Pillow- An Annotation

“The night begins

With the first beheading

Of the jasmine, its captive fragrance

Rid at last of burial clothes”

Author Li-Young Lee in his poem “Pillow” ends with that stanza. Throughout the poem you can understand his symbolism, but what I wanted to know more about was his choice to use the jasmine flower. I did know that the jasmine is a popular flower for women in Asian countries, as they like to wear them in their hair, but I wondered what that had to do with this particular poem. According to Kathleen Karlsen, an internet author, the meaning of a jasmine flower is “attachment, sensuality, modesty, grace and elegance” (Karlsen, web).  Knowing the meaning behind the jasmine, I found the poem making more sense. The entire poem Lee is talking about his life, how he was constantly moving and being whisked away in the night. His family never settled in one place for long. Due to this fact, he was not able to have real freedom. Even his ability to speak was hindered; he did not speak a full sentence until he was three years old. Throughout the poem you have this sense of restriction and a life almost on the run. There was nothing stable in his life. Knowing this and the background of his life, the symbolism of the jasmine is so deep and alludes to his detachment from things. In essence, Lee is saying his nights or moves always start with the cutting off of attachment. These nights were anything but graceful and elegant. Not only does the jasmine have significant meaning behind it, it was also relevant and symbolic to his culture. Jasmines were used as a decoration of beauty, reflecting gentleness and modesty, but he uses it in this story to illustrate the exact opposite of that. Beheading is to cut off from the source of life. Being attached to a place or a person is the source of our emotional life. I believe this could even be taken as far as to say he felt cut off from his culture upon his move to America. Nothing in his life was easy, and for me personally knowing his history and knowing the meaning behind one of his most famous poems, I have a new appreciation for his writings and how they are influential in our society. We may not all have lived a life that we had to be whisked away in the night, but we can all relate to the point that at one time in our lives, we felt detached from our culture, our family, our friends, and even our own selves.

                                                

                                                                  Works Cited

Karlsen, Kathleen. Livingartsoriginals.com. Living Arts Enterprises, LLC 2007-2010. Web. 24 February 2011. 

(I have NO idea if this is cited correctly. I was not sure exactly how to do it, if it is wrong, please tell me so I can fix it and not get fined.) 

A Work of Artifice

Does a bonsai tree know when it's "growing in an attractive pot" instead of "on the side of a mountain"? Something that appears to be so beautiful and luring, as the gardener sweetly tells the tree it's better off restricted. And that is how it starts. Slowly, in disguise. The gardener makes this life look so promising, using manipulation to gain your emotions under his control. Everyday he whittles back your freedoms. Little by little, taking away your right to have an opinion, to think for yourself, and using twisted lines, like "If you loved me, you'd do it". 

This weeks reading hit a soft spot in my heart. Our discussion in class on how the bonsai tree represents a woman and the oppression that she is going through was very revealing. Each line has a specific purpose and it builds up to this message, almost in code, of what is actually happening. And how true that can be. Women who are in abusive relationships use a code to say something without saying it. 

People in our society who live in oblivion to abusive relationships are just that: oblivious. They "don't understand how the girl didn't see it coming" or if "that was me, I would have gotten out sooner". Do they ever stop to think that maybe that girl or that woman did not choose to be in an attractive pot and cut down to nine inches tall, when she could be her full height on the side of a mountain with room to grow? 

What people don't know is- I was that girl. I was that bonsai tree being sweetly crooned too, slowly, and assuredly having my freedom taken away. You don't ever plan to be in that situation. But all the while, these gardeners see what their doing. They want to make you small and weak, masking the abuse in what they call love. 

Throughout the entire poem and through our discussion in class I found myself relating. I wonder how many people in our class actually know what it feels like. I wonder if they all walked away the same. Or maybe, just maybe, they walked away wondering how to improve their own relationships, maybe even thankful for the ones they have. Its stories and poems like this that should help us evaluate the good we have in our lives. For me, it made me realize just how far I've come. I've been uprooted from my pot and I'm on my way to my side of the mountain. 

Cathedral.

Prejudices. We all have them. Whether they are sub-conscious or realized, we all have at least one. I will venture to say that being with or communicating to a person with a disability is a universal prejudice. We feel awkward. We don't know what to do. We treat them as if they are not real people.


In the story, Cathedral, written by Raymond Carver, a couple take a blind man into their home. The wife had been a friend of Robert's, the blind man, for years. She had worked at one point in time for him, and fast forwarding about 10 years, Robert comes to visit her and her husband after his wife Beulah died. The husband, who narrates the story, states from the start that he is bothered by having a blind man in his home. He states the obvious prejudices; blind people move slowly, they never laugh, and they need "seeing" dogs. From the moment Robert arrives in his home, the husband is distant. He allowed his preconceived notions to determine what this man would be like. Throughout the story there are various instances where he stays silent because he feels as if he has nothing in common with the blind man.

But there comes a point in this story where the man is forced to make conversation and a connection with the blind man. His wife had gone upstairs, and the two of them were left alone to overcome the unspoken barriers  of judgement. This invisible line of separation was broken when the blind man asked the narrator to describe a cathedral. Feeling as if he can't explain it, the husband starts to get frustrated. It was a moment of realization; how can you explain something to someone who has never seen? To someone who does not have a clue what you mean? Robert asked the husband to sketch a picture of the cathedral. He wanted to place his hand over his, to feel the movement to try and see in his mind what it looked like. It was the silver lining. The narrator was beginning to un-see. He closed his eyes as well in order to understand what its like to have to come up with an image of something you've never seen. It was the moment of relating.

As I was reading this story, I couldn't help but notice these things. I felt as if God was shining a spotlight on my weaknesses of treating people with disabilities as if they are not normal. And I know it is not just me. Come on, now. No one can read this and say they've never judged someone with a disability. But as I was reading this story, I realized just how brilliant these people actually are. I question, who was actually blind in this story? Was it the narrator who couldn't see life as it actually was, or the man who had a physical blindness? It made me realize that our society is disabled. We are disabled in the way that we can't relate, and we don't try to relate to people who are different than us. We allow preconceived opinions of people to stop us from building relationships with others. Its not what makes us different, but rather, what makes us the same.

I'm leaving this story feeling challenged to recognize my own disabilities, and hoping I have the strength to be love to others despite them. Our blind society need to learn to un-see as well, so we might see things as they actually are.

Hills like White Elephants.

Dear Conflicted Girl,

He may not see it, but I do. He may not care, but I know you do. He may not be torn in his conscience, but I can hear it in your voice, you're torn. Torn between the love of your life, and torn between what that love created. You sit there trying to drink away the feeling; attempting to down your doubt like downing a glass of beer. Your boyfriend tries to persuade you. Persuade you in every way.  To try this new drink, to go to this place, to abort that baby inside of you. You want to make him happy. But will you be happy? To lose something that you've made a part of your life, or to lose something that is actually one with you.

Someone close to me was in the same situation once. The roles were a little reversed, per say. But in the end, the situation is still the same. I've seen how abortion changes lives. Killing "a hill of white elephants", something pure and innocent, leaves a permanent scar. At the time they thought they were doing the right thing to save their relationship, but in the end, it only wound up tearing them apart and losing their child. To this day it is a decision both of them regret deeply, and everyday it is a struggle for this man to forgive this girl. And everyday this girl struggles to forgive herself.

I'm not telling you what to do. But I am asking you to consider your life, your baby's life. You're afraid to lose a man who makes your decisions for you. This is your choice. Scars of people coming in and out of your life heal; scars of losing someone you love are always there, they just get buried with time. Keep believing in white elephants. Keep seeing things in your own way. Don't let someone taint what you see and what you want.

You're sitting beside two rail lines. Each going a different direction. You are there with the intent of going one way, but don't be afraid to consider the other. Make your life your own. Follow what you feel inside.

Sincerely,
A Concerned Friend

Great.

After reading the devotion, "None so Obscure", I felt left to ask myself a question: what legacy will my life be leaving? But the more I pondered this question, the more it brought other questions to mind, such as: what does it actually mean to be great? who am I living to impress? am I living my life for something of worth?

Several years ago at a Christian youth retreat, our speaker said something that has stuck with me. To be great is to be less. At the time, I never fully understood what that meant, but the older I get, the more I realize the truth in that statement. When you step back and think about it, the people we recognize as "great" are the people who served. People who thought of others as greater than themselves, people who give their lives to the service of helping others. They think of themselves less, and somehow, we view that as greatness. I believe we view it as such because of our model; Jesus Christ. Jesus was greatness is the flesh. But he was also the greatest servant we have ever seen. Our lives are beckoned to be modeled after His, and if that is true, should our lives not be less?

My desire is to be known as a woman of love, compassion, encouragement, laughter, faith, mercy, kindness, and joy. I'm a social work major for the sole reason of I love people. And I want to impact someone's life. To change it for the better. Not because I'm "great", but because of the One who is great inside of my heart. That is what gives life meaning. That is what leaves a mark on this world. People have been talking about Jesus for over 2,000 years...I think that is the coolest thing.