Special Post-Message

I chose this piece of literature after realizing that I should not seek for simply one meaning when reading literature. Instead, I should be open to gaining as much information as possible even more than what I imagine. While reading, I felt as though this piece of literature fit perfectly with what I have been experiencing recently and might also be relative to those who read it. This poem aroused various questions that many of us think every day but may also be those questions that many times we tend to avoid. Reading this poem may be viewed as just as some writing or it as an amazing art piece expressed through writing. This poem having been read with an open mind may change and even bring about some sort of transformation.
After having read and reread this poem I wasn’t entirely sure of what the different meanings of this poem were. One could simply restrict the poem’s meaning when just focusing on nature and not viewing it from any other perspective. The end result of that you then have chosen to be ignorant instead of acknowledging and learning from viewing it from different perspectives. Another very powerful thought that Mary Oliver presents is learning to be astonished. I think that thought definitely caught my attention because I had never thought about it before reading it in her poem. I constantly ask myself what exactly learning to be astonished even mean? Then I think, its not forgetting about the little things that come your way. Learning to appreciate a growing mushroom the same way as being blown away by the scenery of an enormous killer whale diving into the ocean as the water reflects the red-orange colors of the setting sun. Also, this poem may mean sending the message of how human and nature surround each other; we all live together. We live rejoicing in the beauty of the earth. Thus saying that the mouth serves as the messenger announcing with joy the greatness of living in this beautiful earth. Appreciating both humans with animals, but also a special emphasis on embracing the beauty of nature. In this poem we are encouraged to rejoice with our surroundings instead of simply complaining. Mary Oliver encourages us to pay attention to our surroundings- to stop and listen. She encourages us to observe and take notice of the beauty within. Overall this poem has helped me realize the importance of using the mouth as the messenger declaring joy instead of always complaining. It’s the mouth that spread knowledge of how great it is to live forever.

Mary Oliver ,
“Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
Keep my mind on what matters, which is my work,”

A few sentences that follow Mary Oliver states that her job is to love the world. Reading this section of the poem almost seems as if she’s worried about her job. Not what her job is but whether she is still apt to doing it well. She questions whether or not she’s qualified or has enough experience to continue her job. She asks if her boots are old and if her coat is torn. She then asks if she is just too old for the job. With all these thoughts in her mind I’m sure she wonders if she will be able to keep up with all that her job requires of her. So many questions flood her mind causing showers of doubt from deep within. Where she was once certain and sure, she now finds herself questioning. How many times do we experience just as much doubt as Mary Oliver. As a college student, one who will be student-teaching in the fall for that matter I find myself asking similar questions as those of Mary Oliver. As a teacher you are required so much inside of the classroom as well as outside, instructing is simply one aspect of teaching. There are certainly other aspects to being a teacher that we usually don’t think about. I ask myself not whether I am too old or if my coat is torn but, whether I am ready for this new experience. I wonder if what I do will be enough to cause them to dream and dream big. I wonder if what I believed I would be like is actually who I will be in the classroom setting? I wonder if its what I think it will be like? I feel as though Mary Oliver and I have similar questions concerning our purpose. Mary Oliver questions her abilities to continue with her job, while I question if I am at all capable to doing a job well done.
I am amazed at how quickly Mary shifts her thinking from questioning whether she is capable of doing such a wonderful job to remembering her focus. Mary’s focus is her job-embracing nature, and loving the world. Though she might not have as much charisma or strength as she once had she set her mind in doing her best. Although her boots were old and her coat was torn she has a great desire to continue observing and appreciating beauty as it presents itself. Mary Oliver passage has helped me come to this realization, although you may be afraid for what is ahead just make sure to not lose sight of your focus. Whatever you have set as a goal or something to accomplish don’t give up although it may seem quite difficult to do and or help. Mary’s questioning and doubt did not stop her from doing her job and therefore should serve as an encouragement for those who doubt and us who constantly question. Get back up and don’t lose sight of what your purpose/calling is.

Love

In the essay written by Dr. Fettke he calls us to love. To not worrying so much about whether we can change a person or find a cure necessarily but just loving them for who they are. Spending time with homeless people has helped me gain a better understanding of what it means to love. As a quick overview, every Friday evening a group of students go out and help serve food and fellowship with the homeless people around Parker Street. This last Friday, my roommate and I spent most of the evening with Mary who recently lost her dad. Having read A Grief Observed, and discussed so much about death and darkness in class I thought I would be able to handle a situation like this. But boy was I wrong. As Mary ran her skinny, calloused fingers through her hair and questioned why me, why me I couldn’t help but hold back tears. I wished I had the answers, I wished I could say exactly what she needed to hear but I just couldn’t find the right words. Over and over she would say to us, “it hurts baby, it hurts so much”. She was hurting so much all we could do was be there for her. My roommate and I both loved on her in whatever way we could think of. As she cried and expressed her heart and thoughts we were able to give her a shoulder to cry on. What amazed me even more was how thankful and loving she was towards us. Through her sobs and tears she took time to thank us for being with her, she took the time to share how much she loved us. Here is this lady who is in so much pain and feeling so much anguish due the the death of her father but still finds an opportunity to love us. As Mary strongly embraced my roommate and held my hand tightly, all I could think of was love. This is love, although we may not have had the right answers or the right things to say just being there with her through her darkness was enough. We prayed for Mary before we left and said good bye.

Love is not always about having the right answers or finding a cure but just being there.

Am I able?

I really enjoyed reading this play and especially visiting AFI. I found both to be great learning experiences. As I read through the play and thought about each one of the characters I was struck at how much these adults seem more like kids. Although they are adults by age and although they might even appear to be adults their mentality is that of a child. In many cases they are not able to do things on their own and need assistance. This experience reminds me of the what I with experience as an Elementary school teacher. I wonder whether or not I am able to handle or am prepared to work work with them. I ask myself whether I will ever feel fully prepared to meet the need of the children placed in my classroom. I wonder if what I do will be enough to meet the child’s individual needs. Will I be able to effectively teach, as well as mentor and most importantly love unconditionally.? Will I be willing to put that extra time and effort to provide the necessary accommodations my student needs? Not doing it simply as a job but as something I am truly passionate about and again doing it all in and out of LOVE? I pray that God will teach me to love as he does. I pray that I may never grow weary in well doing; not seeking to meet my own needs but those around me. And may I never lose sight of God’s greatest to his children-love.

Art

Being at the museum really is a great learning experience. When I go I usually like to go alone so that I can spend as much time as I want on one painting. I tend to linger on a single painting more than my friends which sometimes causes them to become annoyed so I find it best when I go alone. Being in the museum provokes a sense of learning because I am introduced to a wide variety of art work which majority of the time I am not familiar with. As you walk along the Pre-Columbian are and then into the different exhibits/ galleries they have displayed you are able to see art expressed in various forms. Whether its through sculptures, paintings, or ceramic bowls and plates its all art. I think art is just a free expression of one's emotions or thought through their own unique creation. There's really no right or wrong in art,it can be freely expressed. A rely cool aspect to art is that it can be interpreted in various form. What one may think of the Mona Lisa may be the complete opposite thought of another person and still there is no wrong answer. although I don't consider myself to be very artistic I do enjoy art..

One of the paintings which really caught my eye was by Maurice de Vlaminck titled Country Lane 1957. (Its posted above the post) As I admired this painting my thought ran to then come up with this:

As I walk down these streets

My thoughts run as I think of my childhood.

I am reminded of

our neighborhood pets,

and my neighborhood friends.

I am reminded of the soccer games won

and the sidewalk paintings done.

I remember that keen smell-

the smell of mama's glorious pies cooking in the oven

Ready to be shared with those in need of some lovin'.

In those times up an down these streets we was a family.

I wonder where everyone is at now

I wonder if the sweet couple Aby and Michael are well

I wonder if aunt Aida's sprained ankle was feeling better…I wonder.

We were a family but we no longer are.

As I walk up and down these old streets I used to call home

I thick of what could be done

to make these streets someone else's home

To make this

a place of hope

a place of true fellowship

a place to be free and most importantly

a place to call home.

Questions

This handout definitely took me back to the discussion we had as we read through A Grief Observed by c.S. Lewis. Again I was reminder that quick fixes don't work well in times of darkness. You can't just give an easy answer and expect change. It takes time to get through a difficult situation, and it definitely takes more time than just giving a quick answer. I'm not sure what grief feels like but I have experienced some tough situations in which a quick answer would have caused more pain than to actually help me. For me, this serves as a reindeer to not be so quick to answer but to take time to be quiet.

"Important questions create silence"-Laurence Freeman

Such a simple sentence with such profound meaning. As I read this statement it was as though a light bulb immediately lit up; it just made sense to me. If something is important to me, I usually take as much time as needed to think about it. Whether its a decision I have to make or a situation I am faced with, I choose to spend just enough time so that the decision I take will be the best. The same with questioning. In a given case, I would question whether what I am going to will be effective or if their are other possibilities for me to take. The more I think about it the more I realize how powerful questioning really is. In classes I have learned that questioning is such an effective learning tool for all of us to practice. As a suture teacher I have learned to use higher order thinking level questions to ask my student because questioning is so important. And also my students will be strongly encouraged to ask questions whenever doubtful or just because. Question, an effective learning tool for life!

Simple Practices

I find it interesting how much I learn if I would only stop and actually pay attention. In the Notes on Nature and Poetry as Spiritual Practices handout by Professor Corrigan he listed a variety of ways in which we could practice to engage with nature in our daily life. As I read through the list I began checking off ways listed which I have done. Once I was done with my checklist I looked over it and realized that there were so much more ways to put to practice. I had done just a few of what was listed.

I went through the list again and again I was amazed at how simple and easy these practices are. They're not impossible to do but then I ask myself why is it so difficult for me to actually do them. Taking time out to sit under a tree and appreciate the shade I'm receiving from its greatness. When I have the opportunity- paddling a boat on a pond or lake to appreciate and listen to the soft, soothing flow of water. Also, sitting in front of a fish tank to just sit and watch how the fish interact with one another. Observing how they chase each other and how their gills open and close with every breath they take. As I do these things I hope to at least get a glimpse of what Mary Oliver experiences through her poetry. While observing nature, I hope "…Nature is ….where the poet (I), can discover the joy and terror, the sustaining truths and feelings that conventional religion and modern society seem unable to provide"-Anthony Manousos And as I observe nature,may I be able to look deeply into his works because of my love for him just as that of the religious poets stated by Mary Oliver in "Musical Notation". May my love for him be so strong causing me to marvel at the simplest things found in creation. All because it has been crafted by the Craft Master himself.

PIctures

Lake Bonny Park

Going to the park was a great experience for me. After such a long and busy week I usually find it hard to take time and and just be still. I often try to spend time alone but thats not always easy. Being forced to spend quiet time reminds me how much more I should be doing it. Not only was I able to appreciate nature as it shouts for joy, but I was also able to practice a little of what Mary Oliver described in her poem, Six Recognitions of the Lord.In this poem threes a sections where she enters into that place of not thinking, not remembering, and not wanting. As I read through the poem I wondered what exactly she meant by that. I didn't really understand and I may not eve fully understand what she means but either way I decided to try it out for myself. I asked myself what would that place look and feel like, I'm not entirely sure but here's what I got. As I was walking on that paved road surrounded by tall majestic tress on both my left and my right, I had the crazy urge to walk with my eyes closed- which I did. While I had my eyes closed I felt the smooth but yet powerful wind overwhelm me and I could hear the sweet song of the birds accompanied by the swaying of the branches as if they were in a dance. My mind, body, and spirit all felt at ease. I didn't feel as though I had to worry, and I wasn't in a hurry to get things done. I guess I was just in awe of my surroundings.I wasn't thinking about anything because I felt as though there was no need to. For just those two or three minutes of walking with my eyes closed I felt at peace. Maybe thats the place Mary Oliver was referring too. Of that I may not be sure but at least I found my place.

( "I went to Lake Bonny Park for this assignment, and I stayed there for at least 40 minutes.")

****Short Poems*****

As I sit and listen

I am reminded of how great you are

Not just due to a song so commonly sung

but due to the reality of who you are.

The birds of the fields sing for joy

as you supply their every need.

So will I shout to the heavens

for you, are all I need.

As the deer seeks to quench its thirst

My body longs for you glimpse of your touch.

The blue jay sings,

the strong winds cause a wave of joy,

the majestic trees clap in amazement,

the finely dressed lilies bloom in wonder,

and the roaring waters run wild

as the crackling of the dead leaves announce

that new life will soon come.

Blue- the color of the sky

Green- Earth's attire

Yellow- the bright rays of the sun

Brown- the richness of earth

Colors- all displaying the beauty of their maker.

Prayer

“I know a lot of fancy words, I tear them fro my heart and my tongue. Then I pray.”-Mary Oliver

I think there’s so much one can take form this poem, I’m just not sure whether I am able to fully understand it all. Mary Oliver has such a great way of painting a mental picture through her writings which, I really enjoy because it makes me feel as if I’m right there almost. Reading this poem definitely got me thinking about my own prayer life. It also stirred my schemata of similar experiences when I’ve been outside and as I mentioned before, my personal prayer life.

Sitting outside Friday evening without worrying or thinking about anything specific simply practicing how to appreciate nature as Prof. Corrigan so strongly suggest we do, I found myself thinking about a variety of things some which I never really give myself time to think about. What is prayer supposed to look like? Is there a right and wrong way to pray? What does Mary Oliver mean when she enters into that place where she doesn’t think, doesn’t remember, and doesn’t want? Could prayer be, me sitting on a bench, eyes closed simply listening to and appreciating my surroundings? Or should there be some dialogue? I began asking myself these questions to see what exactly I though or believed about prayer. Going to church as a kid you are always taught to pray when you wake up, before every meal, and then before you go to bed. Now a lot of times I don’t even pray before I eat, I just eat! When I was 12-14 years old my friends and I would try to justify not praying before a meal because it was just becoming a ritual and not genuine as it should be. Of coarse that was just so we wouldn’t feel so bad about not praying. Anyways, I guess what I’m coming down to is that prayer shouldn’t be something you feel forced to do but being open and willing to seek God and knowing that He will meet your need as long as you give him the opportunity to do so. It is not about having a right or wrong prayer but it’s speaking straight from the heart; being honest and sincere. It’s not about using fancy words so maybe those around you will think you’re adequate enough to pray for other or lead a prayer aloud but it’s about your own relationship with God. Also realizing that there will be times where dialogue is unnecessary. There will be times when you will enter that place where you will think nothing and listen.

This Blessed House

Twinkle and her husband were quite the characters. As I read, reread, and discussed the story in class I realized how different both characters really are. It almost seems as they are complete opposites. During our class discussion, one of the questions we were asked was, what character do you relate with? Since then I began to ask myself whether I am more like Sanjeev or like Twinkle? As we discussed each character, I noticed how spunky and crazy Twinkle is-maybe too much for me. She’s always exploring the house to find her next treasure. I was reminded of a child looking for a toy. They search everywhere until they find something to entertain them, then they are satisfied. Twinkle was not just searching for treasure but also wanted to display it for all to see and then she would be happy. Twinkle almost seemed to not care as much about the guests that would soon be coming or what other arrangements or fixings needed to be done around the house she was usually in a world of her own.

Her husband Sanjeev on the other hand was always worrying about what needed to get done around the house. He was always rushing from place to place trying to have the necessary preparations ready for when their guests should arrive. He didn’t car for the findings that his wife discovered. I think he almost wished would care more about what needed to be done than those “treasures” she was constantly in search of. Even when the guests arrived he didn’t spend much time with them. He spent most of his time making sure the food never ran out, and cleaning up.

After discussing and thinking about these two very different characters I am still not sure who I relate with. I can be a little crazy sometimes, and my friends can testify that I go overboard with things that I enjoy doing instead of doing what I should be doing. But I am also very careful of making sure that everything goes just as planned. I like to be sure that people feel comfortable when visiting. I guess it just comes down to having a balance. We should not be too careful that we become careless of other things but not too careless because then we just wont care.

During their dinner, Twinkle was entertaining the guests while Sanjeev was making sure there was plenty of food and drinks. He being the character he is cared more about the food than spending time with his guests. As I read this section I was reminded of the story of Mary and Martha serving Jesus. Martha was more like Sanjeev, preparing the food and worrying about everything that needed to get done. Mary seems to be Twinkle, they both sat and talked with their guests. I guess there’s just a time and place for everything, a time to serve but also taking the time to simply fellowship with one another.

A little bit of character

Character as is mentioned in the handout written by Professor Corrigan, states that character goes beyond what people see, it is even more than how people live, act and or do. He later states that it is the process of our spiritual growth in which our day to day character is developed causing our true self to match in God. This semester has led me to believe just that. Not just from personal experience but also by listening to what my roommates, friends and peers have and are going through confirms God’s work in our live if we allow him to do as he chooses. I think the great emphasis on prayer campus wide falls hand in hand. It is through prayer and spending time with God that we are broken, humbled and then restored into what he has already designed. It is laying it all down before God and giving him the opportunity to mold our lives.

This reminds me of the house of cards C. S. Lewis mentions in A Grief Observed. Our lives should always be in that position- where our house is broken time and time again so that God may come in and rebuild just as it should be. That we may never become so sure of ourselves that we no longer give God the opportunity to remove or rearrange things as he pleases, but may our hearts be humbled. Recently someone shared with me that it is through humbling life experience that we are truly humbled. This same person is the president of an organization, and as I listen to the experiences they go through as a leader they always conclude that it has been because of the time they spend in solitude with God that keeps them going. This person expressed that its has been through those difficult and sometimes embarrassing experiences where God has broken their pride, selfishness, where he has broken who they thought they were and began to show them what they are supposed to be. May we always have a willing heart allowing him do to with us as he wants to.

That’s just the little bit of my understanding of character. As I write this post and reread the handout I’m beginning to realize how complex character truly is, maybe one day I’ll fully understand.

Her story

It was one of those days again, where something within her stirred up an emotion, a memory which she tried so hard to suppress. It had not always been like this, Jean usually had good days at work, filing papers, rescheduling and making new appointments, quickly writing down in short-hand everything and anything that came out of the mouth of that old, grey-haired, cranky, feller she called boss. She seemed content. But today being home alone in her apartment was a completely different story. The atmosphere was different, it was here where she didn’t have a job to hide behind, where she didn’t have a variety of tasks or that flimsy notepad titled, Things To Do in which one would find over ten bullet point scribbles listing things to do to keep her busy, there was no way out of Jean facing that which she dreaded most. Today was one of those days where the cuts and sores that have yet to heal bled, causing so much pain and anguish which many times seemed unbearable. As Jean leaned against the vintage designed wallpaper that covered her small but yet cozy apartment living room, she slowly began to lose herself in those thoughts that constantly overwhelmed her. Instantly, her thoughts begin to race bringing up to surface that which she so easily and quickly learned to suppress deep within her core. She feels she is not ready to deal with it today; she wished she didn’t have to deal with it, not yesterday, not today, and not ever. She didn’t know how to deal with the pressure, she couldn’t handle the pain that was caused by it, and she was terribly afraid to get so lost in her thoughts to the point where she would never again be able find herself. As her thoughts continued to run, she was abruptly awakened by a raspy, high pitch screeching sound that came from a of a tree branch being violently blown from side to side and then dragged across her living room window. Regaining her composure, Jean slowly removed her heels and headed towards the window where that screeching sound was coming from. As she approached the window she realized how quickly the sky had shifted from a beautiful cloudless, sunlit sky into a dark, nimbus cloud filled sky ready to release what has been stirred within. Jean also noticed the sparks of bright yellow and purple which looked to be lights flashing, appearing and instantly disappearing throughout the sky and soon after she heard the booming sound of thunder causing her to tremble inside.

Still dressed in her black, knee length, skirt and white, long sleeve, buttoned up, collar shirt Jean needed some good ole chamomile tea maybe then she will be able get herself together again. She walks past her living room and is careful to move her heels further aside so that she won’t trip over them on her way back while carrying a mug with freshly brewed hot chamomile tea. The pot is now on the stove, and the mug Jean’s older sister gave her with an imprinted picture of her family is set on the counter ready to be filled with pure deliciousness. As Jean stretches the most she possibly can and even tries standing on her tippy-toes to reach a tea packet she is unable to do so because just like her mama, Jean is only 5ft. and the tea packets are all place in the top right shelf where she can’t reach. Jean laughs to herself as she stands on the step ladder looking for the tea packet. Carefully stepping down the ladder she replays having seen her mama do the same thing multiple times. Jean recalls her mom having to climb the ladder to reach the spices she needed for the meal she was preparing. At that time Jean found it humorous that her mom had to use a step ladder but now she completely understood. After a couple of minutes the teapot sings loud and proudly announcing the water is ready. Jean then turned the stove off and carefully poured the water into the mug with already the tea packet inside and then adds two teaspoonfuls of sugar, again just as her mama did. Taking her mug between both hands she begins to take small sips in order to fully savor the teas. As she sips the tea Jean recalls vivid memories of her mom leaning against the kitchen counter drinking her tea in a slow pace as to actually savor the tea Jean thoughts are swayed to what it was like when her mother was around. She enjoys reliving those timeless memories of spending hours and hours at her mom’s side eagerly listening to her every word. She also remembers those stormy nights when she would wake up frightened due to a nightmare. Jean would quietly walk into her mother’s bedroom and lay next to her mama’s side. It was almost as if her mama expected her arrival. With such tender care and love her mama would wrap her in her arms, embracing her reassuring that everything would be okay. In that moment, nothing else mattered, no monster could ever get her because she was in mama’s embrace; she was safe. Still drinking her tea Jean sighed heavily as she longed for those days spent with her mom. Jean was very much like her mom although she had much of her fathers character, she had her mom’s well defined cheekbones, beautifully prominent shaped hazel eyes, her mom’s luscious dark brown curly hair that reached the middle of her back, and she had the same distinct mole her mom had to the left side between her upper lip and her nose. Throughout middle and high-school years she became very involved in sports and other extracurricular activities mainly to avoid what was beginning to shake her world upside down. Things were rapidly changing around the house, dad was hardly home, and during that same time she learned that she had a younger brother she never knew about.

Jean placed the spoon in the dish washer and headed back into the living room. By now Jean’s tea was halfway gone but still warm. She sat comfortably with a blanket outstretched on her lap facing the window where she could see the storm taking place outside as she continued with her tea and her thoughts. Jean can’t stand to think of anything else but of the good days spent with her family, when she felt as though she had the perfect family. Anything else she keeps hidden to herself, she almost tries to erase any memory of it so that maybe the pain will be gone too. As she watches the rain drops fall she wonder if one day she will have to spring forth just like those nimbus clouds outside were pouring out what had been constrained inside. She knew that one day she would have to true to herself. Then and only then will she be able to see the rainbow that comes after the rain showers. Even though those thoughts were in the back of her mind Jean felt as though she couldn’t handle the pressure that corned her. Once again her thoughts began to overwhelm her. Not the happy thoughts about her mom but reality hits and hits hard. She can’t handle the pretending, she can’t take suppressing her feelings anymore and she cant bear to tell what happened so the next best thing is to just…

That same grey-haired, cranky, old feller who Jean called boss is now giving a eulogy at the funeral of a young lady who many times kept to herself but was a hard worker and very caring. She never saw the rainbow.

"Sonny's Blues"

“Freedom lurked around us and I understood, at last, that he could help us to be free if we would listen, that he would never be free until we did.”

It’s amazing how time and time again I am reminded of the importance of listening. Whether it be listening to what God is saying during quiet time or listening to those around me; being in tune with something other than myself. I am truly amazed at how much healing and in Sonny’ case: how freedom comes from simply taking to listen and/or being heard. I guess I’ve come to this conclusion through actually practicing listening. This year I have been helping with M_9:35 (homeless outreach ministry on campus), and as we fellowship with the homeless people I realize how much they just want someone to listen to them. A lot of the people are so willing to open up and share life experiences with us; all they need is someone to listen to them. I definitely believe that if we are humbled before God and are willing to be used by him, as we spend time listening to those around us God’s healing and freedom reaches out to them. While fellowshipping with the homeless people I sometimes get teary-eyed because of how powerful God’s love us upon our lives, but it takes listening to help realize it. I have learned so much from listening to the stories and experiences being told by the homeless as well as the heartfelt advice often given. An unforgettable experience which occurred not too long was when a homeless man was sharing his story and he began to sob as he told us his story. He shared with us some of his personal life, his struggles, his concerns, his fears, and we simply took time to listen. As he wiped his tears away with his hand he then began to thank us for taking the time to listen. He said it was just what he needed; someone to listen to him. How many more are in search of freedom and healing? All it takes is someone willing to listen.

The Imaginary Invalid

"I attended Southeastern’s production of The Imaginary Invalid and watched the entire play."

I really enjoyed this comedy. The actors did an amazing job Thursday night as well as the dancers although, I found them to be a little scary…Lol

Throughout the play I though how difficult being an actor must be (at least for me). I think it would be a fun experience but also scary because you have to play your part well enough for the audience to fully understand the role you are playing. I know that they have to practice time and time again until they get it right, but I’m sure they still feel somewhat nervous before a performance.

My favorite character in the play would have to be the maid, Toinette. Her thick, Spanish, accent made me laugh so much (I’m Hispanic too, so it’s okay). The reason why I found her to be so funny is because sometimes I use the same thick accent to talk to my roommate who is definitely not Spanish. I was able to relate to Toinette’s dramatic, hostile, crazy, but most importantly loving and caring attitude she had towards Angelique. Although she might be a little crazy, her priority was to make sure Angelique was happy. Just goes to show that being a little crazy may not be such a bad thing. Actually, it may seem weird saying this but, I think it may be better to be crazy than being normal. If you’re considered “crazy” you may be more willing to try things you might not have done because of what people will think or say. But being “crazy” you may force you to get out of your comfort zone and do crazy things. People will just think you’re crazy, that’s it! Okay, okay…I realize this post is crazy in itself so I’m going to stop now. I guess my point to all of this is: the play was really, the dancers a little creepy but performed well, and don’t be afraid to be called crazy at times because being crazy may not be that bad.

Blogging

I have found blogging to be a great way of expressing my thoughts. It has definitely been very helpful for me just to express what I’m thinking thought I may not know what my point is. It has helped me come to a conclusion or get a better feel of what my thoughts are leading me towards. Sometimes, I may not come to a sure conclusion but that’s okay too.
The discussions we have in class usually have a great influence on what I write in my blog. During our discussion I am able to see the same piece of literature through a variety of perspectives. It’s truly amazing to see how many different views are presented through our discussions. I have gained so much from just discussing literature within our small groups. I am not the best with comprehending poetry so thoroughly discussing or simply listening to the different views already helps me get a better feel for it.
The activities we have done in class really expand our understanding of the literature we are reading. The house of cards, painting, and small discussions have been beneficial to our understanding or interpretation of what we are talking about. At least, it has been for me. These are great and effective strategies to use in any classroom. It not only engages students but also helps them build a stronger foundation for what is being taught. The style of teaching is not just teacher-centered but student-centered. Some kinesthetic learning is very effective to engage student participation.

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

It really was an interesting and very different experience for me. I mean, its not everyday I go and read in the cemetery. What I enjoyed the most would have to be how peaceful I felt as I was there. Though I could clearly hear the sound of traffic and busy streets, I was overwhelmed by how serene it was. So many times we get so caught up in our busy schedules and crazy fast-pace lifestyles that we forget to take time to simply sit in silence; embracing the stillness around us. I know I definitely have to do that more often (maybe not in the cemetery, but someplace where I can just sit and listen to the stillness which surrounds me).

“Too often we resist ambiguity”

Why do we resist ambiguity? Why are we so afraid of not knowing, not having a clear view of what is to come? I’ve realized that often we tend to seek for a sure answer; we want to know how, what, where, when, and why. And when we don’t have the secure answer of what will happen next we automatically go into panic mode. We feel as if a grand piano is being pushed out of a balcony and we are standing in the exact place where the piano will land.

Not knowing isn’t necessarily a bad thing, at least I don’t think it is. So then why are we so afraid of being in a place where we don’t have all the answers? As my thoughts run on and on I begin to wonder whether not knowing might actually be better than knowing. When you don’t know something you are much more wiling to ask for help. When you already know, there is no point to ask for help. I feel as though not knowing somehow keeps us humble. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think we should just conform in not knowing and thus becoming lazy. Absolutely not! I do think that because we don’t know everything we are much more willing and open to receive what is shared, spoken, and/or taught. Whether it’s bad or good we are at least willing to hear both sides and come to a final conclusion, whereas if we already knew we might not have consider both sides and who knows what we might have missed.

Throughout life we will face various situations where we won’t have all the answers but what’s important is just as is stated in How to Read Poetry, “The issue is our reaction…We have to give up our material attitude, which makes us want to posses the poem. We have to cultivate a new mindset, a new practice of enjoying the inconclusive”.

We need to be ready to embrace ambiguity whenever we’re faced with it. Especially as Christians whose trust is set upon the Creator who he alone knows what is and what is to come.

I drew this picture during the class discussion of "The Traveling Poem" by Naomi Shihab Nye. It was also after Prof. Corrigan peeled, cut, and passed a piece of the onion to each one of us. I found the poem to be very creative. The discussion we had in class really expanded my thoughts of the poem. Someone commented how the onion was just as a person and all the burdens one carries. As the knife enters the onion it falls apart, just as in one's life when we carry so many burdens it just takes one cur and we all fall apart and our history is then revelaed. The truth is exposed, and we can then be free. We no longer have to hold everything in and pretend everything is okay but instead we can move foward.

Give yourself

“Return to me with all your heart…and render your heart and not your garments/” Render our hearts and not our garments? Are there times were we simply render our garments and forget to render our hearts? What does it mean to render our hearts? What does it mean to render our garments? Does that apply simply to our spiritual life or to our physical life as well? Is this word for the people of Israel or is it being said to me even now? As I read and reread through this piece of literature I find myself seeking for ways in which I can apply this to my personal life. I realized that to render may also mean to give. In other words, God says to give me your heart and not your garments. But what exactly does that mean?
There are many times that we feel the need to prove ourselves to those around us. We think that in order to be in with the crowd we need to meet the standards the world around us has determined. For example, the kid who has the crooked nose, though he is very intelligent he feels the pressure of society that says, “if you don’t look like the picture we’ve painted then you aren’t worth much.” The beautiful blonde hair and green eyed girl whose dream is to be a doctor is later crushed by the world around her that tells her it is her nature is to be a model and nothing else. Let’s just be honest, in the end what matters is what people think about you and nothing else. Wrong! We all work so hard to try to fit into the perfect mold the world has made up but we forget to hear the call of the one who wants our hearts and nothing else.
Render our hearts and not our garments. Render your mind, body, soul, and spirit. Render your time, render your speech, render your actions, and everything else that you are. I think that’s what God wants from us, not so much our good looks or how much money we have but just who we are. Time and time again God us to follow him wholeheartedly. He says don’t do so much just come as you are. Don’t get so carried away with praying aloud for those around you to hear but come with an open heart. Don’t feel you have to meet the standards of the world to come to me just come wholeheartedly. I feel like God is not so much interested in what we can do but what he will do through us and that’s why he says to give our hearts and not our garments.

"It is your nature"

The poem “A Work of Artifice” was a very interesting poem. When I first read it I had an idea of what it was about but I wasn’t entirely sure. After re-reading it a couple of times and the reading the explanation of what the poem was about I felt I understood what the poem is about. Marge Piercy wrote this poem in reference to the oppression of women. Women are represented by the bonsai tree and men are the gardeners.

Reading commentaries and opinions of what others thought about this poem I noticed that majority were very much alike. Women are the bonsai trees and man is the gardener who constantly prunes the tree so that it won’t grow to its full potential. It is man who feels the need to be in control at all times merely giving if any, room for women to explore beyond their reach. Women are captive to the will of men. Men are the ones to blame. It is their fault why women are viewed as domestic and weak.

Others believe that if women are being treated in such manner it is because they choose to be. Women allow themselves to be torn apart by others; they allow themselves to be treated as a lesser human being. Women allow themselves to be used, and many times they place themselves in situations knowing the outcome. Everyone has the ability to choose to be in whatever state of mind and being they find themselves in. Why then do women continually play the role of the victim and claim they have every right of the misconstrued idea that it is man who made them the way they are; men are to blame.

While those two thoughts are most common and yeah, that poem was written a long time ago, I find myself thinking about the lives of those who have unwillingly been taken captive? For example, the child who is unwillingly placed on stage for all to see her beauty as her innocence is being trampled on. The women who are continually told they are useless, believing it is their nature to be domestic and weak. The young man who has been pruned to be nine inches instead of having the opportunity grow eight feet tall because supposedly that’s all he’s capable of achieving. Would the gardener explain that to be their nature as well?

A House of Cards

During times of pain and torture we usually tend to look for a way out… because really, who likes pain? We rush to solutions, quick fixes, and easy remedies; we want out fast. When a quick solution is nowhere to be found we then panic. We cry out longing for someone or something to come and remove that which is causing so much pain. Our cries become stronger and stronger as so does the pain until it seems unbearable. All that is heard is a yearning to be found and rescued. We long for answers, solutions, and explanations. We want to understand or at least know the purpose of our pain. Our cries become so overwhelming which then, “deafen you to hear the voice you hope to here”-C.S.Lewis. Everything seems opaque; a blur because we cry out without taking time to listen.

How many times have I found myself in that same place? Not due to grief but because of my own self-righteousness. I think I have all the answers, I know what to do when times get tough, I’ve heard other’s experiences-I can handle it, or so I think. There are times when my words sometimes get the best of me. I am too quick to speak that I leave no room to listen. I rush to conclusions and quick solutions, while my voice overpowers what I am in search of. While reading A Grief Observed, I realized that my house of cards needs to be broken constantly. Otherwise, if I’m not careful I’ll end up on my high-horse thinking I have all the answers when in reality, who does? I have learned the importance of being still and acknowledging who God is; taking time to listen instead of always doing the questioning. May it be in those times of pain and grief that I might be found humble and willing to listen. Setting aside any preconceived thoughts and beliefs in order to receive what is being given and to listen with an open mind and heart to what is being spoken. May my house always be shaken so that I might remember to be quiet and listen.

Torture=Truth

“Only torture will bring out the truth.”

I find this statement to be very true. Sometimes we aren’t even aware of what or how we truly feel unless we are under some kind of pressure. We don’t realize the severity of how grief takes a toll in our lives unless we are faced with it. Not just in the grieving process but in everyday life we are stumped not knowing what truth really is until we are put to a test which many times may cause pain.

We often go through experiences which seem unbearable for the time being, but it’s during that time of pain that we can see what our motives, beliefs, and doubts truly are. It is in those times where we will question and seek answers from wherever possible. Times of doubt will certainly come, and our world may be completely shaken inside out, upside-down and all around. We might not think as we did. All pre-conceived thoughts may be proven false, the small flame of hope we had is no longer lit but all we see is the smoke rising from where it was blown off. Then what about what we believed to be true, should hold tight to what we know to be truth or will that too add to the pain of not knowing what truth is?

In the end, may our hope be on the rock of our salvation; the one who holds us in the palm of his hand. He says we are the apple of his eye and if so, may we be steadfast in knowing that he is and will always be faithful. And even through those times of doubt may we be willing to cry out in all honesty expressing our true thoughts and feelings. By doing so may we come to the realization that he is God no matter where we stand or what circumstance we may be facing.

A Grief Observed

Reading this book really displayed a different view of what death may feel like for our loved ones and ourselves. I have never experienced the death of a close relative or friend therefore I am not able to fully relate with what C.S Lewis went through. Because of this book I feel I have a better understanding of what grief may look or be like. I don't I am fully prepared to face it any time soon but it is something I honestly had not thought about. i really enjoyed how honest he is and willing he is to share his own experience dealing with grief. He really does show and explains the reality of grieving. It is not a cookie cutter response or the cliche. Even during his rough moments when he's upset and doubtful he is showing the reality of what one goes through during the grieving process, which not many people are willing to share with such honesty. Many times we think to comfort someone who is grieving is to say that everything is going to be okay and the their loved one is in a much better place but reality is we may not even know that. Grieving is not easy to get over; its not going to be something to simply pat down or give a weak response to- it will all be okay. No, reality is those grieving will become depressed, they will doubt and question, they may even become angry at times. C.S.Lewis makes it clear how normal it is for human beings to grieve. It is a natural consequence of the loss of a loved one.
As I read I wondered why we don't talk about death or grief. One of the reason's i think we tend to avoid talking about grief is because it makes us feel uncomfortable. I'm not saying we should talk about it everyday and take it to an extreme. I do however think that grief is something we should be aware of and know how to deal with. We may not have it all figured out and we may not have all the answers but what if we could do something more to help those who are grieving. Instead of saying what we think they want to here or how we think we will be when we lose a loved one, we are at least aware and can be somewhat ready, if at all possible to deal with it. Death and grieving is reality and it doesn't have to be a bad thing.

Happy Endings

This story really surprised me. So many times due to movies, novels, and other means of the media we are known happy endings to be well.. “happy”/ The media paints a picture of what happy should be or look like but by doing so many times we are then driven away from reality. Reality is that not all love stories will end in a happy ending. Just as in the reading when John the husband shoots his wife Mary, and her lover. Some would justify what the wife and her lover did as okay because the husband was probably doing the same or maybe he just wasn’t meeting her needs; they might have loved each other at one point but not anymore.

In the other case where John never really loved Mary but simply used her to his own pleasure. Mary allows this to continue because she loves John and hopes that someday he will love her in return. In the end Mary ends up taking pills hoping that John would come looking for her but that doesn’t happen. I personally would not have considered this ending to be happy because well, it’s not but it is reality.

Reading through these various options of happy endings I came to the realization that all these tragic stories occur more than we think. Reality is people everywhere are looking for love, to love, and to be loved. Some endings really do end happily where love is being given as much as it is being received. There are other endings where one loves more than the other, others might not even be love but infatuation or obsession. Reality is these stories happen everyday and we don’t even realize it.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Love

While reading the story I found myself thinking and questioning my own beliefs and thoughts on love? What do I know love to be? How is love expressed? What are the actions of love? I also wonder whether It is possible for a “crazy” person to love? In the story, Ed physically abused his wife but he continuously claimed to love her. One could ask, “How is it possible to love someone when you are the cause of their pain”. How can you claim to love someone when you hurt them physically, mentally and emotionally? We have been taught that love is not self seeking but self-less, it is nor rude but kind. How then is it possible for him to say he loves her when his actions say otherwise?

In the same story there is also an elderly couple who were in a tragic accident in which both the husband and wife were badly injured. Due to the accident they were both in casts from head to foot. The elderly woman seemed to be improving whereas her husband seemed to be depressed. When the doctor asked what was wrong the elderly man expressed he was feeling depressed because he could not see his wife due to the cast. This elderly man wasn’t thinking for himself but was more worried for his wife. Even when the doctor informed him that his wife was recovering all he wanted was to see the face of his beautiful wife. Is that how love is supposed to be?

In Ed’s case, I think Ed’s demonstration of love might have been influenced by tough life experiences. Ed probably had a rough childhood. I also wonder if Ed was always like that or if it wasn’t until later in life that he changed. What caused Ed to think the way he did about love. What happened in his own life that misconstrued his thought of love? In the end I wonder even though he wasn’t in his right mind, is he still capable of loving?

LIteracy Profile

My earliest memories of literature are The Three :Little Pigs, Little Red Riding Hood, and Robin Hood. Some nursery rhymes I remember are: Mary Had A Little Lamb, Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes, Skip to my Lou and a couple of Spanish nursery rhymes as well. My most memorable children's book is Do You Like Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss. I clearly remember reading and rereading the book multiple times. As I grew older I disliked reading very much, I hated having to read for homework in elementary school and I thought I would never pick up reading as a hobby or find reading as something fun to do. I was wrong! It was in eighth grade that my perspective of reading completely changed. I began to realize how much I've gained from reading already and how much more there was to learn. I began reading different genres to find which one I enjoyed the most and with every book I read I was always amazed at how much I learned through reading. Now reading has become one of my favorite hobbies.

My most significant literacy text for is Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers. It is an amazing book of God's unconditional redeeming love.

As an Elementary Ed. major I know literacy to be essential in a person's life. Literacy expands the way we think, it opens our minds to new ideas, different perspectives, and views as well as enabling us to make our own interpretations of whatever the text may be. Literacy for younger kids helps develop their imagination and awakens their creativity. That is why i find literacy so important.