Category: Literature

Let It Go

I don’t care to tell people I’m reading Self Help. The term carries a stigma as if I’m sitting here, crying, “Help me!” I’m not. Not that I never have. 54-year-old Crystal has learned to be so much kinder to herself than many of her earlier selves—maybe because of these recent books. If I had read any of them, let’s say ten years ago while experiencing a schizophrenia-low with my son, or back in 2017 when a hurricane flooded me, my family, and lots of things out of our home and we lived in a hotel ten months while rebuilding, or in 2020 when my mother died followed by my dog, or even last year when I experienced a cancer low, the timing might not have connected to an open mind. In my personal experience, if I believe something will work, it will. If I say, “There’s no way,” then I’m also right. This is why words have power—especially the words we reserve for ourselves. So—I would say these books fall into the genre of Self Kindness.

In November, I read The Emotion Code.

  • An entire post @ this link.
  • A one-sentence synopsis: If you hold onto negative emotions, they will become trapped in your body and make you sick, so let them go.
  • My take-away: With God’s help, I started letting go of the emotions that do not serve me, and voila! Life looks brighter.

In December and January, I read Atlas of the Heart.

  • Another post @ the link.
  • Another synopsis: Brené Brown and her team of researchers explore eighty-seven emotions and experiences that define what it means to be human. 
  • My take-away: We’re all human. That means we all make mistakes. That means we must forgive both ourselves and others. So (see The Emotion Code synopsis)—LET IT GO. The research explains our emotions in detail, so we can better understand exactly what to release. A must read.

In January and February, I read The Untethered Soul.

  • I didn’t write a post.
  • Synopsis: LET IT GO, and your soul will be free.
  • My take-away: The more we judge others as well as situations, the more we judge ourselves. Life will have challenges. Release judgement of the challenges and challenging people and self. Pain and suffering are just things. Temporary things. Perhaps God will help if we ask. In my experience, He does.

There were times when reading a couple of these books that I became a little annoyed at the repetitive nature. I could’ve thought, “This is stupid,” and reshelved the book or left it on the porch for Goodwill. Instead, I kept an open mind, persevered to the end, found pieces worth appreciating, and started the next book on the list.

Now I’m reading The Four Agreements. It’s subtitled A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom and A Toltec Wisdom Book. Another must-read in my humble opinion.

The 1st Agreement: Be Impeccable with Your Word

“We must understand what power comes out of our mouths…Your opinion comes from your beliefs, your own ego…When you are impeccable (literal translation “without sin”), you take responsibility for your actions, but you do not judge or blame yourself [or others]…If I love myself I will express that love in my interactions with you, and then I am being impeccable with the word, because that action will produce a like reaction.”

Don Miguel Ruiz

The agreements that follow are all based on the first one, and I’m seeing more LET IT GO:

  • The 2nd Agreement: Don’t Take Anything Personally
  • The 3rd Agreement: Don’t Make Assumptions
  • The 4th Agreement: Always Do Your Best

I’ve noticed that the more I surround myself with good thoughts and energy, uplifting words and people, the more vibrant and healthy and at peace I feel. Of course, there’s always that tiny voice in my head that says, “Let’s see how you’ll handle the next (fill-in-the-blank).” Cue the evil laughter. I’m learning to let that go.

Well, recently I had a biopsy to confirm my clean bill of health. One week later, I received a call that included the words “cancer” and “surgery.” I wrote everything down. On Friday, March 15, I will have a little lumpectomy to scoop out those cells. I’ve known for over a year this would be a possibility, and I feel as if I’ve been training for this moment. I still feel vibrant and healthy and at peace. And to maintain the good, I’m talking with God, letting go of certain emotions, and turning off today’s comments. These are the last things I’ve learned.

Daily writing prompt
What is the last thing you learned?
View all responses

Books and More Books

I need a dedicated bookshelf for the books I’ve not read. I scanned my home in search of them, pulling them from nightstand stacks and windowsills and the top of my desk. There are more boxed up from my classroom collection. Some were highly recommended and some were gifts. Some I bought and some were free. Meanwhile, I’m finishing two. The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store by James McBride (historical fiction) and The Untethered Soul by Michael A. Singer (spiritual nonfiction). I’m enjoying my time with both. I don’t read fast.

Eenie meenie minie moe.
I read half of Ducks, Newburyport long ago.
(Stream-of-consciousness and a single long sentence.)
Would you give any of these books a go?
Maybe you can judge a book by its cover.
In brown paper, this one said, “Yo!”
Lavender didn’t match my stacks.
If I ever publish, good to know.

Yesterday I stumbled across a list of “600 Books to Be Considered Very Well-Read.” If you’ve read 600 books, in my humble opinion, you’re well-read. I’m working toward that, but I counted 120 books read from the list and many authors I want to read— like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and William Faulkner, E. M. Forster and Neil Gaiman, Kazuo Ishiguro and C. S. Lewis. I want to read more Virginia Woolf, Haruki Murakami, Sylvia Plath, Markus Zuzak, Toni Morrison, Vladimir Nabokov, Dickens, Bradbury, and the Brontë sisters. Then there are those times when people say, “You’ve got to read this.” And a new book usurps them all.

The Emotion Code

“Emotions are vibrations of pure energy. Every emotion has its own unique vibrational frequency. Everything in the universe is made of energy, and emotions are no exception.”

Dr. Bradley Nelson, The Emotion Code

A friend of mine recently visited a naturopathic doctor who recommended Dr. Nelson’s book. I didn’t know exactly what it meant to be a naturopath. According to naturopathic.org, “They diagnose, prevent, and treat acute and chronic illness to restore and establish optimal health by supporting the person’s inherent self-healing process. Rather than just suppressing symptoms, naturopathic doctors work to identify underlying causes of illness, and develop personalized treatment plans to address them.”

On November 7, I began listening to The Emotion Code on Audible. I wish I had purchased a copy in print. Still, I took notes and relistened to parts:

Quantum physics shows us that energies are affected by other energies. Three things happen when we experience an emotion:

  1. Our bodies generate emotional vibrations.
  2. We begin to feel the emotion through thoughts and physical sensations. (I feel the good vibes in my dance class. I’m sure many of you well-know the effect of negative emotions.)
  3. We may choose to let the emotion go and move on. If not, the emotion is trapped in the body. The more overwhelming or extreme the emotion, the more likely it will become trapped.

I had these ideas on my mind when Kody and I headed to Galveston on 11/11 for our anniversary.

Let’s say for example, Kody gets bent out of shape while driving, and I feel his emotional vibration. My affected energy no doubt rebounds back at him, and then we’re stuck in a needless loop of bad energy.

For our anniversary, I was determined to let my emotions go and move on, and you know what? Kody and I had more fun than we’ve had in years.

On November 16, I listened to the chapter called “Healing with Magnets.” The book includes many testimonials. One complaint, a few too many. One man had injured his knee. He needed surgery, decided against it, but tried magnet therapy based on a friend’s suggestion. After five days, he felt no difference. On the tenth day, he felt no pain. He continued wearing magnets for the next two months. X-rays from three years earlier revealed a lack of cartilage and bone on bone. To his doctor’s astonishment, new X-rays showed that the cartilage in his knee had somehow regenerated. The magnet is energy. Quantum physics shows us that energies are affected by other energies. I decided to give the magnet a try.

I followed the doctor’s instructions, asked God for divine help in releasing anger and resentment, and placed a 4″ by 4″, flexible refrigerator magnet left of spine where I’ve experienced pain and felt a lump for five years or so. I wore leggings that day, and the magnet fit perfectly inside my waistband. I wore it all day. The doctor said that the magnet magnifies your thoughts. I spoke to God and believed.

A gift from my cousin. The magnet that worked. Straight from my refrigerator.

 “ 7 Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. 8 For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”

Matthew 7:7-8

I’m perfectly aware this all sounds farfetched, but my pain was 97% gone after one day, and the lump was less lumpy. Faith is believing what you cannot see. If you go looking for miracles, you just might find them.

I’ve been letting go for about three weeks now, focusing on love and gratitude, and talking with God about certain situations where I stubbornly resisted help before.

My daughter told me about a movie on Netflix called Best. Christmas. Ever. If you’re into Christmassy movies, it’s heartwarming, and here’s my takeaway: “Things don’t happen unless you believe they can.” A message I seem to keep hearing.

The Emotion Code subtitle reads—How to Release Your Trapped Emotions for Abundant Health, Love, and Happiness. Dr. Nelson references Dr. Masaru Emoto’s research on how human emotions influence the molecular structure of water. It’s quantum physics. Energies are affected by other energies. Who’s for abundant health, love, and happiness?

Copperfield and Copperhead

At age twelve, Charles Dickens quit school and began work in a shoe blacking factory. Around the same time, his father went to debtor’s prison, where the family joined him, yet twelve-year-old Dickens lived on his own. “The horrific conditions in the factory haunted him for the rest of his life, as did the experience of temporary orphanhood” (*sparknotes).

David Copperfield by Charles Dickens bears significant autobiographical elements, depicting the grim realities of Victorian England and the Industrial Revolution. Orphaned and facing hardships, David narrates the story of his troubled childhood and overcomes adversities such as abuse and institutional poverty. Not to spoil the ending, but David ultimately discovers himself, the love of his life, and success as an author.

“Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o’clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously.”

Charles Dickens, David Copperfield, p. 1

It’s one-gutsy move to take on a retelling of Dickens, a move that paid off for Barbara Kingsolver. Her novel Demon Copperhead won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 2023. Damon Fields (nicknamed Demon—Copperhead for his red hair) tells his own story of trauma, losing his mother, enduring the foster care system, and battling the rampant opioid crisis within the Appalachia region—the author’s own home turf. Reading David Copperfield first isn’t necessary; however, part of the fun (in an otherwise heart-wrenching story) is seeing how Kingsolver uses her source material.  

“First, I got myself born. A decent crowd was on hand to watch, and they’ve always given me that much: the worst of the job was up to me, my mother being let’s just say out of it.”

Barbara Kingsolver, Demon Copperhead, p. 1

David and Demon both face abuse at the hands of their stepfathers. Mr. Murdstone in the former. Murrell Stone, AKA Stoner, in the latter. Our protagonists eventually escape their situations and journey far distances to their only living relatives. For David, his dead father’s aunt Betsey Trotwood. For Demon, his dead father’s mother Betsy Woodall. Both ladies live with Mr. Dick, a distant relative in the Dickens and Betsy’s younger brother in the Kingsolver. Finding family serves as a turning point. In the Kingsolver, Mr. Dick is confined to a wheelchair. In both novels, he is perceived as simple-minded, while he is probably the smartest and kindest character of all.

There is a scene when Demon observes Mr. Dick writing sentences all over his kite in perfect handwriting: “Dispute not with her: she is a lunatic” … (ha ha) … “And if I die no soul will pity me. And why should they since I myself find in myself no pity to myself”… and more from the book he has been reading, Shakespeare’s Richard III. Allow me to excerpt the passage of the first time Demon and Mr. Dick fly the kite:

The clouds had bellied up since morning and a stout wind was kicking up outside, turning the leaves upside down and silvery. Mr. Peg always said that meant rain on the way. I asked Mr. Dick if his kite was ready to fly, and he said it was. Then let’s do it, I said. I got a shiver in my spine. Maybe that’s what my brain had been telling me all day: Run. Go fly a kite.

He looked pretty shocked, but he said okay, he just had one more thing to write on it. I tried to be patient, with him being the slowest writer. He said this one was from a different book, some words he wanted to put up there for me. He wrote them at the very top:

Never be mean in anything. Never be false. Never be cruel. I can always be hopeful of you.

If that was from him to me, it was more man-to-man talk than I’d ever had in life so far…. I said, Okay, let’s do this thing.

Barbara Kingsolver, Demon Copperhead, p. 209-210

Of course, I had to Google the quote, and lo and behold, Mr. Dick of Demon Copperhead was quoting Dickens via Betsey Trotwood in David Copperfield. My heart just about burst with admiration for Barbara Kingsolver. Plus, that’s what kids need.

It’s what we all need. Someone to say:

Lit Class in a Book

I love a good literature class—and stories that make me think. Left to my own devices, I will finish a short story and often feel I’ve missed something. Good literary fiction, in my humble opinion, is best enjoyed through further contemplation and conversation.

Since 1997, George Saunders has taught creative writing in the Syracuse University MFA program. Each year 600-700 hopeful students apply, and Syracuse accepts 6. What are the odds I could get in? (Rhetorical question.) Saunders’s most beloved class explores the Russian short story in translation. Thanks to his book, A Swim in the Pond in the Rain (subtitled In Which Four Russians Give a Master Class on Writing, Reading, and Life), I’m lucky student #7 with a golden ticket into a George Saunders class. His passion for Russian literature is infectious.

In this class, I read seven short stories—by Chekhov, Turgenev, Tolstoy, and Gogol. And each one left me a bit befuddled, you know, as if I were missing something. Professor Saunders then explains the types of dimensions that develop over two decades in a collegiate classroom while discussing stories with the 1% who make the program. He dissects the storytelling techniques of patterns and causality, digression and escalation, organization and omission. Along the way, I felt a little smarter about these Russian short stories, the craft of writing, and life.

On Escalation:

“(I sometimes joke with my students that if they find themselves trapped in exposition, writing pages and pages in which their action doesn’t rise, all they need to do is drop this sentence into their story: ‘Then something happened that changed everything forever.’ The story has no choice but to respond.)”

Saunders 138

Notice his use of parentheses. Even after 22 years of English teaching, I forget how to properly punctuate parentheses. There seems to be more than one rule. Based on the above quote, I believe the ending parenthesis follows the period only if the entire sentence is in parentheses. Grammarly verifies I’m right and adds—if the period is part of a larger sentence, it goes outside the parenthesis (like this). What do the parentheses add to Saunders point? (Feel free to discuss in the comments.)

On Causality:

“There are two things that separate writers who go on to publish from those who don’t.

First, a willingness to revise.

Second, the extent to which the writer has learned to make causality.

‘The queen died, and then the king died’ (E. M. Forster’s famous formulation) describes two unrelated events occurring in sequence. It doesn’t mean anything. ‘The queen died, and the king died of grief’ puts those events into relation; we understand that one caused the other. The sequence, now infused with causality, means: ‘That king really loved his queen.’”

Saunders 226-227

I admit, I have ideas for stories that sound something like this: This happened and then this happened and then this happened. (Yawn). The end. To add meaning requires thought and time. I often struggle with adding meaning, but with the above-mentioned causality lesson, I have a new focus for future work: Have I made the point clear?

On Digression:

“What we first felt as a waste or indirectness (the digression) turns out to be exactly what elevates the story…and makes it so complex and mysterious.”

Saunders 336

I’m curious if these quotes make sense without the in-depth examples. Sometimes I write these pieces to help me remember. Saunders was talking about details that first seem meaningless until they recur. If this sort-of book sounds interesting to you, I give my whole-hearted recommendation.

On Chekhov:

“In a world of people who seem to know everything, passionately, based on little (often slanted) information, where certainty is often mistaken for power, what a relief it is to be in the company of someone confident enough to stay unsure”

Saunders 338

This one refers to Chekhov not passing judgement onto his characters, leaving their behavior ambiguous enough to let the reader draw conclusions. What a wonderful insight to explore the next time I pick up Chekhov!

On Revision:

“The difference between a great writer and a good one (or a good one and a bad one) is the quality of the instantaneous decisions she makes as she works. A line pops into her head. She deletes a phrase. She cuts this section. She inverts the order of two words that have been sitting there in her text for months.”

“We can reduce all writing to this: we read a line, have a reaction to it, trust (accept) that reaction, and do something in response, instantaneously, by intuition.

That’s it.

Over and over”

Saunders 345

I started this post a month ago and lost momentum. Many lines have popped up only to be cut later. I’m learning to trust my reactions and not rush progress.

On Omission:

“Omission is sometimes a defect and leads to unclearness. But other times it’s a virtue and leads to ambiguity and an increase in narrative tension”

Saunders 379

At the end of A Swim in the Pond in the Rain, Saunders includes writing and revising exercises, one on omission. Now to exercise…

What Is Normal?

It was the day after Halloween when my classes read David Sedaris’s narrative essay “Us and Them.”

You know how when you’re young, everyone else seems weird because they do things differently than your family? Before the students started the story, I proposed the question written by the textbook company:

What is normal?

My seniors talked within table groups and then shared out with the whole class. Several people said something along the lines of “Being normal means not being weird.” Often in school settings, when one student has an opinion, others will jump on the bandwagon rather than form their own.

I can’t stop thinking about the girl who said:

“There’s no such thing as normal because everyone is different. So being different is normal.

Sedaris’s third-grade self spies on his neighbors, the Tomkeys, and he passes juvenile judgement on their lives. The Tomkeys don’t watch TV. They talk during meals. They even slap their knees laughing at each other. They trick-or-treat in homemade costumes. On the wrong day. The day after Halloween.

At the insistence of his mother and with dramatized reluctance, Sedaris must give away his own, hard-earned Halloween candy. Along the way, he pokes fun at himself for being human, judgmental and greedy.  

And I’m still thinking about what it means to be normal.

Inspiration from Wynton Marsalis, James Baldwin, and My Students

Due to inclement weather for an outdoor event nearby, Wynton Marsalis showed up at my school, where his gig had been relocated. This happened on Tuesday at 11 am, and I just happened to have a coinciding off period, so I took two flights of stairs down to the balcony of The Denney Theatre. With an introduction from Houston mayor Sylvester Turner, Marsalis spoke about the fundamentals of jazz and how jazz teaches us to exercise individual rights as well as responsibility to others. “Jazz can show us how to work together,” he said, “while also celebrating our obvious differences.” The metaphors weren’t lost on this English teacher. Marsalis spoke of improvisation and how improvisation is freedom. Then he improvised on trumpet with The Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra and proceeded to blow my socks off. There was a call and response among the musicians. The piano and sax, the drums and string bass and trombone each had their turn. I understood the celebration of differences and left the theatre that day feeling that jazz is life.

This whole jazz experience overlapped with classroom discussion of James Baldwin’s 1957 short story “Sonny’s Blues.” I had never taught this story. I’m not sure I fully understood the nuance. I had hesitated to assign the story. It’s not exactly short. But there’s something about Baldwin. And I couldn’t have planned a guest performance of a Grammy and Pulitzer Prize winning jazz musician if I had tried.

Prior to the reading assignment, I gave my students a bookmark, ironic since The Norton Introduction to Literature is online. The bookmark, a mini-handout, included what to look for when marking the text:

  • Music and Jazz
  • Being Trapped, Physically and Emotionally
  • Light vs. Darkness
  • Grace, Forgiveness, and Salvation
  • Family Obligation
  • Characterization of the Narrator vs. Sonny

Then came Wednesday, the day of the graded discussion. I had divided the story into three parts and my class alphabetically into three groups. My students read the entire story but focused their annotations on their assigned section: beginning, middle, or end.

The students first discussed their chunk in small groups for main ideas and motifs. Then we had a class graded discussion. Everyone participated. Intelligent and sophisticated conversation ensued. In twenty-two years of teaching, what happened in my classroom this week ranks as a highlight of highlights and left me inspired.

Sonny is a free-spirited jazz musician with a heroin problem. It’s 1950s Harlem. His older brother, the unnamed narrator, teaches school and has spent time in the military. The brotherly conflict is real. Before their mother dies, she tells the older brother, “Don’t let him fall.” It seems wrong to write a story about the artist James Baldwin or his masterpiece of a story. You would be better off reading “Sonny’s Blues,” and then we can talk.

Self-Revelation

“They sat there in the fresh young darkness close together. Pheoby eager to feel and do through Janie, but hating to show her zest for fear it might be thought mere curiosity. Janie full of that oldest human longing—self revelation” (Their Eyes Were Watching God, page 7).

“There is no book more important to me than this one.” —Alice Walker

I can’t stop thinking about Zora Neale Hurston’s words. Self-revelation. The oldest human longing. At the beginning of the novel, Janie returns home after a year-and-a-half absence. Pheoby wants to live vicariously through her friend, but she doesn’t want to come across as nosy. Janie wants nothing more than to tell her story. The rest of the novel is that story.

And that’s friendship—telling our stories, sharing our burdens, gaining self-awareness and insight through processing. But what about blogging? I suppose self-revelation, regardless of form, comes from a longing to connect.

I wrestle with what to share on the blog…with oversharing…crossing boundaries…telling stories that might not be mine to tell. I’m sure I could pick up the phone and share more with my friends and family. Then there’s the part about being an introvert and exhausted at the end of my days and weeks and recharging my energy through my quiet time. And there’s the part about not knowing what to say until the words appear on the page. I often find answers inside my heart all along.

As I re-read Their Eyes Were Watching God, I’m contemplating more this time through Janie’s journey and self-discovery.

Self-discovery through self-revelation.

Wisdom through self-understanding.

Every Day Is a New Day

I don’t know how many people have jobs with built-in opportunities for do-overs. I teach school, therefore, this past Monday was a new beginning for me—in so many ways.

On my first day of school, I opted for the stairs vs. the elevator, from the lower level of the parking garage to my fourth-floor classroom. 71 steps from the garage to the second floor, 98 to the third floor, 125 to the fourth floor. But who’s counting?

One thing I’ve noticed about my co-workers who take the stairs—they’re fit. What if the stairs are their not-so-secret secret? Game on, Stairs. Game on.

Students at the performing and visual arts high school started the day in their art areas—theater, dance, instrumental, vocal, creative writing, or visual arts. Academic teachers, like me, joined one of the art areas for crowd control, so I went to the theater department. Theater, however, had everything under control, so I simply stood by in awe.

The senior thespians, thirty or so, stood center stage, one by one, in the Black Box Theater. Each offered their advice to the underclassmen, and their words were sheer power. “Be kind and easy to work with. It will open doors for you.” And so many more I can’t recount, but what I heard set the tone for my day.

And my students—each class period—were quite possibly the loveliest ever in my twenty-two new beginnings. No one complained about sitting in alphabetical order, which is my strategy for memorizing 192 new names. They folded printer paper into thirds like a brochure and wrote their name on one side where I could see and call on them. On the inside, they wrote a goal for themselves before they graduate and one piece of advice for me. Then, they worked together on a poem puzzle, fill-in-the-blank with cut-out pieces of words and phrases. (By the way, not my original idea. I borrowed the lesson from a generous giver found here.)  I had kids who pulled it off. Here’s the key to the puzzle: 

Good Bones by Maggie Smith

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.

Students annotated the text, and then we discussed the importance of certain words and phrases and clauses. They liked Maggie Smith’s poem and the freedom to say “shithole.”

“Good,” I said. “But what’s this poem about?”  

“It’s about a mother protecting her child from the dark side of life,” they said.

“Yes,” I said, “but what’s it really about?”

“It ends on a note of hope,” they said. “It’s about the duality of life…She believes her child can make the world beautiful—We can all make life more beautiful.”

And like that, my students analyzed poetry on Day One.

“And we all bring our own experiences to our reading,” I said. “Could the speaker be a teacher? Could her children be students? Life is short and half terrible, but we have the power, especially as artists, to make it beautiful.”

At the end of my school day, I read their advice to me. One said, “Just love us. We love you already.” My heart burst a bit, broke a bit, and I breathed a prayer of gratitude. From my classroom, I walked down the hallway to the stairwell, took six flights down to the parking garage, and hopped in my car to drive home—to wait for another brand-new day.