...ponderous weight of wisdom

The sea @ the Jersey Shore.

Posted by Melissa Baumgart
The Awakening was a lovely read.  It was interesting enough to hold my attention, short enough to fit into my week without overwhelming my list of things to do, and sentimentally reminded me of my college literature days.  Kate Chopin writes in a way that I used to love to read in college, with symbolism that you can dissect during a good class.  And I loved when I found myself with the right teacher to guide the discussions, yet without too many directives, so as to not steal the student's fresh ideas away from them.

One of my favorite passages was at a point when Edna Pontellier (her name sounded so marvelous as I read it with a French accent silently in my head, heaven forbid I try to utter it aloud) is realizing there is something changing within her.  She is not only realizing it, but accepting it, opening herself to it.  It is something far deeper and broader than the infidelity the book synopsis spoke of.

She is beginning to come into her own person, her own woman, and from this point on she grows more and more beautiful, both outwardly and debatably inwardly.  The debate occurs depending on whether you think a woman has her place in the world, or she creates her place as she sees fit.

Here is the passage:

EDNA Pontellier could not have told why, wanting to go to the beach with Robert, she should have in the first place declined, and in the second place have followed in obedience to one of the two contradictory impulses with impelled her.

A certain light was beginning to dawn dimly in her, -the light which, showing the way, forbids it.

At that early period to served to bewilder her.  It moved her to dreams, to thoughtfulness, to the shadowy anguish which had overcome her in the midnight when she had abandoned herself to tears.

In short, Mrs. Pontellier was beginning to  realize her position in the universe as a human being, and to recognize her relations as an individual to the world within and about her.  This may seem like a ponderous weight of wisdom to descend upon the soul of a young woman of twenty-eight - perhaps more wisdom than the Holy Ghost is usually pleased to vouchsafe to any woman.

But the beginning of things, of a world especially, is necessarily vague, tangled, chaotic, and exceedingly disturbing.  How few of us ever emerge from such a beginning!  How many should perish in its tumult!

The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in the abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation.

The voice of the sea speaks to the soul.  The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace.

This passage is on page thirteen, and Chopin has beautifully written the book so that it allows the reader nearly one hundred more pages of being with Edna on this journey.  There is no rush, life does not allow for the process of self discovery to unfold with any quickness.  I can only imagine what it must have been like to read this as a woman in the late 1800's.  Or to have had the courage to be a character like Edna Pontellier during that time period.

Whether you agree with her choices or not, she certainly maintained an aura of courageousness.

I highly recommend this book.  It has a fantastic ending...but I refuse to give it away.  You'll simply have to read it yourself.

One more day of February left, I wonder if I can fit in Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck today and tomorrow, to make it 4 books for the month.   It is 106 pages.

-Melissa

That's what she said

posted by Melissa
I think I am still delirious.  From the air travel, wine at high altitudes, and the amount of information I attempted to memorize in the past two days.

The Jersey Shore

I flew my kids to the east coast on a Wednesday night red eye (read: 3 hours of sleep) last week and arrived at the Jersey shore for some fun in the sun.  It was a great weekend of family, lots of family I had not seen in years.  And we even met a distant relative that shared my father's penchant for family history.  Don drove down from near New York City to share some photos and stories of what he knows of the Terry family history.  I was surprisingly entertained by it; history typically bores me.

We also spent an evening on the boardwalk.  Riding roller coasters and other daring rides.  Eating ice cream.  Drinking lemonade.  Whining when the night had to end.

I love the beach and the sun.  It leaves me wondering why we moved to Seattle, land of the dreary.  Where summer is but a flicker in your memory, like when someone turns the light on in the middle of the night.  You squint from the light, startled, and when you wake up you think maybe it was a dream.  But there was plenty of sun in Jersey, and I soaked as much of it in as I could.

One day I was pacing on the sunny beach, poetry book in hand, memorizing the Kipling poem, "If."  (Which I have accomplished! although the last stanza is a bit evasive)  A lone kid's shoe on the sand caught my eye.  I recognized it because we walked to the beach behind the kid that was wearing the black Croc flip flops just like the one I spied on the sand.  I feel like people must think I am such a stalker, because I notice so many details like that.  I spend a lot of time watching and observing people.

I walked over to the family, and pretended I didn't know if it was theirs or not.
"Is this yours?" I asked the kid.  He didn't speak to me, but his eyes said yes.
The Mom overheard and  thanked me.  Then she asked me what I was reading.  I told her and she asked a few more questions, and before I knew it, I was telling her all about the blog.  As I walked off, guess what she said?

"Well, good luck with that!"

"That is the name of my blog!" I told her, a little too excitedly, because I kinda swallowed some saliva and my voice sounded funny like there was an air bubble in my throat.  And I almost choked.

"What?" She said, puzzled and perhaps concerned.

Then I gave one of those fake laughs and told her again that it was the name of my blog.  And quickly walked away.  Human interaction can be so odd, or maybe I just over think it all.

Now I am back home in Seattle.  Without my kids.  I call myself a person that doesn't miss people, but you know what?  I do miss them.  A lot.  They are staying on the east coast for a few weeks of grandparent time.  I know they'll have fun, and so will we.  So, I stay grounded in that thought.

Back to Seattle = back to school.  I struggled through one test this morning after minimal sleep, and am working on studying for the next one this evening.  I know it is the first of the month, so I am also preparing for the reading of my poem.  The one I am going to read ON THE BUS!  I can't believe it.  I think I might for real choke and die.  I can't believe I agreed to this.

We are hoping to get the page all changed up for hiking/backpacking (yes, another think I can't believe I thought was a good idea) month in the next couple days...stay tuned.

-Melissa