beatitudes and woes

These are two different Gospel accounts of the Sermon on the Mount, which contains some of Jesus' most famous teachings, including the beatitudes. Usually, people refer to the Matthew version if they are preaching or writing a devotional or something. I never noticed the Luke account until a few months ago, but i'm starting to think i might like it better. Let's compare:

Matthew 5:3-12
3 “ Blessed are the poor in spirit,
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
      4 Blessed are those who mourn,
For they shall be comforted.
       5 Blessed are the meek,
For they shall inherit the earth.
       6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
For they shall be filled.
       7 Blessed are the merciful,
For they shall obtain mercy.
       8 Blessed are the pure in heart,
For they shall see God.
       9 Blessed are the peacemakers,
For they shall be called sons of God.
       10 Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake,
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
 11 “Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake. 12 Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Luke 6:20-26
20 Then He lifted up His eyes toward His disciples, and said:
      “ Blessed are you poor,
For yours is the kingdom of God.
       21 Blessed are you who hunger now,
For you shall be filled.
      Blessed are you who weep now,
For you shall laugh.
       22 Blessed are you when men hate you,
And when they exclude you,
And revile you, and cast out your name as evil,
For the Son of Man’s sake.
       23 Rejoice in that day and leap for joy!
For indeed your reward is great in heaven,
For in like manner their fathers did to the prophets.
    24 “ But woe to you who are rich,
For you have received your consolation.
       25 Woe to you who are full,
For you shall hunger.
      Woe to you who laugh now,
For you shall mourn and weep.
       26 Woe to you when all men speak well of you,
For so did their fathers to the false prophets.
NKJV

* all italics and other formatting are the work of the editors of the NKJV, and do not belong to me.

How To Tell I Need a Life #4

I have nothing to do for finals week this year, because i am a graduating senior, and graduating seniors don't take spring finals at my school. What are my plans for this glorious week of freedom, the last week before reality sets in permanently?

Organize my bookshelves, knit, and maybe pick up some more hours at work.

pearls of wisdom 1

In all my world travels, in all my cultural experiences, in my four years living in Boston and studying psychology, in all my self-exploration, reading, and observations, i have learned two things about human nature.

The first is this: Wherever you go, whoever you meet, whatever you do, everyone in the world is exactly the same. People are just people, and no one is any different from anyone else. We all have the same framework, the same foundation. We all start from the same place, and we are all created not only equal, but identical. Everyone is the same.

The second is this: Wherever you go, whoever you meet, whatever you do, no one in the world is anything like anyone else. People come in a staggering variety of personalities and characters, and none of them are the least little bit like any other person. We all have totally different frameworks, different foundations. No one starts from the same place, and we are all created both fundamentally inequal to one another and totally different. Everyone is an individual.

Both of these things are absolute, bedrock truth.

Where the Heart Is

Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest human beings infinite distances continue, a wonderful living side by side can grow, if they succeed in loving the distance between them which makes it possible for each to see the other whole against the sky. 

-- Rainer Maria Rilke

The air wraps around my skin in a heavy, smothering embrace. I feel myself dissolving into the atmosphere – the sluggish humidity absorbing my flesh effortlessly. I float free and slow through the streets of this little town, invisible.

All that tethers me to reality is you.

Even from a distance, you have a hold on me. A tiny beep from my phone, and all of my disparate parts are re-collected in you. Everything that i am is held within everything that you are – from your virtual words on my screen to the realness of you, many miles away.

If not for you, i would become lost in the world, swirling into an oblivion of color and sound, melting into nature. But you are my rock. However far my imagination may take me, you always call me home again.

They say that home is where the heart is. I find my home within every word you speak, every glance that comes my way, every touch. I am at home in the curve of your arm, in the curve of your mouth, in your curving laughter. I am at home in your thoughts, in your quirks, in the miles between us. I am at home in your heart.

You say that your heart is mine. This, then, is love: i have learned to be at home in you, and in so doing, i have found myself at home in me.

less is more

You hear a lot these days about the decline of civilization and literacy as exemplified by the rise of texting as a primary form of communication. People are afraid that this instant, long-distance communication makes it uneccesary for people to talk face to face. And the use of texting abbreviations and acronyms surely prevents children from learning how to read and write properly. Additionally, the quick, short messages (140 characters or so) must be a factor in the ADD epidemic, making it impossible for children to focus on any real literature.

This is all bullshit.

Yes, seeing things like "l8r" and "I dnt wnt 2 do ne hmwrk" makes my teeth itch, especially when this dialect is exported from texting to other forms of communication. But what upsets me more than how people are communicating is what is being communicated. People just say dumb things, and sometimes they also say them in dumb ways.

However, that is a topic for another day. When it comes to the issue of text length and what it does to literature, i think that what we need to do is embrace this new form of communication. Great ideas can be contained in small packages. We just need to learn to harness the power of saying things simply.

Consider the six-word memoir. According to the apocryphal story, the first six-word memoir was by Hemingway. Someone challenged him to write a complete story (full narrative arc, beginning middle and end, etc) in six words or less. Hemingway came back with, "For sale: Baby shoes. Never worn." Boom. There you have years of yearning and disappointment, or perhaps the deepest anguish and loss, or maybe even a simple housecleaning. There is narrative, there is backstory, there is room for interpretation, and something has certainly happened. All in six words.

Another example of this "numbered fiction" (i might have coined that term. I no longer remember.) is the fifty-five word story. It's a similar concept, but with more words.

Both examples require an extremely high level of skill and talent. Every word must do the work of dozens, or even of hundreds. Every word, every comma, must be carefully considered. A six-word memoir is like a sonnet on crack.

I wrote a prose poem once about a long distance relationship that was only maintained through text messages. When that's all you have, you learn to make it work. If you have only 160 characters, only a Facebook status update, only six words, you have to learn to make each one count. Why is this not being embraced as a valid literary concept, as a powerful writing choice? Why aren't we teaching students to write this way?

Let's face it: no one is writing epic poems anymore. They're just not. And if they are, no one is reading them. It's time to embrace the culture. I am NOT talking about lowering standards or expecting less of ourselves. I'm talking about doing more with less.

My Peter Pan Moment

Not the pain of this but the unfairness was what dazed Peter. It made him quite helpless. He could only stare, horrified. Every child is affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks he has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but he will never afterwards be quite the same boy. No one ever gets over the first unfairness; no one except Peter. He often met it, but he always forgot it. I suppose that was the real difference between him and all the rest.
-- J. M. Barrie

The above, of course, is a basic definition of a Peter Pan moment: the moment when a child realizes that fairness is not automatic, and that people sometimes behave unfairly to one another for no good reason.

I think i knew, on an intellectual level, that life is not fair. I'd been told that it wasn't, i'd seen small examples of it, but somehow, it never really sank in. Somehow, i really believed that if i behaved fairly and played by the rules, everyone else would eventually come around and behave as they ought.

When i was fourteen, my boyfriend and i were babysitting during a board meeting at the church. The kids were my siblings and the pastor's young daughter, Kelly*. Joe* and i were sitting with Kelly, playing some game. I don't remember what. Kelly did that thing that little kids do, where they pretend to hit you and you pretend that it hurts, and everyone laughs. Kelly hit me, and i flopped over on my back, tongue protruding, gasping, "I'm dead! You killed me!" Kelly was sitting next to my sprawling legs, and Joe was leaning over us, a good 12-18 inches away from me.

Just then, the pastor's wife Mary* came through. Seeing me on the floor with my tongue out, Joe leaning over me, and her daughter laughing, she automatically assumed that we were making out (or worse. I never found out and never want to know what exactly she thought was happening.)

"Guys, do you really think that's appropriate in front of the kids?" she snapped, as she flitted through the room.

I was confused. I honestly did not know what she thought was happening. Sitting up on my elbows (which brought me about 10 inches away from Joe, who had leaned back as i sat up), i looked at him, befuddled. "What was she talking about?" He shrugged.

Mary came back through the room then, and snapped (even more ferociously), "Guys, seriously! You're supposed to be watching the kids!"

That night, my mom asked me what had happened. Apparently, Mary had told her that Joe and i were behaving inappropriately. I explained what happened, and Mom explained why it had looked bad.

"Mom, we really weren't doing anything," I said, shocked and hurt.

"I believe you. But Mary was upset. I think you should call her tomorrow and apologize."

"I didn't do anything. What do I have to apologize for?"

"Well, sometimes you have to apologize for other people feeling uncomfortable, even if you didn't actually do anything wrong," she explained.

It was too late to call that night, so we decided to call her in the morning. I went to bed, still upset, but hopeful for the morning. I was certain that when i called Mary and explained what had happened and apologized for upsetting her, she would understand that she was in the wrong and would apologize to me, and everything would be all right. I still believed that if you just played by the rules for long enough, everyone else would eventually fall into line. I also believed that if you apologized when it wasn't your fault, the other person would be shamed into realizing their own guilt and would immediately apologize.

The next morning, i went to my mom's room and called Mary. My mom, knowing more about the world and Mary than i did, stayed there to support me. When Mary picked up the phone, i said that i was calling to apologize for and explain the events of the previous night. I told her what had happened, explained that it had been perfectly innocent, and apologized for making her uncomfortable.

Mary said, "Oh, honey, it's okay. You know I love you, and I like Joe, and I'm happy that you two are dating. And I trust you, and don't think there's anything inappropriate about your relationship. I just think that some things are inappropriate in front of kids."

We talked for a few more minutes, and it became increasingly obvious to me that Mary not only still thought that something inappropriate had been going on, but also thought that i was apologizing for my actions, and not for her perception of what happened. (I was apologizing for her misunderstanding. Even as a naive fourteen-year-old, i wasn't about to apologize for something that genuinely never happened, especially since i wasn't entirely sure what she thought had happened.)

When i finally hung up the phone, i burst into tears. My mom held me close as i tearfully related the conversation. She said that she'd thought the conversation would probably go pretty much that way, and was sorry that i'd had to go through that.

In that moment, i learned that people, even adults, don't always play fair. I learned that just because you're playing fair doesn't mean that anyone else will. And i learned that you still have to play fair anyway.

See, your behavior will quite often have absolutely no effect on other people. People tend to do what they're going to do, and will gladly ignore any attempt on your part to stick to the rules if you're not going along with what they want to do.

Sometimes, all you can do is your best. All you can do is make sure that your behavior, at least, is above reproach.

That way, when you go to court, it will be clear that the other person is in the wrong.

"The most important thing to remember when it comes to forgiving is that forgiveness doesn’t make the other person right, it makes you free." -- Stormie Omartian 

*names changed

boarding passes

Sometimes, when i'm cleaning out my purse or suitcase, or flipping through a journal, an old boarding pass will fall out.

I have taken about fifty flights in my lifetime, including layovers. I love to fly. One of my favorite flights happened in 2007, when i took my big Europe trip. It was an exciting time, obviously, and there were a lot of flights in those six months, but i am only talking about one now: the one where i flew over Ireland at night.

Usually, when you fly over cities at night, you see a dazzling display of rainbow brilliance, like the jewelry box of a goddess dumped out onto the ground. The lights sparkle and swirl, dazzling the eye far more than the brightest stars ever have.

But Ireland was long stretches of deep, velvet darkness, with only tiny lights here and there to mark the villages. It was like the night sky on a misty night, almost devoid of stars. I had never seen anything like it.

Henry Drummond, in "Inherit the Wind", once said this about progress (in a truly fantastic speech): "Mister, you may conquer the air but the birds will lose their wonder and the clouds will smell of gasoline."

I understand his point, and as i said, i love the speech, but i have to quibble with him on one point. The birds have lost none of their wonder. Flight is still full of romance.

Which is why i keep my boarding passes. Tucked into my journal or lost in the lining of my duffel bag, they are like roses from a lover, pressed between the leaves of a diary. They are a tangible reminder of my victory against gravity, of my magical wanderings across the earth and through the skies.

Plus, sometimes i forget to throw them away.