images, whether on paper or in the mind, are not important for themselves. Merely links." He relates this to needing "Christ, not something that resembles Him. I want H., not something that is like her." He has to constantly break himself of the images of God that take him away from who God fully, truly, ultimately is. This understanding and connection bring Lewis a hope. He questions whether God is his path to H. or his end in life, and hopes that God is still his end--his real hope with or without remembrance of H.

2.  This text deserves interpretation because of its deep thought processes, theological implications, and life applications. When first reading this through, I thought I knew the message; and maybe I did, but my understanding was shallow. There is a difference between knowledge and understanding, and this text requires real comprehension from re-reading and spending time with its ideas, even those which seem to be apparent at first.

3.  This writing deals with more than just grief, though grief is its overarching theme. It pushes past the basics and goes deep into mind struggles with God on what holding onto Him really means, what truly reaching for Him looks like. Seeing the book as a discussion on more than just grief itself is one way of approaching its pages that opens up our minds to get to the core of what subjectivity and reality are about.

     One theme I find from looking deeper into this text is that of the power of our subjectivity. We have strong tendencies to approach people, even God, with our own ideas of who they are, what they should be, how we remember them, and what we want them to be. Our unique lives cause us all to have these differing viewpoints, attitudes, and approaches. However, this should not keep us from appreciating who people are outside of who we see them to be. All of who my brother fully is can not be based solely on my interactions with or observations of him. He's more than that. When I put my subjective expectations on him without considering him as his own person, it limits my ability to access all of who he is.

     This subjectivity similarly affects how we view God. We put boxes around what He can, could, would, or would not do. I act like I know Him when many times I am really just acting out of what I think I know of Him. Instead of actually trusting, I trust enough that I'm confident about getting the answer I want. I see what I know of Him without searching for more. I get set on my reality that I sometimes forget that God is the Ultimate Reality.

     To summarize, understanding this theme of the implications of subjectivity brings about an awareness of reality that can help us to live life more fully. Subjectivity is not all bad. God made us unique and because of our differences He meets all our needs personally, specially, and tailored to who we are. It allows us to see God in personal ways. Subjectivity itself, though, can be quite unfair and even dangerous if left unnoticed. Realizing its reality helps to better appreciate and value others' realities.

4.  The message of subjectivity and reality comes from Lewis's thoughts on one of my favorite quotes from the book: "Not my idea of God, but God. Not my idea of H., but H." Pages 65 through 68 deal with this idea. Lewis talks about the photographs he has of H., concluding that he is not satisfied with them . . . he wants to know who she really is, not what she looks like or what reminds him of her or who his memories tell him she was. This idea seems basic at first, but the more I think about it the more it overwhelms me with thoughts such as those previously discussed.

     Lewis says, "I need Christ, not something that resembles Him. I want H., not something that is like her. A really good photograph might become in the end a snare, a horror, and an obstacle." A photograph can lend itself to such subjective interpretation that it scares Lewis that he will see it and gather from it things that aren't really true to the heart of H. Similarly, the images of Christ in communion do Him no justice whatsoever. They point to Him, but they are not really Him. It's a simple statement with much deeper significance.

     In relating to acknowledging our subjectivity, Lewis says, "My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has to be shattered time after time." This is why I believe we can take from this text that our subjectivity shadows how we see other people and God. Our views are limited, so we need to acknowledge that and consciously keep our subjective realities in check. Doing this is a continual process: "All reality is iconoclastic." The true, actual reality of others and of God will constantly break our "icons," our images or subjective ideas, of who they really are.

5.  One thing I love about the interpretation I have gathered from this book is that its message applies to both everyday life and to specific times of grief. From day to day I want to check myself to keep my subjective, limited ideas from hindering my ability to fully experience God and the people He has put in my life. We can use this understanding to encourage openness and discourage one-sided expectations. Doing so opens us up to a relationship with God that is based on true relationship, yearning to know Him for who He actually is and not just who we think He is. This means going past Sunday school images and memorized hymns and engaging in conversation with the God who is able to and does reveal Himself personally, openly, freely.

     In time of grief, remembering our subjectivity can help us to move forward while still loving the people we have lost on this earth. Instead of worrying over remembering details and keeping every photo or memento, it is more important to focus on who those people truly were. What made them individuals? How did God see them? Who were they apart from the ideas of them in our minds? I have not yet had to deal with the loss of someone close to me; but when I do, I hope to not let my wishes of having their physical selves change the facts of who they really were. I don't want my mournful desires to make my subjective wishes seem like reality. I want to embrace who they really were. My interaction with them here on this earth will not again be possible, so why should I pretend like it is? It is a natural reaction that I probably will experience, but my hope is that I will not dwell on it but rather live in reality, keeping distorted images from forming and loving the totality of who they were and who their legacy is.

A Temple of the Holy Ghost.

The main character of this story, the twelve year old girl, is an interesting one. She's intelligent, funny, quick on her feet, and quite wise for her age. Flannery O'Connor writes in a humorously blunt style, unafraid to share with readers ugly realities (including physical traits), awkward characteristics, or harsh judgments. In a way this makes her writings more believable. For example:  "Joanna had yellow hair that was naturally curly but she talked through her nose and when she laughed, she turned purple in patches."

Something this style makes me think of is that although idiosyncrasies (like the one in the example) are easy to turn into hurtful and/or humorous realities, the truth is that we all have characteristics like these. This story makes me think about people in general and the many ways in which we relate through our weaknesses, disadvantages, and flaws. We just can't be "perfect," even though most of us have an idea of what this looks like. To O'Connor (whether representing herself or the imagined narrator) she has an idea of beauty that is apparently marred by nasal voices, blemishes, and certain facial structures. To go a step further, this is a reminder to me to be careful with my words and how I describe people or things. If I'm not careful, I may disrespectfully represent someone or something in an unfair, slanderous, or hurtful way. Traits of people that may be odd to me may be normal to many others. None of this is to critique O'Connor's writing style; she is creative and successful and uses her style to convey messages. However, these are thoughts that have sprung from observing her descriptions.

Something else I think of is how lightly we tend to take serious truths. Jesus Himself told us our bodies are temples for His Spirit to indwell. However, the two visiting girls in the story have turned the truth into a big joke. This has to do with their insincerity of faith. They are just going to the convent because their families want them tamed. Their faith is not personal. They may even have gotten a bad taste of religion: "...they were beginning to realize that she was made of the same stuff as Sister Perpetua." The notice religious lingo and pat answers and want to avoid it.

I actually don't blame them. Faith is supposed to be so much more than fact. It's real relationship. I see the desire and search for this in the child in the story. She wants more. She day dreams of lions converting when they witness her faith. She prays because she's supposed to, but she wants more to come from the practice. She wants what she prays for to become who she is. She is even thankful to God that she is not part of a religious denomination (the Church of God). And upon hearing the story the girls shared about the both male and female person from the fair, she mulls over the facts that we are God's temples and that He made us different ways. She wants to accept all these differences. It's almost as if O'Connors writing style is both redeemed and condemned with the thoughts on page 98. We're made unique in many ways, so it really is okay however we look. But at the same time, maybe we shouldn't accentuate the differences so much.

The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas.

Although the first half of this story began to confuse me and wonder what the point is, the ending makes it worth the questioning and detailed descriptions. The picture is of a beautiful, radiant, quaint, and charming city called Omelas.

"The air of morning was so clear that the snow still crowning the Eighteen Peaks burned with white gold fire across the miles of sunlit air, under the dark blue of the sky. There was just enough wind to make the banners that marked the racecourse snap and flutter now and then. In the silence of the broad green meadows one could hear the music winding through the city streets, farther and nearer and ever approaching, a cheerful faint sweetness of the air that from time to time trembled and gathered together and broke out into the great joyous clanging of the bells."

This quote shows why I just love how Ursula K. Leguin uses beautiful wording and imagery to explain the reality and happenings of this place called Omelas. Air, we know, is already clear; but seeing it written makes a profound statement. The imagery of snow as "white gold fire" feels almost ironic, yet it is stunning. Even the wind blows at just the right pace. The meadows create a silence. Music winds through the streets as if it had its own mind, feet, purpose.

This story is partly about joy. Many, maybe most, of the people who live here understand joy. And I think the people who don't are "the ones who walk away from Omelas." Why else would they leave? Omelas has no army to stir up joy from others' loss. The joy is true, right, "content." The people who understand their freedom embrace life for the sake of that one helpless, lost, necessarily neglected child. This is my favorite part of the functioning of Omelas. Its people take to heart that their interaction with happiness does not come from themselves. It reminds me of our lives as Christians; without Christ and His humanly unfair sacrifice, we would not know such joy, peace, and purpose. He, like this child, became the One for the all. But we move on. We accept His place . . . humbly, gratefully, continually. "Their tears at the bitter injustice dry when they begin to perceive the terrible justice of reality and to accept it."

Maybe the ones who leave leave because they don't understand the sacrifice. People don't leave before seeing the "wretched" child. They leave after they cannot bear his or her condition. Maybe they feel the guilt that Omelas cannot have, and it drives them away. Perhaps they believe they'll find a better way to accept happiness. What is keeping them from accepting this reality? What makes them think they will be satisfied with another way? For some reason they cannot put enough trust in the truth of what is right in front of them, so they "walk ahead into the darkness." Is it going to be better? Or worse?

A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings.

This story has such a catchy title. It's kind of strange, but I think the more we talk about it the more we'll get out of it. My first reactions to what I make of it are that we focus so much on appearances. We have expectations of what we imagine angels to look like, but how will we really know until we see one? Maybe he wasn't an angel at all. Maybe his purpose was to teach a lesson...maybe not to the characters in the story but to the readers.

What the story says is the account of this old, dirty angel-man who arrives in a town. He is used for profit by others but not offered compensation to help himself better his situation. He asks for nothing. He submits to living in a chicken coop as if he were some unspiritual animal. He is easily replace when something "better" comes along--the spider-girl. And when finally takes flight, it is a relief.

One apparent meaning I find in this story is that of appearances. It says, "His prudence fell on sterile hearts." Though they acknowledged him as an angel, he was not what they expected, so his messages go unheard. But he doesn't give up. He never complains. He stays around as the child grows up. When the profits cease and he's not the "attraction" anymore, he is cared for even less. Yet he finds strength. He must know his purpose, his mission, and he doesn't leave until it's completed. What it matters is harder to say. I'm confused by the crabs. But I think a strong message is not to disregard the people, even things, that come into our lives because they probably have a purpose and a meaning to offer us if we take the time to listen.

Nature, Poetry, and Spiritual Practice.

"I went to Lake Bonny Park for this field trip, and I stayed there for at least 45 minutes."

Focus narrowed on the baseball green 

Yet life silently abounds

As silent spectators to the world around

Pines, firs, oaks, palms

Flowing with the winds of life:

Standing firm in foundation

Without submitting to pride

Allowing the blue canvas to

Contrast their greens

Their buds, their bark, their build

Allowing the star of light and warmth to

Highlight their beauty unashamed

Both receiving and producing life

Allowing the appearance of seasons to

Change the outward view

Yet holding true to embrace

Dormancy, blossom, strength, purging

Still playing with the star

Not interfering yet not fully giving in

Accepting yet standing ground

Leaving unique shadowed impressions

Open to change

Breathing life

Understanding death

- - -


Visiting Lake Bonny Park lead me to a spiritual application of trees; it helped me to understand how Mary Oliver produces beautiful poetry that offers spiritual insight. It makes sense--God created this world. It should put us in awe. I find myself in wonder of God's creativity, biological order, palate of colors, diversity of texture, distribution of molecules . . . 

In trees I think of the unobservable . . . their roots. They are the foundation. What is the basis of my foundation? What feeds me to sustain me and keep me grounded? I think of growth. The oldest, largest oaks start as one small seed. Am I growing? Am I drinking pure water? What hinders my growth? I think of the trunk; it isn't always the prettiest part, but each species is unique and has its own beauty. Is my core strong? Am I not focused on how it looks outwardly? Am I healthy inside? I think of branches. Am I reaching out? I think of buds or blossoms. Am I allowing God to use me to plant seeds in others? I think of leaves. Am I expressing the quality of life I've been given through Christ? I think of the concentric rings of circles inside the trunk that represents its years. Do I have marks to show for the time I've lived?

I like what Professor Corrigan said in the essay: "One cannot truly love and be present to God without being led back to loving the world." If we don't love and care for the creation we've been given and entrusted with, we are missing a huge aspect of God. In Walking Home from Oak-Head, Mary Oliver writes about snow, how it reveals "the love meaninglessness of time." God's given us the ability to get lost in His creation. I could watch soft snowflakes fall for quite some time without becoming bored or unsettled. There's something captivating, enthralling about individual pieces of white falling, flowing, down from the sky. The ocean has a similar effect on me. It's like the threshold she talks about in Six Recognitions of the Lord; the bounce between reality and "not" reality. Time is useless during these moments. Embracing these moments is the perfect place for prayer, meditation, encounters with the Lord. I love how Oliver describes this spiritual "dialogue": "It is mystery. It is love of God. It is obedience." If loving the world is our work (as set forth in Messenger), this includes not only its inhabitants but also the Earth itself. It requires"[keeping our minds] on what matters." It takes focus and intention. The moments in which we can find God's power in the beauty, intricateness, diversity of creation remind us of our purpose and Who we serve. "Our God is an awesome God . . ."

Nature and Poetry.

Visiting the Circle B Bar Reserve was really neat. I'd never been there before and liked how nice the facilities are and how full of life the land is. I enjoyed the tour and learning different pieces of information about the wildlife, vegetation, and history of the reserve. But I think my favorite portion of the field trip is the time we took to spend alone, soaking in the world around us.

The air felt crisp with the slight wind that comes before a storm. It felt clean, cool, and free. It smelled  fresh. Looking around, I tried to take in everything that I could. The lady driving the truck for us had mentioned earlier that her eyes, over time, had become better at detecting the colors of the scenery. When I focused on noticing these differences, I could see so many greens in the trees and plants. . . kelly green, forest green, dark green, green with blueish tints, green with purpleish tints, bright green, yellow-green, green-green. I started appreciating the texture that exists in nature, seeing how various species of plants add their own variety to the landscape in three-dimensional and patterned ways. And when I closed my eyes, I felt like I was part of the environment. I could hear five different types of animals communicating nearly simultaneously. Most, I think, were birds. I began thinking about communication and silence. When I was silent, I could tune in to the language of the animals. When I was silent, they weren't being interrupted by me. When they are silent, are they listening to us? It got me thinking about language--can animals of one species understand the sounds of another species? We often train animals to understand our human languages, but it is much different trying to understand their sounds because they are not on our intellectual level. These thoughts alone have led to so many others. Needless to say, a lot can be learned and inspired and thought of through purposefully appreciating the nature God created. These few quiet moments gave me the opportunity to engage in nearly every one of (if not all) of the points in Professor Corrigan's first set of bullet points in his Notes on Nature and Poetry.

Caring for this creation, properly stewarding God's gift of nature, is so important. I want my grandchildren to be able to experience the array of greens, clean air, and exquisite wildlife that I have. This week has offered a good reminder of how necessary it is that I do not irresponsibly pollute my environment.

After we talked about The State of the Planet in class, I realized the evolutionary references were more numerous than I had thought. I better understand Hass's references to Lucretius and find both intelligence and amusement in them.

Spending time outdoors gave me some insight on how talented poets such as Robert Hass express thoughts and ideas so well. Hass and other writers put effort into noticing details and translating those details into words. One of my favorite examples of this is in section 1: "The red satchel on her quite straight back darkening splotch by smoky crimson splotch as the rain pelts it." They find ways to draw analogies that explain this translation process: "atoms . . . are like electricity having sex." I enjoy writings like this and think it's the main reason poetry is one of my favorite types of literature. That coupled with my awe for God's creation makes for a pleasing combination of literature and life.

State of the Planet.

1.

I wanted this poem to receive response similarly fashioned but the
Style is not my forte, makes me second guess and question my
work. No matter. For how does one grow without effort infused
Into the goal desired? He, or she, does not and will not. So,

Concerning the State of the Planet. Robert Hass has presented
A poetic work featuring questions and ponderings of the
Planet earth, academic undertones pressing throughout the
Artistic expression. Unafraid to acknowledge he
Asserts that, "Poetry should be able to comprehend the earth."

2.

This poetry dances with truths often unconsidered about
The deep, the pure, the humanly unknowable
Complexity of the earth. Overwhelmed would be
The minds of men if understanding of this were conceivable.

As scholarly as scientific Hass leaves me puzzled and stirs
My curiosity. Licks: revealing messages on stones.
Honeycombs with mouths: what an analogy. Electricity having sex: what an analogy.
Combining mind forces he challenges the reader into
Depth, question, thought, expansion, reality, creation.

3.

Three now and 3 in the poetry on the table. At first
Read: confusion. But I now witness Hass responding in kind to
Lucretius's penetrating poetic discussion of philosophy, nature,
Origin. Illuminated mice offer simply one specimen
Of planet stewardship since the Roman breathed and
Breathed his last.

Mystifying the unenlightened the honeycomb with mouths once
Again perplexes. Now, though, it appears that number
Five searches for remainders of evolutionary history. I
Cannot agree, though research finds Devonian times marked
The leg evolution per aquatic sources. Nonetheless, Hass
Leaves mystery unsolved lest "a honeycomb with mouths"
Connotes nothing more than its letters represent.

4.

Poetry, leeway granted, abandons "sobriety" in hopes
Of stretching creation limited by proper thoughts
Into colorful images tinted with simile, metaphor, expression.
Why can not a science lesson inform through
Means as varied as its subjects?

Why can not a man's inner thinkings concerning this fading
Earth join academia and art? They can, they do--they will.
Lucretius and Hass and unnamed souls. Fitted for its occasion the State 
Of the Planet entertains its subject; asking, unwavering, searching;
Acquiescing to wonder.

From Text to Reality

It was informative and helpful to look at mental handicaps from three different perspectives: the play The Boys Next Door, the essay by Dr. Fettke, and the visit to the Alliance for Independence. All three definitely supplemented each other.

I think the biggest way that reading the play prepared me for visiting AFI was getting me in the mindset of thinking about these mentally disabled people. Although my brother has disabilities, it does not fully prepare me for dealing with other people who have similar limitations. I have become so used to him as an individual that I often don't consciously recognize his handicap--it's just him. So reading the play and the essay got me thinking about this. I was able to go into the trip to AFI with a mindset of loving and appreciating these people  for who they are. Thinking this way was especially influenced by Dr. Fettke's discussion on the imago dei and realizing value and worth in all humans simply for the fact that we are God's prized creation.

The Boys Next Door reminded me how capable some mentally challenged people, many the ability to have jobs in the community like the characters Arnold and Norman do. This awesome reality is the first thing I noticed that visiting AFI informed me about the play. I wish I could remember his name, but at AFI I met the guy who works at the Lakeland Center helping with food prep for events. He told me he's going to be a chef. He has a job and aspirations just like almost everybody else does. He seemed like one of the more capable and developed clients at AFI, and I was not surprised at his success. He's probably a fun person to work with, too.

Something that tends to be characteristic about mentally challenged people is repetition. I know many handicapped people need to repeat things many times to learn them, whether in school, work, chores, etc. They also repeat conversations. One guy at AFI told us a few times about his girlfriend of six months, each time as genuinely as the first. And each time she grinned shyly and happily as if he'd never told us before. It's cute because I don't think they actually forgot we already knew. However, it was still important and didn't matter if it'd been said.

The whole idea of relationships among the mentally handicapped is something I don't know much about.  Reading the play "prepared" me for this possibility, and it was really cool to see couples at AFI. I love it because it helps us see that their basic desires and dreams are the same as ours. Going back to reading the play after meeting those couples at AFI gave me a personal reference and helped me better picture how the budding relationship between Sheila and Norman might really look.

One other thing I wanted to mention is the serious issue of government funding. We read about it in the play when Lucien prepares for and stands before the senate, but I didn't realize all the implications of that at the time. At AFI we talked a good amount about funding and cuts, and it puts things in perspective when you learn that funding covers only $27 of the about $70 it takes to run the alliance per client each day, and that will soon probably be lowered to around $21. It's sad because this means less services can be provided when less money is coming through. Although Lucien's fictional case allowed him the opportunity to protest, but the clients at AFI can't control how much the state of Florida grants them.

And on a final note . . . I enjoyed the opportunity to meet and interact with people having different disabilities because it is so important that we (especially as Christians) care for those who society often overlooks. It's part of life, however frustrating or complicated it may be at times. I'm thankful for the reminder of how valuable each life is to God.

The Handicapped and the Church Community.

I am in full agreement with Steven Fettke that the church body needs to do more to accept and minister to people with physical and/or mental handicaps. The questions he asks are hard ones; but, as we have read, asking hard questions is good. It helps us face difficult situations and find answers and ways to get through them. Living with a disabled person is one of those trying situations, and I think it's normal to wrestle with "why" questions since disabilities can complicate things.

I truly appreciated Fettke's definition of normal "as simply being created in God's image." That is comforting, beautiful, and so very true. God, the only Being that is unchanging, is the Creator of such varied and different people. So how is it that we try to determine normality based on our incredibly varied selves? Yes, normal helps us create thought pathways and categorize aspects of humanity. But as I think about normalcy right now from a Biblical perspective, I feel confident that God is not concerned with normal. He is all for the last becoming first and the weak being the strong. Our human ideas of "normal" do not really mean being normal is better in God's eyes.

I liked Fettke's discussion of pneumatology, the doctrine of the Holy Spirit (yes . . . I did look that up to clarify things!), and his use of related Scripture. God is the author, creator, and giver of life--all life. And all human beings are created with souls and the inner capacity to know God. They are just as able to be filled with and share His spirit and love. I see the relationship between mentally disabled people and God as raw and simple.

To best explain this I want to tell you about my little brother. He has down syndrome and so is quite mentally handicapped, and he is probably the least judgmental person I have known. Though most people see him as disabled (myself included), he has this beautiful gift of acceptance that I don't think I will ever come close to. Maybe it's because he can't think as critically. Maybe it's because he doesn't understand many things. But I have seen him love, hug, smile, wave to, laugh with, and comfort all kinds of people. Young or old, clean or dirty. He doesn't base anything on how people look, talk, act, or think. It brings happy tears to my eyes. When I see him interacting like this, I see the Spirit of Christ. IQ doesn't limit God. Physical ability doesn't slow Him down. There truly is nothing powerful enough to separate us from Christ's love or His working through us.

The Boys Next Door [2]: Reality.

1. It is almost freeing to try to comprehend the significance mentally handicapped people assign to different things. Lucien wears his Spiderman tie because, to him, it shows that he means business. While many people probably view this as childish (which maybe it is), Lucien knows Spiderman was successful and serious and did what he needed to do. There is a very real connection and meaning there for Lucien.

2. We associate various things because of the connections we have in our brains between words, meaning, actions, situations, people, and so much more. Slower people may have the capacity for fewer connections, so it is cute when Lucien reminds Norman, "We got no trees," because he heard him say the word "tree." This brought him back to the conversation in Act I when he kept repeating that line.

3. As portrayed in this book (though the degree varies widely), mentally handicapped people often have an interest or hobby which defines much of their conversations and even sometimes their lives. Norman has keys and likes doughnuts and says, "Oh boy!" frequently. Barry is all about golfing. Arnold wants to move to Russia and likes emphasizing his statements ("I repeat . . ."). Lucien takes pride in singing the alphabet song and using his full name. Shelia loves flowers.

4. Caring for people with different mental capabilities than yourself is hard. It is a calling. This play shows how true this is by bringing Jack through the tough decision of taking another more "glamorous" job. He does not care any less for any of these people; however, he needs a break, a change.

5. Working with the mentally handicapped can be very rewarding. It can show you the beauty of the simple things in life. It can change you. Jack is emotionally touched many times by the simple yet overwhelmingly kind things they do for him. Living alongside these people helps you appreciate other people's personalities, styles, affections, and gestures because they are so different from your own or pre-set ideas or expectations of how people act. It brings you to a simple reality of life. Who we are is not defined by our favorite phrases or foods or by our "crazy" ideas or habits. Ultimately God fills us with meaning in giving us human, living, breathing life.

The Boys Next Door.

It was interesting reading a play this time and changing up the style of literature. It made me think of the days in high school when I worked on stage crew for a school play. So much goes into bringing literature (in these cases a well-written play) to life. Costumes, props, stage set-up, scenery, backgrounds, voice inflection, makeup, musical effects, and more influence the portrayal of the words in a play. All these things add to the audience's experience of the script.

Reading the italicized notes within The Boys Next Door is one of my favorite parts. It helps me imagine the setting. It helps me picture the characters' outfits, expressions, gestures, personalities, and interactions. 

"In the tub! In the tub! In the tub!"

This part (page 9) made me laugh. The childlike scheming fails as Jack, the father figure, walks in. The guys (Arnold and Lucien) are so proud of their plan, yet the reader (or audience) knows it will never work. Their following improvisation of hiding boxes under their shirts is not just hilarious; it also shows their innocence. They don't have involved, manipulative plans. They probably aren't even capable of pulling off a big lie. But that is just what I am starting to like about these characters. 

"ARNOLD. Shut the door! No! No, wait. We need a plan. We need an airtight plan. Rats are sneaky. That's why everybody says, "You sneaky rat." We can't waste any time. Norman, shut off the lights. First thing, we'll blind him. Go on, shut 'em off! (Norman shuts off the lights. The flashlights still glow.) Now, Lucien, count to three, then shut the door. Very easy. Don't let him know where you are."

This is another scene that was both humorous yet significant. My first response here was that I think I'd really enjoy seeing this play in person. Then I started thinking about the characters. With an understanding the capacities of the mentally retarded, this is an honest portrayal of how they think. It makes me smile. This was a situation they could handle in their own way. They didn't have to call Jack. They didn't run away and weren't scared by the animal. From spotting the rat to flushing it down the toilet, they took control and did what they needed to do.

Barry.

Barry is a classic example of a mentally handicapped person thinking he is a pro. His thing is golf, and he knows all about it. He doesn't actually play very much, but he wants to teach people how to play and appreciate the finer side of golf--not just hitting the ball. He charges for his lessons, though it is an insignificant amount. He reads the paper without the funnies. He sees himself as sophisticated, but (so far at least) his character does not seem to think he's better than his housemates or anyone else. This is a quality which many handicapped people seem to have, and it's a great example. 

As I'm thinking about plays as literature right now, my appreciation for them is increasing. This is an exciting and direct way of bringing literature to life, and I love that. It's no wonder that Shakespeare is such an important literary figure to this day. Then I think of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice and am reminded how well-read that title is and how it has been turned into captivating movies. I recently watched the modern Pride and Prejudice and was talking with some friends about how much we enjoy the dialogue. It makes the movie unique, deep, intelligent, and entertaining. Though I didn't think about it at the time, I now see that what we were actually talking about was literature. 

Sonny's Blues.

The length of this story did not bother me at all. The action keeps it moving, James Baldwin's writing style is appealing, and the story itself is interesting.

The author tends to create mental pictures to help explain various things that he writes about. I liked his description of the "great block of ice." I see this huge ice cube resting within his body. It is there because of the news he has just learned. It is uncomfortable. Its effect lasts beyond its existence; "it never got less." It melting causes it to affect his entire body. And it is, obviously, not a positive affect. It's overwhelming, unshakable, gnawing, and numbing. Three pages over this ice is mentioned again. It's identified as dread here. He knows he has to accept this news, but he doesn't want to. He knows Sonny may make the same mistakes again, but he doesn't want to admit it. Dread has a way of bothering us so entirely that it helps keep us from acknowledging the truth. It leads us to consciously numb ourselves to reality. And this is what he, the narrator, has done for so long.

Two very similar phrases are used in this story: "I watched him through the smoke," and, "watching me through the smoke." In both cases I saw this, the smoking and the smoke it produces, as forming some sort of a barrier between the two men who are talking. It gives the something to do, something they both maybe enjoy or do habitually. Maybe it makes them feel more comfortable.

"It was what I was thinking and so it seemed to me he had no right to say it."
     I think this goes back to the ice. This man doesn't want to believe, to accept, that he can't really do much to help his brother. He won't say--admit--it, so why should someone else be able to?

"He was smiling all over his face."
     I could not help but smile when I read this! I just love the line. So much goes into a smile, a genuine one. Eyes, eyebrows, cheeks, nose, teeth, lips, mouth, muscles, thoughts.

"The big windows fool no one, they aren't big enough to make space out of no space."
     This helps me imagine how small this home is in the "housing project" where Sonny's brother's family lives. It comes across as a reality that almost wants to be softened by its simplicity. Facing realities like this adds to the fact that is must be hard to live in places like this, where even a sunny, open window can't make the mood better, can't create the illusion of space, can't make one feel better about the room in which he sits. I can't help but think that "he" probably wishes he could afford a bigger space in a different community.

One theme that seems to run throughout this story is the conflict between older and younger brothers. Sonny wants his brother to understand him, but he can't. His brother wants to protect him, but he can't. They have a hard time seeing how the other sees. They want to, but there are chasms that keep them from relating to each other. Sonny has dreams of being a musician that his brother cannot see as practical because of his own view of reality.

However, nearer the end, he comes to better understand where Sonny is coming from. He sees how much his life is linked to the piano, his ability to play it and bring it to life itself. Hearing him bring out the songs, the blues, and truly listening helped him to realize this was Sonny's avenue to freedom. Here we come to see that the title has a double meaning. Sonny really does play blues music, but he also plays music about the blues, the sad and difficult times in life that we have to get through. His way of getting through them is through the blues.

A Grief Observed [2].

I went to the Lakeview, Roselawn and Tiger Flowers cemetery complex for this fieldtrip, and I stayed there for at least 40 minutes.

This fieldtrip was more of an experience than I thought it'd be! Professor Corrigan is always right . . . =) It was kind of weird thinking about all the people in that grave yard who died so many years ago. Something that struck me was that a majority of these people probably have no remaining family members who actually knew them . . . yet their graves still stand. Something about them is left even though memories of them probably are not.
- - -

After reading A Grief Observed, I know I am definitely going to keep this one. It fights through the process of grief. They are hopeful and insightful for not only those experiencing grief but also those who have yet to experience it. The book has given me an understanding of how to care for or better relate to someone going through the process. It also has many truths that can be taken out of the context of grief and applied to many areas of life.

"Does grief finally subside into boredom tinged by faint nausea?"
     Lewis is experiencing guilt in a different way now. It involves both the mental and the physical. I love that he asks the question, though, rather than being sure of it. He's still working through the process of grieving.

"What grounds has it given me for doubting all that I believe?"
     I love the thought process on pages 36 and 37. Lewis puts asides his feelings for a moment and logically thinks through trust and faith. He realizes this one grief is so poignant, so shaking, to him because it affected him personally. He sees death around him and he trusts. But when it hits him, he's shaken. It shouldn't happen, but it does. He distinguishes between imagination and trust, possibility and occurrence. He's progressing and going somewhere with his thoughts despite his hurt.

"Grief is like a bomber circling round and dropping its bombs each time the circle brings it overhead . . ."
     This image stood out to me because I can just imagine a war scene where huge blows keep coming, coming, coming. Out of nowhere. When you least expect them. Exploding to affect more than where they hit. The pangs that hit the heart and mind of a grieving person are like this.


"You can't see anything properly while your eyes are blurred with tears."
     It's as if after he wipes away his tears for long enough that his memories of H become beautiful stories. I find myself so happy for their previous life together, loving the love they had and the moments they lived. I forgot I was reading "a grief" for a few moments. The description he gives of her as his wife is beautiful. He almost experiences her memory in a more real way after he started to accept that her physical presence will be gone.    


"Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape."
     This is another moving picture of grief. I actually briefly searched "valley" online to get a better picture in my mind. There are many different types of valleys. These types provide general distinctions (death, poverty, war, attack, hopelessness . . .), but each valley is unique within its kind. Many valleys lie between mountains, obstructions on either side. There is often a stream of water running in the valley, providing forward motion and leading to open waters. Each stream moves at its own pace, unique to its placement and the conditions of the valley. The valley opens you up to new sights, sounds, and feelings. You don't know what's around the bend, but you're moving forward. There is a beginning, but there isn't an end in itself. It, grief, becomes less defined and less confined as it finds the opening at the end of is natural path.


"Thus up from the garden to the Gardener, from the sword to the Smith. To the life-giving Life and the Beauty that makes beautiful."
     This is one of the lessons that can relate to many different aspects of life. In context, Lewis was talking about thanking God for His wife, praising Him in order to cultivate joy in his life. We should practice this principle consistently, daily allowing ourselves to be reminded of the Gardener who creates nature, the Smith who uses us as Swords for His purpose, the loving Father to His children with whom He gives us to share relationship, love, and life.

"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."
     Once again, this quote in context relates to moving on from grief. But this struck me and seems so important for my spiritual walk with God, good times or bad. He's not the path to our desired emotions. HE is our answer. Solely, singly, fully. In every area of life.

[painting]

"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"

A Grief Observed.

I truly enjoyed these first two chapters of A Grief Observed. I have never experienced the death of a close loved one, but I think C. S. Lewis writes beautifully the thoughts, emotions, turmoils, frustrations, and disparities of a mourning heart. It has given me insight into what the experience might be like. It is written in an honest and raw way. Lewis even ponders the questions of why God lets these types of things happen. It was at this point that this book reminded me of Professor Corrigan's essay that deals with questions. Those questions were about spiritual hope, facing darkness, and experiencing both. The essay reminded us that since we know Jesus is with us, we need to frame our questions correctly. We should rather be asking where God is amidst the darkness. Similarly, Lewis is trying to understand what questions to ask and what conclusions to draw. He knows God is there, but he is afraid he won't like what He finds.

"When you are happy, so happy that you have no sense of needing Him, so happy that you are tempted to feel His claims upon you as an interruption, if you remember yourself and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be--or so it feels--welcomed with open arms."
     How many times have we, have I, experienced this? It is all too easy to feel God and His blessings when things are so good that we fail to communicate with Him, spend enough time with Him, or acknowledge Him other than to quickly thank Him.

"Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything."
     This gives me the picture of vastness. Whether sunny or cloudy, blue or grey, it is there. Everyone sees it. None can avoid it. It covers everything everywhere. What an emptiness to miss someone in this way! I can not imagine what it feels like to have everything remind me of someone, to have everything changed because that person is not a part of life. It is amazing how the love of another person adds so much to one's life . . . definition, meaning, purpose, strength, joy. Even though the actual things and actions may be the same, they're different because this person is not a part of them any longer.

"One only meets each hour or moment that comes."
     This reminds me of God's grace. That grace is sufficient for all our needs. God will never bring us into a situation that He won't bring us through. Life is a journey that we encounter step by step. When faced with huge storms (cancer, death, unhappiness), we get through them little by little and realize our God is way bigger and the problems start to appear way smaller.

It's interesting how Lewis recognizes that his thoughts may be re-creating who "H" was, his memories becoming less genuinely her and more constructed through him. He is afraid that one day what he thinks was true of her may have actually become not so accurate. Maybe an odd connection, but this actually made me think about what I know of God. Is what I know of Him actually who he is? Or is it constructed thoughts that I've pieced together based on things I've been told, memories that haven't been refreshed? It's a good spiritual  reality check.

Its teeth are the teeth of a lion...

"Its teeth are the teeth of a lion, And it has the fangs of a lioness."

This image is referring to the nation that has invaded God's land. It is interesting giving a nation the attributes of teeth and fangs. It makes me think of first the lion, how it is such a strong animal that can be beautiful but also can dominate other animals easily. Israel is going to be overtaken as if it were the lions' prey. The people of this invading army may be seen as different teeth of these lions. Each one, brought together, is going to chomp at God's land and His people.

"All the trees of the field dry up / Indeed, rejoicing dries up."

This is part of the result of the overtaking. Without rejoicing, there is no life. Everything is dried out, cracked, colorless, barren, desolate, unwelcoming. It makes me picture a vast land with once beautiful trees, flowers, and bushes now fading and dying, one by one. It's a place I don't want to be, a place I want to avoid. I hate to think that that's how life could become if I gave up on finding things to rejoice in.

"Their appearance is like the appearance of horses; and like war horses, so they run."

These two lines stood out to me the first time I read this text. Horses are beautiful to me, incredibly strong yet so graceful and gentle. These people (who are looking forward to luscious land and back at desolation) are ready to go. They hear the trumpet, and they have the strength of horses. As horses in battle, they have purpose, a goal, motivation, and maybe a wound or two. They follow each other and stick together.

"But the LORD is a refuge for His people / And a stronghold to the sons of Israel."

I don't think I could ever describe another human being as a refuge, and I think that's why I love these lines so much. God is a refuge. He is a safe place. In Him I can rest. I can run to Him when I'm in trouble. He's always going to be there because He is a stronghold--unmoving, unchanging, unwavering. It's beautiful and amazing.

The whole book of Joel is, in a way, an image drawn in four chapters of scriptural poetry. I think much of it may be literal in that there were historical times of drought and famine and then times of abundance, rain, and harvests. But these images of dryness and then fullness are also an image to what the Lord did then and also does now. When we are not listening to Him, when we do our own things without seeking His will, or when we turn away from Him, our lives--the land--become so dry. We are not joyful, we are always in want of something, and we endure terrible things. But when we allow Him to be the Lord of our lives, we experience deliverance. We find it easy to rejoice in His love, we are blessed for clinging to Him, we know His words of truth and His promises, and we ultimately are saved.

Joel.

"What the gnawing locust has left, the swarming locust has eaten; and what the swarming locust has left, the creeping locust has eaten; and what the creeping locust has left, the stripping locust has eaten."

I really like the repetition of these lines in chapter one of Joel. It has the effect of emphasizing the message that the land is going to be stripped bare. All three of the phrases are structured in the same way: what this kind of locust has left, this kind of locust has eaten. The descriptive words defining the types of locusts have to do with action, which emphasizes both the literary effect and the reality of the message (barrenness). The words sound good because they are so similar and they are easy to comprehend.

"The seeds shrivel under their clods; the storehouses are desolate, the barns are torn down, for the grain is dried up."

The first thing I heard in these lines was the alliteration of the "s" sound. I like how the first three lines explain what happened, and then how the last line reveals why. Literary repetition with the use of "are" and "is" at the end of the lines makes it easy to listen to while clearly stating the message.

"For the day of the LORD is coming; surely it is near, a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness."

By repeating the word "day," this passage expands upon the definition of this event and what the day will look like. The first and second lines end somewhat triumphantly, leaving the reader expecting more. The second two lines end with a lower tone, a lower sound, giving finality to the thought and supporting the thought of darkness.

"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 / and nothing at all escapes them."

This part stood out to me because of the use of "them" in each line. Similar to the pattern of the previous lines, they have an up, down, up, down, down sort of sound to them at the end of each line, with the last line again having an ending sound to it. Also, the use of "before" and "behind" makes the passage flow.

"Their appearance is like the appearance of horses; and like war horses, so they run."

These may be some of my favorite lines in the book. A simile is built upon a simile. The image is concise and the sound is simple.

 

The Colonel.

"What you have heard is true."
One of the first things I noticed about this poem is its style. I love how Carolyn Forche writes in a blunt, factual, and believable way that is also telling, moving, and poignant. This poem is about a visit with a friend to the house of a colonel. The story is told in a direct way with short sentences. One of my favorite examples of this is when she writes, "There is no other way to say this." 


One method Forche uses to keep the flow of the poem going is to list things without using the word "and" before the last item. When I read these sentences, it felt different than it would have if they had more definite endings. It adds to the poem's direct style and made me want to keep reading. Here are some examples that show this style and also have meaning to add to the poem.

"There were daily papers, pet dogs, a pistol on the cushion beside him." It is interesting how she lists a pistol in the same breath in which she speaks of normal, even expected, things to have in a family--newspapers and dogs. This is telling of the tumultuous times of the Nazi rule. People had to be prepared to protect themselves. Who knows who that pistol would injure, when it would be needed, or who it had already hurt?

"We had dinner, rack of lamb, good wine, a gold bell was on the table for calling the maid." Again, the last item in the list is less related to the previous ones. But this one I am more confused about. Was it common to have maids during WWII? What's the significance of mentioning this?

As in the example above, some aspects of this poem that have left me confused or unsure. The cop show on TV is in English, but a commercial comes on in Spanish. What, if anything, does that have to do with human rights?


"The moon swung bare on its black cord over the house."
I love Forche's imagery. This sentence makes me feel like it is nighttime. The dark sky is suspending the bright moon, giving a cool glow to the otherwise black night. 


"The parrot said hello on the terrace."
This line made me laugh. I can just imagine the parrot talking during the middle of an uncomfortable political conversation at the house of a colonel who has a gun just laying around.


I think the purpose of the poem starts emerge at this point. The colonel returns with a bag and dumps its contents onto the table. It is full of dried human ears. I am still trying to figure out why he puts one into water, making it look "alive" again. It's disturbing. It's cruel. It's inhumane. I might have gotten sick if I had to see it in person. But Forche reveals the Colonel's thoughts: "As for the rights of anyone, tell your people they can go f*** themselves." So many possibilities are running through my head. Has he done this to those people? Is he just acknowledging that people's rights are not always accepted and respected? Has he given up on believing people really have rights? After the colonel carelessly brushed the ears to the floor, he sarcastically said, "Something for your poetry, no?" Is he saying it's not worth talking about? Is he implying poetry is not a valid method of discussing issues, revealing truths?


"Some of the ears on the floor caught this scrap of his voice. Some of the ears on the floor were pressed to the ground."
This was the most awakening part of the poem for me. Some of the ears landed upright, others landed facing the floor. It is as if Forche is writing for those ears, for the people who they once belonged to. She is writing to reveal what they heard but couldn't--didn't get the chance--to share. She is hearing what they hear, what they don't want to hear, and is going to make people aware of it. 

Short Story: Leaving.

The past few months were lived in preparation and expectation for today.  Today would begin the next four months of her life. Trying to find sufficient places for the few remaining necessities, Sarah Williams found her usual methodic packing style giving way to the demands of space. Her bright red suitcases just wouldn’t fit much more.

All summer her plans had revolved around this internship, an overseas trip in Rome, Italy. She needed the experience for school, and deciding to travel so far and see new things was exciting. All the months of saving money were about to allow her the opportunity to visit different places, adventures she would take when she wasn’t working. But now it was actually about to happen. “Am I really ready for this?”

All different types of thoughts filled her mind as her excited anticipation was interrupted by reality. She didn’t know anyone in Rome. “I really do want to do this . . . to leave home and live in a foreign country with people that speak a different language. Right?” Certainly Rome would be quite different than her small home town just outside of Colombus, Ohio. She didn’t know what her new temporary home would be like, who her roommates would be, or how she would get around. “At least the food should be good. I better not come back fat!” She didn’t know what kind of work she would be doing or who she would be working with.

Brushing her golden blonde hair over her sun-kissed shoulders, Sarah looked in her own mirror for the last time as she finished getting ready. Seeing her own light brown eyes looking back at her reminded her how mixed her emotions were right now. “I wonder if I’ll stick out as an American . . . ?” Based on her reading about Italy, she was expecting most of the people to be dark haired and olive toned. She wondered how the guys would react to her physical differences. But then again, “How different will I actually be? Is it going to be hard fitting in, feeling comfortable, in such a different place?” She had never been to Italy or anywhere else in Europe for that matter. She turned on her favorite upbeat music to distract herself for the moment.

Although this trip was Sarah’s decision, commitment, and responsibility, it somehow became a family affair. In the few weeks prior to her departure, everyone wanted to prepare Sarah in his or her own way, giving bits and pieces of what they thought to be valuable advice for a young traveler. However thorough and sensible she was, they couldn’t leave all the preparation to her alone. This experience was too new, too unfamiliar, too unpredictable. Her normal habits of planning and thinking didn’t seem to matter, though she assured her family she would be just fine.

Her dad had turned into a history buff, sharing all sorts of information about Rome that he could find in his spare moments at work. The Papacy had become his favorite topic of conversation. “We’re not even Catholic.” Obviously Rome is full of history, but her dad had taken it upon himself to make sure she knew enough about this city before she arrived. Her older brother seemed most concerned about the nightlife. He wanted her to have fun and experience the life of the Italians, whatever that meant. Her mom kept adding things to the packing list—swim suit, winter parka, vitamin C, an extra tube of toothpaste, note cards, you name it. “You never know what you’ll need!” Sarah was pretty sure she would be okay if she forgot something; but then again, what are mothers for? Even grandpa chimed in. He wasn’t thrilled about his only granddaughter taking off all alone. It didn’t matter that the company was well-reviewed by other students, parents, and universities or that they were well trained in introducing American students to the Italian city. She would need pepper spray and an array of maps, he said. He even bought her an international cell phone to use “in case of emergency . . . or when you really miss me.”

Focusing on the present again, Sarah felt prepared—at least on paper. Everything was checked off her list. She had to be ready. As her parents drove her to the airport, those moments of silence gave her a renewed excitement, a resolved composure.

Her mom was going to miss her cheerful laughter. Her dad was going to miss his golfing companion. Sarah was surprised when she didn’t find herself having to fight back tears as she said goodbye to her parents at the airport. “Shouldn’t I be crying right now? I always cry. I’m going to miss them . . . but I guess I’m ready for this.”

There was something about this short event we call “leaving” that made Sarah realize she needed to find her own courage. As much as her family wanted to prepare her, she knew it was up to her to embrace the coming months. What she appreciated most about their advice was that it showed her how much they care about her.

Though the flight was quite long and she knew no one on the plane, Sarah wasn’t lonely. She began seeing stories behind each face. Some were stories of natives returning home. “I wonder what it’s like to call Italy home . . . is that what it will be to me by the time I leave?” Others seemed to hold professional stories, men and women traveling on business. “What will I learn from working in Italy?” And still others reflected stories similar to hers—wonder, anticipation, interest.

Sarah’s story was just beginning. Her first sights of the Italian landscape from above made it very clear that she had so much to see. Her first step onto the airport tarmac in Italy was one of thousands that she would take while becoming acquainted with the historic city. She thought of her dad when she saw the Coliseum for the first time. She smiled when she found the extra toothpaste in her suitcase. She wished her brother were there to help her find the best local restaurant. “I think grandpa’s maps are actually going to come in handy . . .”

Sanjeev.

[looks. job. education. family.]

Sanjeev is a Hindu man from India. He is 33 years old and described as having an average build and height. He works at a firm in Hartford, Connecticut, and holds a position high enough that he has “a secretary of his own and a dozen people working under his supervision.” He does well at work and is “being considered for the position of vice president.” He appears to be smart and well educated, having earned an engineering degree from MIT. In the story Sanjeev displays his college textbooks and we learn how much he enjoyed and values the years he spent in college. I get the feeling that he misses these days. Although the story doesn't state it clearly, I would guess he comes from a very traditional Indian background, based on his expectations of himself and his wife.

[personality.]

Sanjeev’s first words in the story (“Throw it away”) reveal the pessimistic side to his character. He is observant and detail-oriented (“. . . the fireplace mantel, which needed, Sanjeev observed, to be dusted”). He is orderly and meticulous—“[organized] his engineering texts from MIT in alphabetical order.” He likes things to be nice and clean—the mantel, the attic, the baseboard—and even picks up cigarette ashes off the floor. He is factual and likes things to be explained exactly as they happened (“he knew for a fact that she didn’t spend all day at her desk . . .”). He is somewhat self-conscious and definitely concerned with what others think. This concern can be seen throughout the story by his objection to the Christian objects because he is afraid people will think it means he and his wife are Christians. Sanjeev is also stubborn, uncharmed by the Christian paraphernalia that all the others seem to enjoy or appreciate.  

[behavior and influences.]

Sanjeev bases much of his actions out of what he thinks he is supposed to do. He doesn’t know if he’s really in love, but he got married “at the urging of their matchmakers” because he had plenty of money and didn’t want to be lonely. His behaviors are routine and somewhat predictable. He sticks to what he knows. He likes things to be done certain ways; he becomes irritated when Twinkle leaves her undergarments on the floor, and he cannot understand why she won’t write down a recipe for the yummy meal she made. His behavior may be influenced by some picture he has in his mind of how a learned, successful Indian man should live. He even goes through the trouble to cook Indian dishes every weekend.

He seems concerned with impressing people. He introduces Twinkle by her Indian name, Tanima. He worried that they wouldn’t have enough champagne. He dreaded what people would say about Twinkle’s findings. He used his fingers to eat chicken only when he thought no one was watching. He felt the duty to make sure people had enough to eat and drink all night. He wants others to be impressed by him, and this drives certain behaviors.

[self feelings.]

Sanjeev takes things personally and lets little things (such as his “girly” eyelashes) take away his confidence. He does not like his "plump" cheeks any more than those noticeable eyelashes. This insecurity continues throughout the story; he wishes he felt more manly and “distinguished.” He discourages his wife from wearing high heels so she isn’t equal to his height. He doesn’t “know what love [is]. He wishes he could get excited by the little things in life like Twinkle does, but he can’t; he doesn’t get it, and “it [makes] him feel stupid, as if the world contained hidden wonders he could not anticipate, or see.” 

[feelings towards Twinkle.]

Sanjeev really wants to love Twinkle, but he doesn’t know if he does. Little things about her bother him every day. He wants to feel manly next to her but he’s not tall enough. He wishes she could be the typical Hindu Indian woman that he had always envisioned, but she isn’t. She doesn’t know how to prepare Indian foods without recipes, and even then she never cooks them. She talks on the phone when the long-dsitance rates are most expensive. In the story Sanjeev’s character introduces these negative aspects about Twinkle (in ways such as, “Sanjeev observed . . . ”). He doesn’t like her interest in the objects or that she finds meaning in them. However, when he hurts her, he feels sick; he cares about her enough to end the fight rather than let her cry. 

[marriage expectations.]

In his marriage Sanjeev wants a typical Indian housewife by his side. He wants her to cook traditional meals, go by her traditional name, embrace her religion, and make him feel like a man. Because he is so concerned with this idea, he is held back from living fully instead of accepting who he is (and who she is) and making their own path together. He wants his marriage to show him what love is.

[obstacles.]

One obstacle Sanjeev faces is the fact that he does not seem to have any close friends. The people they invite over for their housewarming are colleagues or acquaintances. They don’t really have a close support system of friends or family. Another challenge is that they are Hindu but live in a Protestant community.  

[conflicts.]

Sanjeev struggles with being the person he's been taught that he should be. His mind is constantly going, always noticing the negative things and unable to loosen up. He thinks rigidly, but he wishes he could appreciate things in different ways. Another conflict is his struggle with love...its definition, behaviors, meaning. An external conflict is the struggle between his and Twinkle's views of the Christian objects. 

[attitude towards the world.]

On a larger scale Sanjeev often relies on others’ opinions to guide his thinking. Instead of approaching the world boldly, he often doubts. He wants to fall in line with the image he thinks he should live out. He forms his opinion on Mahler’s Fifth Symphony based on what he read about it. I think this is because he is ultimately worried about what people all around him think about him. He does not see the world as a huge opportunity or a place in which to grow. Instead, he sees it as ordered and expecting him to do certain things.

"This Blessed House"

I enjoyed the writing style, thought-provoking elements, and story line of this short work. The opening sentence ("They discovered the first one . . .") let me know right away that this story would at least somewhat revolve around whatever kind of object this was. I soon learned the object was a little statue of Christ. Twinkle finds similar objects throughout the story, but her husband Sanjeev hates them. From a spiritual perspective, I view these objects first and obviously as representations of Jesus. God is all around us . . . If we take the time to notice, we see His power at work in the people we see, the air we breathe, the beautiful skies, and in all of nature.  

But so often we let these things bother us; we act like Sanjeev. The rain frustrates us when we don't want to get wet. We let people hurt us and may not want to forgive. We refuse to find God in the things He places around us. We let a division come between us and God or others. Sanjeev didn't want to know anything about the Christian objects, poster, light switch plates, or statues. He didn't give himself the chance to understand the beauty they represented, the truth in them, or the story behind them. His attitude against the objects even caused his first angry fight with Twinkle.  

It's interesting, though, because he is the one who found and purchased the house. And every time he tries to get rid of one of the objects, it does not go well. One time he scratched glass, others he fought with Twinkle.  Yet she sees the objects as blessings. It's as if he cannot see the beauty around him. When he becomes angry about the Virgin Mary statue, the skies are blue and the trees are full of beautifully colored leaves; and he still chooses to let the statue cloud all of this.

Twinkle.

Her name is very fitting.  She's cheerful, friendly, free-spirited, and maybe somewhat irresponsible.  She enjoys the simple pleasure of finding these objects and is not concerned with impressing people or with what they may think of her and Sanjeev. Unfortunately this is one thing that directly bothers Sanjeev; he cannot relate to her in these areas.

Sanjeev.

Sanjeev may be caught in a web of what he thinks he ought to be.  He is Indian; he wants to eat proper Indian food and continue Hindu religious traditions.  He struggles with feeling like a man (maybe by comparing himself to the definition established by his heritage and culture), even wanting Twinkle to not wear heals so she's shorter than him. He introduces Twinkle by her Indian name. Instead of his life showing what he stands for, he wants the appearances to handle it. For him it would be easier to eliminate the Christian objects rather than to have to explain them.