Nature poetry

I can honestly say that class on Tuesday gave me a new appreciation for poetry. Now, of course this doesn’t mean that I understand even half of the poetry that I read, but I can read through it and do the best that I can in interpreting it without detesting it now. I didn’t realize that the Bible has a lot of poetry in it. I think that is because I feel differently about the Bible, and when I don’t understand something I talk to others about it. Poetry however, has never been on my list of things to discuss.

Upon reading our nature poem again, I felt that I could relate to the story a little easier having seen all the visual aids in class on Tuesday. Like Jessica said, it made the story more vibrant and colorful. I really like the imagery and wording in the very first paragraph, and the ones towards the very end.

“Rain lashing the windshield.”

For me, simply the word lashing, makes me view this image in a completely different way then had they used the word hitting, for instance. It makes it so much more vivid, I think. I really like that about a writer. Keeps things interesting. Also, I like how the author actually tells the story. He begins with describing the girl, and then he says that she has this book in her book bag which talks about nature. So then he goes on to tell different things about what that book will tell her about our world and the things in it.

Then when he ends the story, he goes back to the imagery of the girl walking across the street and the crazy rain. I really like this quote:

“What is to be done with our species? Because

We know we’re going to die, to be submitted

To that tingling dance of atoms once again,

It’s easy for us to feel that our lives are a dream-

As this is, in a way, a dream: …”

Then it goes on to talk about bodies being in heaps and such, but I don’t like that as much. However, I think it’s interesting when he says “tingling dance of atoms”. What exactly does that mean? And if we’re doing it “once again” then we must have already done it at least once before, right?

And then what does it mean that “As this is, in a way, a dream:”? How are our lives a dream? Even though I don’t fully understand it, I like it. Maybe I like it because of the way it sounds, or maybe I like it because it makes me think. Either way, all I know is that I like that quote.

Pass

I have decided to pass today :)

PDF

Right off the bat, I liked our little essay we read. I felt like it was going to be humorous and I totally related with the writer! I mean, half the stuff we read I don’t understand, and apparently he experienced the same thing. Of course, what’s different about him is that he probably had actual reason for not understand, whereas I just don’t have that developed of a brain.

The first time I ever had any experience with lectio divina was last year in first teams, actually. Our first teams leader explained to us what it was and the purpose of it, and we exercised it a few times. I feel like this is something that can really benefit us in our spiritual walk, while we are trying to dive deep into God’s Word. I have never thought about doing this with literature other than Scripture. In fact, I ashamedly say that I haven’t thought about it at all since that time we did it in first teams. However, now that I’ve read this essay, it does make me want to give it a shot again.

I wasn’t in class on Tuesday, unfortunately, but I heard that you guys practiced this with the Sonny story. I wasn’t there, so maybe that is why I fail to understand how that could benefit us at all. Personally, I did not like the story we had to read for class, so maybe that is why I don’t think it would have done me any good. I guess I really shouldn’t knock it till I try it though, right? Whenever I re-read the section for tomorrow’s class, maybe I will give it a whirl.

Anyway, back to what I was saying about doing lectio divina with other literature. I think it is an interesting concept that he brought up. I’m sure he’s not the only that thought of it, of course. But I think maybe it would help me to understand some things that I would usually have trouble understanding. Like if there was a poem or something of that nature that I found particularly difficult to understand, maybe if I gave this a try, it would help me to understand it better.

Sonny's Blues

After finishing off this story, my first thought was that I did not like this story. I didn't like the way it made me feel. Recently, a friend of the family’s who also goes to my church, just lost his daughter. And just a couple of months ago, he lost his dad. My heart has been breaking for this man ever since I found out his daughter passed away last week. She was twenty-one years old and died accidentally. This has absolutely nothing to do with the story, but this story for some reason just made my heart so heavy.

I naturally have a sensitive heart. My major is social work. Lately, I feel like there is so much nastiness in the world that the good cannot shine through it. So, this story did nothing to cheer me up.  I just feel so bad for the guy in the story. I feel like he was sucked in to the drug scene, and there was no way for him to get out. It is so true that so many of them that get addicted can never get a release from that. It is just so sad to me. But not only was his drug habit affecting just him, but it affected his brother also. It’s so crazy how that works. There is nothing that we do that doesn’t affect others around us. You could tell in the story that his brother wanted to be able to help him, he just didn’t know how.

I didn’t fully understand the ending. Was he back on drugs or was he finding his way in playing music through other things? I feel like his life story was good enough to be able to play his music well enough. However, I just don’t have the mind of a musician, I guess? So, I don’t know.  

Half way through the semester.

So, I really liked filling out the blogging portfolio actually. It showed me what I need to do to improve my blogs, and I got a chance to read through my older blogs too. I got the chance to do the same thing while filling out the commenting portfolio too. Therefore, I think it was a very productive thing to do. Surprisingly enough.

As I am preparing for the mid-term, I have skimmed through a few stories and re-read the chapters in our literature book. It always surprises me how much I miss the first time I read something. I especially realized this as I was reading the chapters out of the literature book again. Of course, I don’t think I read them well enough the first time, so maybe that is why so much stuck out to me the second time around. Either way, I learned a lot.

I really liked the exercise of reading our short stories together and discussing them in small groups. Everyone had really good stories, and we had great discussion to boot. It was interesting to see how everyone’s personality kind of came out in their stories. A couple people wrote about something that was pretty prominent in their lives at the moment. With me, even though I didn’t necessarily write about something specific going on in my life, a few things came through that I didn’t even realize until after I read it again later on. I thought that was kind of cool. Like I subconsciously wrote about what I was feeling. It was a good experience to hear other people’s thoughts on each other’s stories. It kind of gave us new and different perspectives on each story. Some people saw it differently than the writer was intending and some just agreed with the writer. Anyway, I personally liked the exercise a whole lot, and to begin with I was sort of dreading doing it because I didn’t want to write a story and then I didn’t want to read it to other people! But it all turned out good. J

Short story.

The house smelled of cinnamon. Cinnamon was her favorite smell. Don’t ask her why though, because she couldn’t tell you. All she knew was that cinnamon smelled more magnificent to her then the most beautiful flower ever did. She contemplated going out and buying a car freshener with a cinnamon scent. Why was she thinking about this? She should be focusing on what her mother was telling her about her extremely distant Aunt Jo. But her mother just rambled on and on, and Shelly didn’t have that great of an attention span, so it was nearly impossible for her to pay attention to every word she said. Her mother should know that though. After all, she had to deal with her husband who was exactly like Shelly in that aspect.

Shelly was unique. She was beautiful with her glossy dark brown hair and hazel eyes, but this wasn’t what made her unique. After all, there are many beautiful girls in the world. Shelly had the sweetest temperament and forgiveness came as naturally as breathing, yet that wasn’t what made her unique either. Shelly was unique, just because. Just because God created her that way. There was something about her that was just off. Not off in a bad sense, but just off. Period. End of story.

After her mother had finished her spiel, Shelly ran out the door hoping to get away before her mom came up with something else to be said. As she was driving across town to do a little last minute Christmas shopping, she blared the holiday music that usually so quickly got on her nerves. Today though, it was just what the doctor ordered. She kept an eye on her speedometer making sure not to go more than 5 over the speed limit. She felt it safe to go five over the speed limit simply because her dad had once told her that police will typically think it’s okay if that’s all you’re speeding.

Little did Shelly know, the events that would take place in the next ten minutes would change her life for the rest of her days on this earth. As Shelly was going around the curve that would take her to her destination; another driver coming in the opposite direction, too impatient to ride behind the semi, hit her head on. Since the other driver was going well over five miles over the speed limit, the impact was brutal. Both drivers were rushed to the hospital in what seemed like critical condition.

All Shelly could think about was her parents and her car. She felt fine but the way the paramedics were carrying on, she was almost certain something was seriously wrong with her. So she prayed. However, it wasn’t a prayer for herself.  She prayed that her parents would be able to find the ability somewhere in their hearts to forgive her for completely wrecking their new car. She knew it was one of her father’s favorite possessions. Even after she had been in the hospital for nearly twenty minutes, the assistants were still thinking the worse when it came to Shelly’s condition.

However, upon further examination at the hospital, Shelly was quite okay besides the plethora of scratches and bruises. The other guy was not in as great of shape. He was currently in a coma, and had severe brain damage. With Shelly being in the same hospital as the other driver, she went to visit and pray over him every day. She knew that God was going to heal him, she just knew it. Prayer consumed her days. After she was released to go home, she wasn’t able to visit the man as frequently, yet that did not stop her in the slightest from praying for him.

Shelly felt so close to God in those moments she was praying for the healing of the other driver. She could almost see the faces of lives that were going to be saved, by the miracle that was going to take place. She would write down Scripture that dealt with healing and God’s power, and recite them throughout the day.

Upon returning to the hospital one day, she found the man’s bedroom empty. The nursing staff informed her that he had passed away the night before. Shelly was in complete shock. She had felt that God was going to heal him. She had known it deep inside of her. How could he be dead?

Over the next couple of weeks, she cried herself to sleep every night and asked God the same questions over and over. How could I know for certain he was going to be healed and the fruits not take place? Why? No answers were given. Normally, such a happy and positive person, Shelly became complacent and frustrated and quick to snap back at anything said to her. It was obvious to her parents that something should be done to help Shelly, but it wasn’t as obvious as to what that should be.

Shelly did some deep soul searching. She felt lost, confused, and alone. She didn’t want to forsake her belief and love of God, but that is where she felt herself headed. Shelly couldn’t hear God speaking to her anymore. When she read the Bible, the words no longer held any meaning. She had so many things going through her head, and none of them were good. She felt this loss like it was the loss of her own flesh and blood.

Then, she smelt cinnamon. In that instance, it was like a full spring of hope welled up inside of her. She didn’t know where it came from, just like she didn’t know why she loved the smell so much. All she knew was that she had just been refreshed. It was like a revelation without any questions actually being answered. She felt a peace. A peace that passed all understanding. It was almost like a presence, that couldn’t be seen or touched, just felt. And she felt it with every part of her being. This was something that could never be forgotten.