I was listening to Rascal Flatts the other day and it reminded me of my summer in Italy.
There's a lot going on in my mind and I'm sorting through some stuff right now, and some of it hurts.
I remember watching the movie Bewitched (cheesy, I know, but hey, it starred Will Ferrell...), and near the end Samantha's dad advises her to "go home" to sort through the stuff that was going on in her life. She was, well, a witch, and reminded her father that she didn't have one. He then told her to go to the place where she was ever felt the most happy.
Not a lot about that flic actually made me think, but that comment did. I realized that after the summer that I spent at the Mulino camp in Caserta, Italy near Naples, going back to Italy will always feel a little bit like going home.
There was a lot about that summer and about being in Italy that was difficult that summer, but overall I never felt more alive than when I was there and with my Italian friends and "family". I was so happy in Italy. By the end of the summer I was ready to sell everything and stay. I almost did. But I finished school instead.
I went there with my aunt and uncle and five of their kids (and a couple of extras) for three months to repair and fix up Il Vecchio Mulino--a summer camp that was flooded that May before we got there. We worked with a couple of Italian churches with which the camp was affiliated and helped with a big international (American/Italian) festival that happened near the end of the summer.
I went to help with the manual labor at the camp and translate. I loved it. My Italian wasn't spectacular when I went, but I learned so much while I was there and never tired of speaking it. I still light up whenever I get the opportunity to converse in it, which is not often.
One of my other duties was to do the dishes for the family everyday, twice a day, by hand. I actually liked it. And everyday, for every meal we would eat out on the patio and listen to country music during the meal. Then, I would do the dishes and listen to Rascal Flatts.
"Fast Cars and Freedom" unfailingly, every time I hear it immediately transports me to the huge kitchen in the Mulino, singing with my aunt and cousin Hannah and enjoying the beautiful Italian summer weather. I was listening to it the other day, and I began to think about Italy. And I haven't stopped thinking about it for the last couple of days.
I guess it's because I'm going through a transition time in life not being in school and wondering what the next adventure is and everything that makes me think back to that time when I was the "most happy" and think back to a place that would be "home" apart from the home in which I grew up. It's a way of wanting to escape difficulty perhaps, I don't know. But, I began to realize once more how much I loved and miss Italy. I began to think of all the things that I miss about it. I can't wait to go back. The following is a list of a number of things I miss about the place.
I miss:
-Simona, Serena, Erica, Roberta, and all of the girls that let me into their lives while I was there.
-All of their families, and more.
-The dumb red chairs at the Casoria church that we had to install on the hottest day of the summer.
-Waiting up until Midnight with my cousin to see the Mafia drive by everynight, and falling asleep to chick flic DVDs.
-Doing the dishes to Rascal Flatts and Lonestar everyday.
-Water fights with Simona.
-Wading chest deep in the creek to clean it out and freaking out whenever we'd see a watersnake.
-The Pund's, the American family that lived full-time at the Mulino.
-The ivy and other greenery that climbed the walls of the 1000 year old building that we lived in.
-Yelling at the neighbor kids in Italian.
-Hanging out on the roof.
-Cramming 11+ bodies in a 9 passenger van.
-Gelato
-Living next door to a Pizzeria.
-Pizza Margherita
-Marco Gemma, the Italian kid that lived with us for a month at the Mulino.
-Playing soccer with the Italians.
-Pasta.
-Singing in church in Italian.
-Caffè all of the time.
-Sleepovers with my Italian girls.
-Peaches and Wine.
-Watching my uncle pause and belt out "You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman" while working.
-Laughing and laughing and laughing with my cousins (esp. Hannah and Billy....)
-Being dragged all over the place to translate something.
-Sweeping the dusty Mulino ALL THE TIME.
-My cousins making a formation around me and Hannah so the Italian boys couldn't check us out.
-The fresh fruit and hard bread.
-Talks about God with my Italian girls and Cecily Pund. Amazing.
-The passion that I encountered in just about everyone there.
-Heating arguments in Italian.
-My Italian hairdresser. ;-P
-Gaudy jewelry that I would never wear here.
-My Italian tan.
-Pushy street vendors and friday markets.
-The smell of downtown Naples.
-Public transportation in Rome and all the toll booths on the "free"ways.
-Ipercoop.
-Italian potlucks. Mamma Mia!
-Saying "Mamma Mia" all the time.
-Kissing people on the cheek to say hello (most of the time...).
-Day trips on the weekends to Sorrento.
-Getting sick of going to Rome.
-Helping the Pund girls with their homeschool work.
-The Mulino. Everything about it.
I was talking to my aunt the other day about that summer. I think we all miss it. I hope I can go back and live there someday, maybe even at the Mulino. I miss Italy. Or, better put: "Come mi manca l'Italia!!" I can't wait to go "home". Ci ho lasciato il mio cuore in tutto.
-T. Emerson
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
High Standards (?)
(Written August 2007)
My dad told me once that I had high standards for people. I wondered for a while what exactly he meant by that and wondered if he was right. I asked him about it later and he said that I expected people to live what they believed and back up what they say with their life, because I expect myself to do the same thing. He was right. He also said that not everyone was like that, and to be aware of that. I didn't want to.
My sister once told me that I have a very strong sense of injustice. She threw me off guard when she said it because I instantly knew she was right and I had never before articulated that about myself even cerebrally. My mom was sitting right there and began to nod her head without a moment's hesitation. They're all right, really--My dad, mom and my sister. I'm not sure whether to hate these things about myself or not. I guess the issues of high standards and strong sense of injustice are more than marginally intertwined, eh?
I see now, in retrospect, things and people that have happened in my life that prove both my "high standards for people" and this apparent "strong sense of injustice". I'm beginning to see now as well how some frustrations in my life right now have to do with that, and I don't know how to change it.
Why can't people just do what they say they will? Why can't they just live by their ideals? Or, at least, admit it when they fail and then get back up again and keep trying. I guess that's most important to me: the effort to make one's words and ideals correlate with his/her actions on a day to day basis or a verbal acknowledgement of failing whenever it occurs.
However, In my "defense" I guess you could say, I do tend to assume the best about people at first. I don't just expect them to be/do what they say, but I assume that they do. And then I often get disappointed. And/or hurt. But I assume the best about others (or try to) because I would want them to do the same for me. So, for me not to do so would be hypocritical of myself.
So I willfully remain naive about many people, for such reasons. But I do fail sometimes. Actually often. Sometimes I don't give people the benefit of the doubt when I should. But when I do, I want to be called on it. I want those around me to tell me when I'm being hypocritical because I don't want to be that way. Friends want friends to become better people, right? But never does this mean that one doesn't love them implicitly--warts and all. I need help, and expect those closest to me to give input.
So then comes the part when I assume that everyone else has the same "benefit of the doubt" philosophy for others in life and get hurt when the reality that my dad warned me about hits. A lot of people say one thing and do another. We all do. This sucks.
We're flawed. We're a freaking flawed race. It's heartbreaking. Everywhere, if one pauses long enough, I think that we can all see the way some, if not a lot of things should be and aren't. Things "should be" one way and then you throw people in the mix and it screws everything up. We screw everything up because we can't be what we want to be. Or we are what we want to be, and what we want to be is utterly all about us. Did that make sense?
There are two types. There are those whose ideals and/or belief systems say to put others first. Because, in reality, if life were all about each one of us and each one of us only, it just wouldn't work because our lives are so intricately intertwined and webbed, really. Our actions DO, in fact, affect others and it's impossible to not live with ramifications of that fact. Impossible.
Then there are those that ignore such a little reality and proceed to live their lives looking out for "1" at all times and mow through life, sometimes at the expense of others--plowing down those around them.
I realize that these are two extremes, and maybe we all have moments in either category, but these different poles of life philosophies must be considered. Self-examination must occur to make this world a better place. It starts with me. It starts with you. It starts with the individual. Is anything ever truly corporate if every last individual does not participate? Everyone must do their part. And it's frustrating because there's no way to make that happen. Which end of the life philosophy spectrum do I fall on today? Yourself?
We're flawed. We can't judge one another about it either, because we're all that way. I believe it pretty strongly.
It's ugly isn't it? I just think that it would be a lot better place if we could all assume the best about one another because then I think we'd all desire more to live up to that....I may have high standards, but I'm still not so sure that they're too high.
I know this sounds incredibly idealistic. And perhaps this is written with more Pathos than Logos, but I'm throwing it out there for discussion. And thought. I guess I'll keep brewing this one...
My dad told me once that I had high standards for people. I wondered for a while what exactly he meant by that and wondered if he was right. I asked him about it later and he said that I expected people to live what they believed and back up what they say with their life, because I expect myself to do the same thing. He was right. He also said that not everyone was like that, and to be aware of that. I didn't want to.
My sister once told me that I have a very strong sense of injustice. She threw me off guard when she said it because I instantly knew she was right and I had never before articulated that about myself even cerebrally. My mom was sitting right there and began to nod her head without a moment's hesitation. They're all right, really--My dad, mom and my sister. I'm not sure whether to hate these things about myself or not. I guess the issues of high standards and strong sense of injustice are more than marginally intertwined, eh?
I see now, in retrospect, things and people that have happened in my life that prove both my "high standards for people" and this apparent "strong sense of injustice". I'm beginning to see now as well how some frustrations in my life right now have to do with that, and I don't know how to change it.
Why can't people just do what they say they will? Why can't they just live by their ideals? Or, at least, admit it when they fail and then get back up again and keep trying. I guess that's most important to me: the effort to make one's words and ideals correlate with his/her actions on a day to day basis or a verbal acknowledgement of failing whenever it occurs.
However, In my "defense" I guess you could say, I do tend to assume the best about people at first. I don't just expect them to be/do what they say, but I assume that they do. And then I often get disappointed. And/or hurt. But I assume the best about others (or try to) because I would want them to do the same for me. So, for me not to do so would be hypocritical of myself.
So I willfully remain naive about many people, for such reasons. But I do fail sometimes. Actually often. Sometimes I don't give people the benefit of the doubt when I should. But when I do, I want to be called on it. I want those around me to tell me when I'm being hypocritical because I don't want to be that way. Friends want friends to become better people, right? But never does this mean that one doesn't love them implicitly--warts and all. I need help, and expect those closest to me to give input.
So then comes the part when I assume that everyone else has the same "benefit of the doubt" philosophy for others in life and get hurt when the reality that my dad warned me about hits. A lot of people say one thing and do another. We all do. This sucks.
We're flawed. We're a freaking flawed race. It's heartbreaking. Everywhere, if one pauses long enough, I think that we can all see the way some, if not a lot of things should be and aren't. Things "should be" one way and then you throw people in the mix and it screws everything up. We screw everything up because we can't be what we want to be. Or we are what we want to be, and what we want to be is utterly all about us. Did that make sense?
There are two types. There are those whose ideals and/or belief systems say to put others first. Because, in reality, if life were all about each one of us and each one of us only, it just wouldn't work because our lives are so intricately intertwined and webbed, really. Our actions DO, in fact, affect others and it's impossible to not live with ramifications of that fact. Impossible.
Then there are those that ignore such a little reality and proceed to live their lives looking out for "1" at all times and mow through life, sometimes at the expense of others--plowing down those around them.
I realize that these are two extremes, and maybe we all have moments in either category, but these different poles of life philosophies must be considered. Self-examination must occur to make this world a better place. It starts with me. It starts with you. It starts with the individual. Is anything ever truly corporate if every last individual does not participate? Everyone must do their part. And it's frustrating because there's no way to make that happen. Which end of the life philosophy spectrum do I fall on today? Yourself?
We're flawed. We can't judge one another about it either, because we're all that way. I believe it pretty strongly.
It's ugly isn't it? I just think that it would be a lot better place if we could all assume the best about one another because then I think we'd all desire more to live up to that....I may have high standards, but I'm still not so sure that they're too high.
I know this sounds incredibly idealistic. And perhaps this is written with more Pathos than Logos, but I'm throwing it out there for discussion. And thought. I guess I'll keep brewing this one...
Monday, September 10, 2007
Juste une petite prière pour l’été
Chèr Seigneur,
Comme Tu sais tres bien, Seigneur mien, ce boulot me "work over" à l'instant. Toutes ces choses, et je veux bien dire toutes choses pour le moment me font chier. J'ai un capot qui me monte au nez, l'autre me plait trop et cela c'est un autre issu tout entier.
Les guests sont ennuyeux, pour m'exprimer avec un peu de politesse. Ils sont gros et vieux, prèsque tous qui descend le train, le tout petit train où je travaille. Ce qui m'ennuie le plus Seigneur, c'est que ils ne sont plus des individus à moi, ils sont plutôt comme des vaches! On les assemble en troupeau sur le train, leur fait manger, et puis les rassemble en troupeau pour le descendre encore--et puis on le fait tout de nouveau! Trois fois par jour!
Et j'adore les gens. Je déteste avec d'une grande passion que je ne puisse pas les connaitre plus loin de ce qu'ils veulent manger, et s'ils veulent peut-être aussi du dessert. Je me sens que j'ai de la chance si je peux même leur parler un peu d'où viennent-ils. C'est tout trop pour moi: "je ne vais pas blaguer!"
Quoique toute chose m'agace pour l'instant, ce n'est point niable que j'ai beaucoup appris et découvert sur moi-même dans cet expérience.
D'abord, j'ai aperçu que j'ai besoin d'avoir un métier ou je puisse investir en les autres avec lesquels je travaille. Je veux les bien connaitre avant d'avoir "fini" avec n'importe qui arrive dans ma voie professionelle. Est-ce que c'est egöiste vouloir changer les gens, les influencer pour le mieux? Cela me "pleint"--pleint mon âme si on peut le dire, lorsque j'arrive à pouvoir faire cela avec quelqu'un. Vouloir faire penser à des gens à travers un bon rapport ou paroles parlées dans le contexte de bonnes et même parfois profondes conversation, c'est ce que j'adore.
Cela ne me parait pas a se passer présque jamais. Sauf avec ceux avec qui je travaille. J'éspère vraiment que je garderai des amitié que j'ai fait ici, quelques-en en tout cas.
J'ai bu plus cet été que j'ai jamais bu dans ma vie. Et j'ai fumer peut-être même plus. Zut. Et ce que je ne regrette pas, c'est que je ne le regrette pas vraiment, et je le ferais encore. C'est quoi, ça? Qu'est-ce on y fait, Dieu? Comment serai-je changée lorsque je rentre? C'est pour le mieux? Je suis "grandie" un peu, je le sais, mais, certainement non spirituellement. Mais cela viendra, non, Père? Je te prie que oui. Tu me manques un peu, mais j'ai une idée que le rapport avec Toi à l'avenir sera tout mieux à cause de ce que j'ai experimenté ici. Ce n'est pas que je ne t'ai pas du tout "connu" cet été, c'est juste que je n'ai pas été si proche à Toi que j'aurais préféré être. Tu le sais bien, Seigneur.
Il y a certes des "thèmes" pour l'été, et je dirai, Seigneur, et la patience en serait un. Tu veux non seulement que j'aie de la patience avec des gens que je sers, mais aussi avec ce que Tu fais toi dans et avec ma vie. Zut, cette "patience" particulière dont je parle est vachement difficile pour moi, non? Je dois toujours te comprendre quand je veux ou je suis conne de tout! Et j'en suis desollée. Aie de la patience avec moi. Je sais que je ne dois pas la demander, Tu en es. Merci de ça. Est-ce que je comprendrai un jour...? Est-ce je ferai grande faute? Comme je fais chaque jour maintenant, je suppose. Mais est-ce que je vais faire des choses que je regretterai pour toute la vie qui reste? Aide-moi, ah mon Seigneur! J'en ai tant besoin.... Tu le sais mieux de toute autre personne....
Je t'aime. Et je veux apprendre t'aimer avec toute ma pauvre vie.
-T. Emerson, celle qui veut vivre une folie plus ou moins logique.
Comme Tu sais tres bien, Seigneur mien, ce boulot me "work over" à l'instant. Toutes ces choses, et je veux bien dire toutes choses pour le moment me font chier. J'ai un capot qui me monte au nez, l'autre me plait trop et cela c'est un autre issu tout entier.
Les guests sont ennuyeux, pour m'exprimer avec un peu de politesse. Ils sont gros et vieux, prèsque tous qui descend le train, le tout petit train où je travaille. Ce qui m'ennuie le plus Seigneur, c'est que ils ne sont plus des individus à moi, ils sont plutôt comme des vaches! On les assemble en troupeau sur le train, leur fait manger, et puis les rassemble en troupeau pour le descendre encore--et puis on le fait tout de nouveau! Trois fois par jour!
Et j'adore les gens. Je déteste avec d'une grande passion que je ne puisse pas les connaitre plus loin de ce qu'ils veulent manger, et s'ils veulent peut-être aussi du dessert. Je me sens que j'ai de la chance si je peux même leur parler un peu d'où viennent-ils. C'est tout trop pour moi: "je ne vais pas blaguer!"
Quoique toute chose m'agace pour l'instant, ce n'est point niable que j'ai beaucoup appris et découvert sur moi-même dans cet expérience.
D'abord, j'ai aperçu que j'ai besoin d'avoir un métier ou je puisse investir en les autres avec lesquels je travaille. Je veux les bien connaitre avant d'avoir "fini" avec n'importe qui arrive dans ma voie professionelle. Est-ce que c'est egöiste vouloir changer les gens, les influencer pour le mieux? Cela me "pleint"--pleint mon âme si on peut le dire, lorsque j'arrive à pouvoir faire cela avec quelqu'un. Vouloir faire penser à des gens à travers un bon rapport ou paroles parlées dans le contexte de bonnes et même parfois profondes conversation, c'est ce que j'adore.
Cela ne me parait pas a se passer présque jamais. Sauf avec ceux avec qui je travaille. J'éspère vraiment que je garderai des amitié que j'ai fait ici, quelques-en en tout cas.
J'ai bu plus cet été que j'ai jamais bu dans ma vie. Et j'ai fumer peut-être même plus. Zut. Et ce que je ne regrette pas, c'est que je ne le regrette pas vraiment, et je le ferais encore. C'est quoi, ça? Qu'est-ce on y fait, Dieu? Comment serai-je changée lorsque je rentre? C'est pour le mieux? Je suis "grandie" un peu, je le sais, mais, certainement non spirituellement. Mais cela viendra, non, Père? Je te prie que oui. Tu me manques un peu, mais j'ai une idée que le rapport avec Toi à l'avenir sera tout mieux à cause de ce que j'ai experimenté ici. Ce n'est pas que je ne t'ai pas du tout "connu" cet été, c'est juste que je n'ai pas été si proche à Toi que j'aurais préféré être. Tu le sais bien, Seigneur.
Il y a certes des "thèmes" pour l'été, et je dirai, Seigneur, et la patience en serait un. Tu veux non seulement que j'aie de la patience avec des gens que je sers, mais aussi avec ce que Tu fais toi dans et avec ma vie. Zut, cette "patience" particulière dont je parle est vachement difficile pour moi, non? Je dois toujours te comprendre quand je veux ou je suis conne de tout! Et j'en suis desollée. Aie de la patience avec moi. Je sais que je ne dois pas la demander, Tu en es. Merci de ça. Est-ce que je comprendrai un jour...? Est-ce je ferai grande faute? Comme je fais chaque jour maintenant, je suppose. Mais est-ce que je vais faire des choses que je regretterai pour toute la vie qui reste? Aide-moi, ah mon Seigneur! J'en ai tant besoin.... Tu le sais mieux de toute autre personne....
Je t'aime. Et je veux apprendre t'aimer avec toute ma pauvre vie.
-T. Emerson, celle qui veut vivre une folie plus ou moins logique.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Poem: Impressionism
Tis not the time of life
To be merely suffered through
Tis rather to be savoured--
Every moment known as true.
The Painter has a vision
To which the Canvas is not privy,
Tis only for the Canvas,
Her postion to go on living.
She wimpers all the while, impatient
Wondering what the Painter sees
He smiles and continues, just pliant
He to has plead with her to be.
He talks her, from time to time,
To remind her that He loves her
This small creation in the making,
Forgets often that she's authored.
Adoring ever is this Painter,
More so than his subject
Who forgets to love the process
Of becoming what she is to be.
T. Emerson
To be merely suffered through
Tis rather to be savoured--
Every moment known as true.
The Painter has a vision
To which the Canvas is not privy,
Tis only for the Canvas,
Her postion to go on living.
She wimpers all the while, impatient
Wondering what the Painter sees
He smiles and continues, just pliant
He to has plead with her to be.
He talks her, from time to time,
To remind her that He loves her
This small creation in the making,
Forgets often that she's authored.
Adoring ever is this Painter,
More so than his subject
Who forgets to love the process
Of becoming what she is to be.
T. Emerson
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Change. Again.
I'm beginning to become familiar with this feeling. A slight awareness of a new small "emptiness". The feeling that something left--not just somebody, but something with them--walked out of my daily consciousness and it is missed. Nick left today, and so did Jesse. Nick for boot camp, and Jesse for Iraq. Therefore today I am once again reminded of the acute but low frequency feeling of "loss".
In this case it is a "loss" of not really a loved one, for no one presently is deceased in my immediate family. Rather it is the "loss" of normalcy in the home in which I, we, were raised: Change, with a capital C. Embrace it or not. Weep or not, it's here. The Past walked out, and Change took it's place. Then, I suppose, as soon as Change becomes customary and fades into Normal, he will become the Past and a new Change will arrive. This is Life. Progress? Sometimes. Difficult? Nearly always, for me. I wish it weren't, but it is.
I wish that I could embrace (the "good") Change whenever he comes, recognizing his value, excited about what he has to offer. For every time, he is here to stay until he morphs into Normal, and I don't dislike him always in the end. I've not yet learned to do this, though.
But really, should I? This is the stuff of life. Pain, love, etc. The stuff of life is appreciated by the opposition and juxtaposition of the proverbial "mountains" and "valleys" that we experience. I would never know the sweet victory of success and fulfillment of a dream, for myself or someone else, if I did not endure change and allow Difference to settle in and adapt to its environment. I want amazing lives and realities for my brothers, Change must work his magic first for this to occur.
Change is amoral. It hurts sometimes--even when it's for the better--and is exhilarating at others. And it can make one feel any myriad of emotions on this spectrum of such between pain and ecstasy. It can be good or bad--the quintessential example of an amoral abstract noun: Change.
The fact is that it IS. The alterable factor though, in the entire equation, is how it is managed, handled. God, let me be godly.
In this case it is a "loss" of not really a loved one, for no one presently is deceased in my immediate family. Rather it is the "loss" of normalcy in the home in which I, we, were raised: Change, with a capital C. Embrace it or not. Weep or not, it's here. The Past walked out, and Change took it's place. Then, I suppose, as soon as Change becomes customary and fades into Normal, he will become the Past and a new Change will arrive. This is Life. Progress? Sometimes. Difficult? Nearly always, for me. I wish it weren't, but it is.
I wish that I could embrace (the "good") Change whenever he comes, recognizing his value, excited about what he has to offer. For every time, he is here to stay until he morphs into Normal, and I don't dislike him always in the end. I've not yet learned to do this, though.
But really, should I? This is the stuff of life. Pain, love, etc. The stuff of life is appreciated by the opposition and juxtaposition of the proverbial "mountains" and "valleys" that we experience. I would never know the sweet victory of success and fulfillment of a dream, for myself or someone else, if I did not endure change and allow Difference to settle in and adapt to its environment. I want amazing lives and realities for my brothers, Change must work his magic first for this to occur.
Change is amoral. It hurts sometimes--even when it's for the better--and is exhilarating at others. And it can make one feel any myriad of emotions on this spectrum of such between pain and ecstasy. It can be good or bad--the quintessential example of an amoral abstract noun: Change.
The fact is that it IS. The alterable factor though, in the entire equation, is how it is managed, handled. God, let me be godly.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Poem: Ransom My Mind
Ransom My Mind
Desires I possess, yet a calling I must follow
Always must they quarrel, endlessly for naught
A dance together falling, encroaching every thought
Till one the other dominates, taking his own lead
Until now everything is well, says this to the near other
And suddenly without warning lets his partner to smother
'Tis time I had a word or two, to tell me a conclusion
For if have I have not such thing, my reason will give way
To keen and quivering desires, that quarrel me day by day.
T. Emerson
Desires I possess, yet a calling I must follow
Always must they quarrel, endlessly for naught
A dance together falling, encroaching every thought
Till one the other dominates, taking his own lead
Until now everything is well, says this to the near other
And suddenly without warning lets his partner to smother
'Tis time I had a word or two, to tell me a conclusion
For if have I have not such thing, my reason will give way
To keen and quivering desires, that quarrel me day by day.
T. Emerson
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Keating's Desk and and Overture
I just reviewed the film "Dead Poet's Society" just the other day, for the first time in a while. A proclaimed (by myself) classic. A story of coming of age, what it means to live life advantageous of its transient nature and your personal potential simultaneously, the tension between individualism and tradition, and most of all the power of a mentoring relationship. The film is moving. It makes its point--or points, rather. I've not yet tired of it. There are several scenes that are particularly thought provoking, but one of them in particular struck me more this time than it had in the past, though not until later.
The whole film is set at a boy's school called "Welton Academy" that stands for and upon the "pillars" of tradition, honor, discipline, and excellence. Mr. John Keating is new in the year of 1959--the academy's centennial--a graduate of the school, ex-president of the not very well-reputed (but dormant) Dead Poet's Society and the new English teacher. It takes a bit of time for some of his boys to catch on to him, and not all of them do. His endeavor is to teach and encourage his students to think freely and for themselves. More than anything, he encourages them to dare to be themselves, not succumbing to the stride of the "norm" but to walk with their own--or not walk at all. These were up and coming ideas in the 50's, as the second generation modernism school of thought (no pun intended) was giving birth to the next: the aptly termed era of "post-modernism", in which the world of academia still abides today.
One day during class, the man stood on his desk. His students awkwardly looked around the room at their classmates for cues on what to think and how to react to yet another one of their literature instructor's extremely unconventional active metaphors. He made each one of them take turns standing on his desk, looking around the room to note how differently things looked from that standpoint. Keating was trying to make the point that there is nearly always another way to look at things. That, not only must one always be just be open to another perspective, but such a thing must be purposefully sought out. On anything.
This was a scary point of departure from the ideal of the traditional and rational Welton approach to life, indicative of the American Way of the day, that seemingly began with everything empirical and tangible. This new ideal embarked on the ambiguous and--even more frightening--the pursuit of self-exploration. This is the point the whole film is trying to make. "Find yourself", it says through Keating: "Carpe diem." And Keating succeeds. The story's ending proves that some of the professor's students grasp finally the values that he has tried to pass on, even though he is forced to move on. It gives goosebumps, the ending. If you haven't seen the movie, go watch it. It boasts no waste of time that some Hollywood products unwittingly offer. It'll make you think, I hope.
I had a desk experience a couple of days after watching the movie again that made me think about the value and excitement in looking at things in a new way. It's nothing big, but it made me think.
I was looking at the word "overture" when I was downloading some songs from iTunes. It dawned on me where the word came from. (I give you permission to chuckle at me right here if you know me, for if you do you surely will) It comes from French. The french word "ouverture" means "opening". I know it sounds incredibly nerdy that such a small and obscure epiphany would excite over a page of loghorrea on the subject, but it made me think. Linguistic discoveries are a passion for me, but apart from that this particular small serendipity served to remind me to stand on the desk sometimes.
I had (I'm not making this up) always thought the word a strange one. The fact that the opening song of a film would have a special three syllable word dedicated to it's purpose was odd to me. But this time, when I looked at the word, and asked where it may have come from, dug a little deeper, I was rewarded. It makes total sense now!
God gives me these little moments, I think, sometimes to remind me of the things He wants me to remember. Looking at life and all people, places, things and ideas found therein in any different fashion and seeking out new perspectives on anything big or small can be immensely rewarding. Thanks to Robin Williams rendition of Mr. John Keating in the canonical film of the Dead Poet's Society (go watch it) and the no longer so strange word of "overture" I stand recently reminded to stand on my "desk" and dare to pursue new perspective.
The whole film is set at a boy's school called "Welton Academy" that stands for and upon the "pillars" of tradition, honor, discipline, and excellence. Mr. John Keating is new in the year of 1959--the academy's centennial--a graduate of the school, ex-president of the not very well-reputed (but dormant) Dead Poet's Society and the new English teacher. It takes a bit of time for some of his boys to catch on to him, and not all of them do. His endeavor is to teach and encourage his students to think freely and for themselves. More than anything, he encourages them to dare to be themselves, not succumbing to the stride of the "norm" but to walk with their own--or not walk at all. These were up and coming ideas in the 50's, as the second generation modernism school of thought (no pun intended) was giving birth to the next: the aptly termed era of "post-modernism", in which the world of academia still abides today.
One day during class, the man stood on his desk. His students awkwardly looked around the room at their classmates for cues on what to think and how to react to yet another one of their literature instructor's extremely unconventional active metaphors. He made each one of them take turns standing on his desk, looking around the room to note how differently things looked from that standpoint. Keating was trying to make the point that there is nearly always another way to look at things. That, not only must one always be just be open to another perspective, but such a thing must be purposefully sought out. On anything.
This was a scary point of departure from the ideal of the traditional and rational Welton approach to life, indicative of the American Way of the day, that seemingly began with everything empirical and tangible. This new ideal embarked on the ambiguous and--even more frightening--the pursuit of self-exploration. This is the point the whole film is trying to make. "Find yourself", it says through Keating: "Carpe diem." And Keating succeeds. The story's ending proves that some of the professor's students grasp finally the values that he has tried to pass on, even though he is forced to move on. It gives goosebumps, the ending. If you haven't seen the movie, go watch it. It boasts no waste of time that some Hollywood products unwittingly offer. It'll make you think, I hope.
I had a desk experience a couple of days after watching the movie again that made me think about the value and excitement in looking at things in a new way. It's nothing big, but it made me think.
I was looking at the word "overture" when I was downloading some songs from iTunes. It dawned on me where the word came from. (I give you permission to chuckle at me right here if you know me, for if you do you surely will) It comes from French. The french word "ouverture" means "opening". I know it sounds incredibly nerdy that such a small and obscure epiphany would excite over a page of loghorrea on the subject, but it made me think. Linguistic discoveries are a passion for me, but apart from that this particular small serendipity served to remind me to stand on the desk sometimes.
I had (I'm not making this up) always thought the word a strange one. The fact that the opening song of a film would have a special three syllable word dedicated to it's purpose was odd to me. But this time, when I looked at the word, and asked where it may have come from, dug a little deeper, I was rewarded. It makes total sense now!
God gives me these little moments, I think, sometimes to remind me of the things He wants me to remember. Looking at life and all people, places, things and ideas found therein in any different fashion and seeking out new perspectives on anything big or small can be immensely rewarding. Thanks to Robin Williams rendition of Mr. John Keating in the canonical film of the Dead Poet's Society (go watch it) and the no longer so strange word of "overture" I stand recently reminded to stand on my "desk" and dare to pursue new perspective.
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