reflective...

This week’s discussion on the Pillow by Li-Young Lee did challenge my understanding of the poem. Prior to class meeting, I tried to decipher what the authors underlying message really was. It seemed to me, as if he could not sleep in peace with these traumatic memories excessively streaming through his head. Prior to my knowledge of his life story at the time, this thought slowly emerged in my own mind- that the author had experienced a tremendous past.

In the first stanza when Lee utilizes the phrase: the voices in the trees, the missing pages of the sea; it appears that he is outlining the conversations he may be replaying in his head. When he creates this image of missing pages, my mind immediately goes to old stories of his life that are now gone with time. He goes on to say in the next stanza: Everything but sleep. Evidently, he just cannot get rest because he cannot deliberately force his mind to stop thinking or reflecting on his past. He speaks of the night as being a bridge between the speaking and listening banks. I believe he is linking the conversations he had as memories. He goes on to call it a fortress, undefended and inviolate. Possibly, referring to his mind in the night time; undefended because he does not have control over the things he can dream. Lee writes about the fountains clogged with mud and leaves, the houses of his childhood. Here we receive information about his past, and I began to wonder if he grew up poor. His mother’s fingers let go of the thread they’ve been tying and untying to touch toward his fraying story’s hem. From this line, I presumed he could have been referring to his mother working all day. Tying and untying created this somewhat meaningless and repetitive task. With fraying story’s hem, a depiction of a story that might be falling apart or coming undone came to mind.

Night is the shadow of his father’s hands setting the clock to resurrection. The first time I read this, I began to consider that his father might have died. I thought the shadow could have represented the past of his father, being someone who lived there (shadow) who is no longer around. Or is it the clock unraveled, the numbers flown? It seems he has no sense of time anymore. When Lee talks about discarded wings, I sense he is suffering because he can’t take off or leave to find his own way. Lost shoes might represent a means in which to walk, run, or escape. And a broken alphabet, I believe creates a sense of having no words to speak. The last stanza is puzzling and even now is difficult for me to understand. When I read it for myself I thought the beheading of jasmine might be the killing of something beautiful for all the senses. To smell, touch, see etc. And this flower is captive, confined, or imprisoned. The fragrance, which is within the flower or what is contained by the flower is rid or purged at last of burial clothes, meaning death.

After reading this poem for myself, I knew that Lee had these awful memories keeping him from sleep, and obviously that evening was not a time of peace for him. Upon further investigation in class, I discovered the Lee family fled the country to escape anti-Chinese sentiment and after a five-year trek through Hong Kong, Macau, and Japan. In class, learning about Lee’s life truly confirmed for me why and what he was writing about.

I believe this text relates to culture in general. Nowadays, people don’t have the peace that comes from the Lord; a peace that passes all understanding. Society might have unresolved issues, within themselves, or relationally and therefore may be too scared to talk to anyone about them or resolve them. This prevents them from being able to truly rest in the reassurance of peace that comes from our heavenly Father; and in turn affects all areas of our life.

Reflective Post

As we reflected on Sonny’s Blues in class, my own contemplation on our discussion truly transformed my view on the text and Sonny’s character immensely. When I read the text for the first time, I was able to empathize with Sonny. It wasn’t until later that I noticed my personal life correlate so closely with Sonny’s. Our classroom discussion really sparked this notion in me- to search my own feelings on my view of music. I am typically so concerned with the performing aspect of music, that I don’t spend much time thinking about how music is perceived. In class, we discussed how music is the way Sonny learns to communicate. It is the means in which he shows his true soul. I then recognized, music really does showcase the limitation of our words. We learn his brother is only mindful of Sonny’s feelings through hearing him play, and this is where he truly understands the depth of all that Sonny is.

I can completely relate to this feeling. Music has been a huge part of my life, and a passion I have held since I was just a ten year old girl. It is now my degree and will be my career in just a few short months. I am classically trained, so when I first learned how to play- a sheet of music is filled with notes. It is merely a sheet that you read, just like a book, but in a different language. The symbols would speak to me, and I would play what I learned. This is not the case now. When I read a piece of music I dive into it creatively. Rather than it being a sheet of notes with limitations, I see it as a blank canvas that I can fill with different colors. At one point, Sonny’s brother says, “Sonny. You hear me?” Sonny, says “I hear you. But you never hear anything I say.” Music truly is a way of communication, and conveys the emotions that words cannot express. It is the ultimate way of expressing yourself.  In being a musician, your ultimate goal is to be heard, to be understood, to be recognized.

Creative post- Letter to the Woman Hanging from the Thirteenth Floor

My heart goes out to you; the mother of Carlos, Margaret, and Jimmy. It hurts for you, because you have abandoned any motivation you once had to live. I know there is so much I must learn about you, but from this piece of poetry I hear the cry a helpless woman. One who does not feel loved, but quite the contrary- vulnerable and controlled. My heart aches for you, a woman who rather than having a helper for a husband, has a man who has wounded the very person you were. Rather than feeling belittled, be there for the family in your life, strong and dependent on God. I understand freedom is one of the most highly valued qualities that any human will ever desire. However, don’t let the oppression you currently feel make you give up. I heard a quote today, “Don’t feel your way into actions, act your way into feelings.” Can death really seem better than living? I never quite understood that. Perhaps, it’s because I have the joy of the Lord in my life, and His peace that passes all of my confusion. You, can receive that to the fullest as well. I beg you to come down off of that thirteenth floor window. There is so much to live for! Life is a precious gift, and you will learn to see it that way. Please leave the past, and know that you have a great future in front of you. The voices that beg you to jump, are lies that are taunting you. The soft cries begging you to join the ground in which you stare at are deceiving you. Consider each of your children. My heart aches for your children, and for your parents with whom you share fond memories. You are a daughter, a mother, a wife, a friend to somebody.  I beg of you, don’t be selfish. Loneliness does not need to be the answer. You will appreciate the beauty in your life once again. Find your identity in the Lord. He is the answer for hope in your life.

-Nicole