Be. Loved.

As a teenage girl, I am fascinated by love. Born into fairy tales and raised on a steady diet of princesses and dashing knights, I am a creature of romance, a child of story. I was never taught how to imagine; rather, it seems imagination taught me how to form muscle and flesh into the semblance of a human. Often, I feel like a changeling, stealing in from the forest in the shape of a person, with a faerie heart beating out heat underneath. It is little wonder, then, that I was drawn to Beloved by Toni Morrison simply for its title.

'Beloved' is a nickname between my dear friend Shelby and I; we trade the word like a precious stone when we need comfort or protection. Beloved. Tirzah. Blessed city. Like God in the desert, we use the word when we mean it, and never again. Cheap endearments---sweetheart, honey, darling---fall from my lips like rain, but 'Beloved' is for special occassions, dressed-up love. Thick love. 'Cause thin love ain't love at all.

So what does this novel tell us about identity, as it journeys into love and loss and the past and the tenuousness of the future?

1. Love is not a constant, but it is constant. We are not responsible for defining love for everyone; that is too great of a task to undertake in many lifetimes. But love---the nature of it, the shape of it, real and persistant and unselfish---that love is constant. It lasts. It may change, but like salt on the skin after a dip in the ocean, it leaves an echo. We are defined by those we CONTINUE to love, are DETERMINED to love, despite or because of their deserving.


2. Our past is our present, and our future. Who we were directly informs who we are today, and who we will become. Unless we can lay down our "sword and shield", put our memories to rest, we will suffer in the future as we suffered in the past and can find no peace in the present.


3. Anything dead coming back to life hurts.


4. We cannot be all things to all people. Nor should we be just one thing. Sethe is more than a mother. Denver is more than a daughter. Humans have dimensions and space and layers.


5. Story makes us human. Humaness makes us tell stories.

When we raise our daughters on fairy tales, sometimes we leave bits out. Snow White's stepmother rarely dances to her death at the wedding, but when the Brothers' Grimm told the tale she was tap-dancing in heated iron shoes. Until she died. We don't believe Ariel is washed away as sea foam and rarely do Cinderella's sisters go blind for their evil.

It seems that they are not all stories to be passed on.

Certainly no clamour for a kiss.

Beloved.

but it doesn't really matter.

The Stranger, by Camus, was probably one of the stranger things I have read.

It sounds like a children's story to the ear but was anything but childish, takes place in a society that I know nothing about, and concludes in a way I don't fully understand.

Ah, the beauties of literature!

Our main character, Meursault, can help us with a couple of aspects of our big question, despite the confusion inherent in such a work.

1. We are all a little bit strange. As much as some of us would like to deny any aspect of oddity in ourselves, there is a tiny element of strange in every human being. I had a friend once who was terrified of the texture of cotton balls. I have trouble falling asleep when its windy. When my mom is stressed, she likes to clean. There are little idosyncracies in everyone, aspects of personality that go beyond the ordinary and make us stand out


2. Although society can condemn us for strangeness, it is strangeness that often defines who we are. Now, obviously, killing a man like Meursault did goes a little beyond the realm of "strange", and into the areas we consider criminal in this modern world. But it is important to remember that safe strangeness, strangeness that doesn't harm you or anyone else, can be part of what makes you unique. It is a conversation-starter and a way to be remembered.


3. Perhaps no one is normal.


4. Perhaps there is no need.

Die Verwandlung

"Als Gregor Samsa eines Morgens aus unruhigen Träumen erwachte, fand er sich in seinem Bett zu einem ungeheueren Ungeziefer verwandelt."


"As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself in his bed to be into a giant vermin TRANSFORMED."

Although the conventional English translation doesn't place the emphasis on the world 'transformed', the original German edition does. Kafka is actually famous for this type of phrasing, leaving a tantalizing word or unexpected impact right before the period, but we do not speak that way. To us, Gregor was "transformed into a gigantic insect." To Kafka, he was a gigantic vermin, but the emphasis was that he was TRANSFORMED.

This seems to be a minor detail, but because I love language so very much, it is exactly this type of thing that interests me. I picked up very little German in my friendship with the exchange student last year (I have a vague memory of him teaching us a couple theater terms, and I know three different ways to say "I love you", so I figure I'm pretty much set!) but I do remember his accent. It's something in the throat, like chewing but not the sort of chewing necessitated by food. To me, it sounded like the words had to rattle around tongue and teeth before being released; they had to age in the mouth before they saw air. I'd like to read The Metamorphosis in the original someday, because I'm sure it's an experience.

So, Mr. Gregor, transformed as you are from a man to a vermin and from German to English, what can you tell us about our big question?

(Just a little review: our big question is "How do we define who we are?")

1. We are what we are what we are...except when we're...not. Yeah, sure, THAT makes a lot of sense! But really, part of the message within Gregor's happy little tale is that we are what we are, until we aren't any longer. This seems an obvious fact to most of us; one day I may be a dentist, and the next I may be a tap dancer. But the reason this idea is important is because how shocked OTHERS can be by this transformation. Gregor's family is shocked by his transformation, unable to believe that he won't provide and would just throw away his job, actually unable to comprehend the occurrence or understand how to help him. WE may be what we are until we're not, but sometimes people expect us to continue as we were, or even become different than we've ever been before. We are who we are. And it's often others who cannot understand that.


2. It's scary to change. Again, thank you, Captain Obvious! But really. It's scary. It's scary and painful and confusing. But until we change, we don't know if we're going to find anything better on the other side. You've got to make the shift, before you get the reward. And hopefully, you won't be treated like Gregor!


3. Apples can HURT. (Self-explanatory. But it pays to remember!)

Portrait of an Artist, by an Artist for an...artist?

I didn't expect to enjoy A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. My only prior experience with the novel was a vague memory of a babysitter with her heavily-lined eyelids falling closed time and time again as she tried to read it on our couch.

But I didn't fall asleep once. I ate up the book in a plush armchair with many glasses of tea in front of our Christmas tree. You see, I feel like Stephen is quite a lot like me at times...and quite a lot like Spock. He is an outsider, a creator, an ARTIST. And it seems artists are often fated to be alone, like Stephen is, adrift without any connection.

Unlike Stephen, I don't feel that this will be my fate. My creation, the heart of my art, may lie in my "treasure" of words, but it also subsists in my passion and interest in people. Because people are what I love, and what informs my art, I don't think I'll ever truly abandon the larger world to be at one with my work. As my family knows all too well, there are times when I prefer solitude, and they are best off slipping quiet notes under my doorway instead of walking into the carnage of my notes and figures.

But I always come out of the room eventually.

So, what can we learn about our big question from Portrait?

1. Not all people THINK they are artists, but all artists are people. Art must come from a very human place, a place of creation and experience and imagination. All people are driven to create, but some take this to the level of ART and others are satisfied with more minor expressions of creativity.

2. Humanity is defined by connections. At the close of the novel, we are left with impressions of humanity that are determined by his connections. We witness his friendships, particularly his affinity to a poorly spoken boy named Lynch, who uses "yellow" as a curse, but it is THIS individual who Stephen reveals his philosophies. We read of Stephen's passion for church and feeling, but his inability to reach a complete union with his muse. We learn about Stephen through Stephen's voice; we recieve a first-hand impression of his humanity.

3. Life without art is hardly life at all for the artist. Stephen cannot exist happily without his passion and his art, his love for words and his role as a detached observer. His life begins with his realization of his life as an artist. It is a fantastic rebirth because he finally lays a true claim to his soul!

Gift o' the Blarney

What can Playboy of the Western World teach us about our big question on identity?

1. The idea of SELF is influnenced by place, people, and circumstance! Christy does not realize his penchant for storytelling or his capability to be a compelling and worthy man in his own right until he is in a new enviornment with new people, under the right circumstances. Under a new moon with a fresh start apart from his old past, Christy is able to showcase his artistic and sensitive sides in an atmosphere that has less scorn. Because people are passionate about him and interested in him, they allow Christy to be passionate and interested in his own qualities.


2. Identity is easily changed, based on perception. Pegeen's love for Christy waxes and wans due to the way he is percieved; he shifts, in her eyes, from a celebrity of sorts to the man who loves her to a common farmer to a playboy!


3. This changing concept of identity must stop and remain constant for the INDIVIDUAL to create a joyful state of being. When Christy finally realizes his own potential to be a storyteller and embraces the idea of roaming and seeing the world, he steps into his own identity and finds happiness, apart from the wills and whims of others' who's opinions had once mattered so much. Conversely, Pegeen succumbs to the pressures of her society, burns Christy's leg, and ultimately loses his love, denying her chance for a life of imagination and love beyond her small town. She does not reach the state of the identity she has always dreamed about, and instead remains trapped and stagnant.

"i (i) nothing (no thing) am (am)."

i
am
nothing
edgar
i
nothing
am
nothingamedgar
edgariedgar
no---thing
i
am

(there
is
method in this madness we are more than we might seem the ripeness is all
LOOK UP MY LORD

bastard
son
i
ll
i
get
i
mate
leg
i
ti
mate
i
edmund
am
nothing
edmund
blood
nothing

my name is EDGAR and i am a
son of Gloucester

my name is EDMUND and i am
the
other
son of Gloucester

born in wedlock

born out of wedlock

i am we are the son THE sons of Gloucester

(cainabelcain the difference of three letters)

bound by blood
and sep(edgar)rat(edmund)d by lack of purity

(no (less in dignity am i edmund no less for the ceremony of my birth) thing)

fatherfatherfatherfather
from my mother
from my mother
why did you
MY mother
why?

the lands the wealth the fame my brother
brother
edmund
brother
mine

legitimate
edgar
legitimate
god smile on bastards
god
my brother

EDMUND
D
G
A
R

the difference of four letters
ededgarmund
why?

life has worth is worth worthwhile suffering is not just pain is not just my father blind
my father
bleeding rings
my father
MY BROTHER
my blood no greater than yours brother
and if it is
it has brought me only pain

blood blood
not enough of it
find me blood legitimate find me blood spilled life blood
my life
not worth a life dirty
bastard son
whoreson
dirty
more
blood
blind the fool
the fool is blind
bloodbloodblood

THE SINS OF THE FATHER
BEGAT
THE SINS OF THE SON

oh edmund, (if you but look up, my brother) my brother
what have you done?

to boldly go where no man has gone before....

For this post, we are going to take a little journey, a journey through time and space, deep INTO space.

I'm talking, of course, about Star Trek.

There is nowhere else in the galaxy where we could find a finer example of identity than on the USS Enterprise. We simply walk on to the bridge, turn to our right, take a few steps, and there he is: the fascinating Mr. Spock.

Science officer and first officer aboard the flagship for the United Federation of Planets, Spock holds a place of huge power and responsibility. He is almost uniformly respected, obeyed, and admired...almost. Spock has two rather noticeable things that set him apart from the rest of the crew: his two pointy ears. These self-same ears, hallmark of his half-Vulcan half-human heritage, place Spock on a different level than any of his human crew members, and Spock becomes the sad proof that, yes, prejudice still exists in the future.

Because the Vulcans revere logic, Spock is logical to the point of coldness, undeniably practical, and pointedly sardonic in his observations of human shortcomings. Although he may respect many beings, he has few friends, and rarely recognizes them as such. He is critical, exacting, and lacks empathetic understanding of many basic human emotions. These qualities make him even more of an "alien" among the all too human crew of the Enterprise. Despite the occassional butting of heads and the periodic alienation of his alien self, Spock is the best at what he does, and feels he could be needed nowhere else as much as on a ship of illogical humans. Loyal, smart, resourceful, determined, brave, and honest, Spock is as good a man as anyone without green blood, and twice as useful for his Vulcan qualities.

It is Spock's quest for self that becomes most interesting when related to our bigger question. Torn forever between two worlds, Spock can be perfectly happy in neither; he is not completely understood by humans and not completely accepted by Vulcans. Spock also faces the struggle between both his primal human side and his native Vulcan logic; unable to fully offer love, but always longing for it, the dark eyes of the second officer often epitomize loneliness, isolation, and the inability to belong. It is this continual struggle to find a balance between warring halves of his identity that make Spock such a useful character study.

So what can we learn from the human Mr. Spock, the vulcan Mr. Spock, and the total entity of our Star Trek friend?

1. It is possible to having two opposing sides of self.


2. It is only by seeking balance between both sides, denying neither, that one can be truly happy.


3. Sometimes this balance must be created and sought after, not easily recieved. The balance for Spock is his only home, the Enterprise itself. Because happiness is elusive on both Vulcan and Earth, Spock seeks a literal middleground in his journey across the universe. This parallels the nature of the island in Shakespeare's The Tempest; sometimes one must seek abroad to find a "great equalizer," a place where all desires can be realized.

Spock says it best himself when he states what all creatures must aim to do, no matter what their crisis of identity may be: "Live long, and prosper."