Finding Myself

     I have found out, throughout the course of my very short life, that sometimes we can forget ourselves. We forget ourselves when we abandon the dreams, the desires of our hearts, the fantasies and aspirations we used to hold so dear as children. I don’t think it’s something that is done on purpose, it’s just that in the routine of life, sometimes dreams get lost, and with them, a part of ourselves gets lost as well. But getting lost is not the worst thing that could happen, because you can always find yourself again, and the manner in which you do is different for each one. Mine, came through a story.

     “Y colorin colorado, este cuento aun no se ha acabado.” I read this beautiful, short novel in Spanish written by Odin Dupeyron when I was younger and had in a sense, lost myself. In English, it translates to: “And this story has not yet ended.” One day, my mom handed me this book and told me to read it, that I needed it. She was right. The story helped me to, in a way, find myself again. It helped me remember the girl I wanted to and aspired to be. “Forgive me if I have left you alone. Forgive me if I have forgotten you…but you will no longer be alone, my little girl, because I will be with you. We have many dreams ahead to fulfill my dear, and this time, I promise, I really promise that I will fulfill them for you.” These words, meant as a promise from the present older girl to the younger self, are what really inspired me to find myself again and retake my abandoned dreams.

Other spiritual-literary experiences:
- Reading my past journal entries; all the heartaches and pains and to realize that I’ve grown so much since then
- Reading letters that I wrote to myself starting from the 8^th grade up until before leaving for college with really inspiring messages to myself that were just what I needed to hear
- Reading the letters my mom wrote to me when I was younger, telling me not to abandon my talent and passion for writing and other really inspiring words I needed to hear that meant a lot coming from her
- Writing a mission statement for my life in a student development class here at BYU (my goals, purpose in life) and re-reading that every once in a while (really helps to maintain perspective and remember what life is really about)
- When I read the beloved Anne of Green Gables. I love that book and as a young girl, I loved to just sit there and mull over the words that I found in that book and it’s a good inspiring book to have when you’re young            

           

Surprised by Literature

As an English major I frequently get asked who my favorite author is. In my opinion this question is impossible to answer; however, I usually respond with a list and near the top of that list is William Wordsworth. I love his poetry with its nature imagery and how he is able to put human emotion into words. One poem in particular is my favorite. It's titled "Surprised by Joy."

In this poem Wordsworth, who had personally experienced loss multiple times, explains the moment when you experience something happy and turn to share the moment with someone near to you only to remember that they've passed away. The shock of that moment is startling and painful and Wordsworth captures it beautifully in words.

I remember the first time I read this poem. Its accuracy and emotion hit me hard. I knew exactly what it described. I had lost my sister to cancer a few years before and knew all too well the feeling of being "surprised by joy."

The truth of Wordsworth's words taught me something powerful. They showed me that human truth was found in more than just scripture. They also reinforced to me why we read and study literature. We don't read just because it's fun. We read because literature connects us and teaches us so much about life and what it means to be human. Literature helps us through life because it shows us that we aren't alone, something I was taught by William Wordworth.

My sisters and I shortly before Madey passed away

Other spiritual literary experiences:

- Reading board books to my baby nephew and watching him learn through what I read

- Listening to my parents read stories to my sisters and I when we were kids

- Writing fiction and nonfiction based on my personal experiences

- Helping students in the writing center learn the power of writing through tutoring

- Reading poetry while hiking near my home and realizing just how accurately the words described nature

- Finding a good quote in a book that applies to my life, especially at that particular moment

Visiting Grief

Naturally, we  grieve when someone passes away. Yet, we hope to, of course, move forward after our mourning period. Rather than be debilitated by the the loss, we want to find happiness again and appreciate the life we still have.

That's all very important, but I've also learned that we need to revisit grief from time to time. We heal, but we still have a missing piece to our heart. And so, we need to take time to grief on the anniversary of our lost loved one's death. We need to wake up 5 years and some months later on a sunny day and wish for a moment that they could enjoy it with us. We need to let the tear run down our cheek when 27 year later when we're alone and a quiet memory enters our head.

I believe it's healthy. I really do. Every once in a while we need to take the time and grieve however we need to grieve.

As for me? I need to write. Her name was Vicky. She died when I was nine. And sometimes I still need to work through her death. I'm no poet (meter. I can't do meter.), but I've written countless poems and short stories about her and to her. Death leaves us with a thousand feelings, and we can't understand them or explain them all, so I write and write and write. And sometimes big events happen like high school plays and graduation and college and marriage and babies, and she's not there, so I write and write and write. And then I'm finally dedicating time to writing a novel like I've always wanted to, and I know she'll be proud.

So I write and write and write.

A Tree Grows In Brooklyn: Only let me be something

Photo by erin m

There have been many moments whilst reading literature that I have stopped, stunned at a phrase that seems so simple but writes truth so perfectly. One such moment was while I was reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith. Following the childhood of Francie, a studious young girl who escapes her alcoholic, poverty-stricken home life through books, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn would often move me with small, profound ideas. While sitting in the passenger seat of my car on a hot day, I was reading while my husband was driving, waiting for me to tell him the next passage that was too good to be left unspoken. 

Currently suffering from a bout of depression, I look up at Spencer and say, "Listen to this: 'Dear God,' she prayed, 'let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. Let me be gay; let me be sad. Let me be cold; let me be warm. Let me be hungry . . . have too much to eat. Let me be ragged or well dressed. Let me be sincere—be deceitful. Let me be truthful; let me be a liar. Let me be honorable and let me sin. Only let me be something every blessed minute. And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost." 

When I finished Spencer, who has also suffered from depression, breathed deeply, saying nothing. It had been said. We were glad in that moment to live any moment because at least that moment included life itself. 


Other spiritual experience with literature include:

• Understanding happiness while reading the first lines of Anna Karenina: "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."
•  Feeling the vast intricacies of nature, and the lonely fullness of my identity within nature while reading The Rings of Saturn. I may be an individual, and I may even be alone sometimes, but I exist within the far expanses of a beautiful eternity.
• Experiencing the palpable reality of sin and redemption in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.
• Listening to the voice of Death as the narrator of The Book Thief.
• Reading the accounts of Elie Wiesel's Night and Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning, in comparison to each other as a study of suffering and either losing or finding God when there is no balm in Gilead. 
• Listening to my husband stand up and recite the poem "I Don't Care".
• Reading "Rabbi Ben Ezra" by Robert Browning with my husband the night he proposed to me.

My Spiritual-Literary Life - More Prewriting

The students in my current Literature of the Latter-day Saints class have intrigued me with their first, modest personal essays ("My Mormon Literary Life"). I want to hear more.

We are looking at the Book of Mormon through a literary lens; reciprocally, I want my students to look at non-LDS or non-religious works through a spiritual lens. My current students are all English majors attending BYU (where one's spiritual life is respected and cultivated, hopefully in every class they take). So, I want them to brainstorm, to reflect on moments when they have felt themselves receiving inspiration and insight not while reading scripture, but while reading literature or when writing.

Assignment:

1. Read the prompts below about different aspects of one's literary life to be considered from a spiritual angle. 
2. Use one of those prompts, or something along the same vein, and write one short account of a spiritual-literary experience (that is not based on an explicitly LDS or religious book or occasion). As a model, see this post, but keep it much shorter (around 200 words).
3. Then, unrelated to that story, add to your post a list of various spiritual-literary experiences, giving just enough info so that others can get an idea of the experience without it being too cryptic, but without you having to tell the whole story. (See my model below)
4. Respond to others' posts and state what sounds like something you'd like to hear more about (either the main story or one of the seedling stories in their list).