What Do We Celebrate?

I guess it's not the best idea to write about Halloween when there's less than an hour left of it, but you know... clearer ideas come at the end of the day, and I figured I'd think out loud here and see if they're worth anything.

As I get older, I actually find myself liking this time of year more, though it wasn't really part of my experience growing up. My family wasn't anti-Halloween... my mom actually tried to get us to dress up, but fragile (okay... dramatic and wimpy) children we were, the idea of putting on costumes and leaving the house was just too scary, especially when everything about the day was geared toward fear. So my memories of the night mostly involve hanging out at home with Disney cartoons, It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, and candy. Oh, candy.

It wasn't until we were older that we started to hear the hype and controversy. You know the angles... It's evil, and we shouldn't participate in darkness. It's darkness, but we should use it to share light. It's harmless. It's very serious.

Really, I do believe it's up to the individual to decide what to do with it, and if you wanted a further discussion on that, The Rabbit Room did a much better job of that last year, so read that... if you dare. (Then again, maybe we don't want to dredge that Comment Monster up again. :)) What I'm more interested in is a question I heard a mom ask today as she figures out her own stance for her family.

"It's a holiday... but what are we celebrating anyway?"

Kids dress up, they get candy, they have fun... but what's the deeper meaning if any? If it's a holiday, what could we celebrate? Death, or fear, or darkness? Hardly. If that's all there was to celebrate, then no wonder many say it's not worth the time.

But what if, in the interest of re-purposing the day and making something beautiful, it became a way to face our humanity and fears and celebrate that death is not the end?


Autumn is, after all, a season of dying. Leaves fall. Days burn out quicker. Nights turn colder, slower, darker, paving a golden path toward winter, toward the end. And Halloween falls right there on the edge, a night where believing in ghosts comes little bit easier.

What if though, instead of a day to focus on fear and violence, we saw innocence, creativity, and imagination? Couldn't we take joy in those parts, and throw them back in death's face, reminding him that he's not the end? "Death, thou shalt die," an old poem says. Or in older words, "Where is your victory? Where is your sting?

And after all, in the dead of winter, Christmas is not too far behind. The cycle begins anew.

Again, if I were a real blogger, I would've planned to post this two weeks ago, because November starts in less than an hour. And it would be confident and organized, darnit. But you know... sometimes thoughts come late and slow, and suddenly, I kind of wish I'd carved a pumpkin and dressed up this year.

So for now, let's collaborate: What are your thoughts, experiences, and/or hangups with Halloween? And how can we rebuild it into something beautiful and worth celebrating? Maybe by this time next year, we can have a more coherent idea...

On a similar note, this is most fitting:

"When it comes, flowers grow

Lions sleep, gravestones roll

Where death dies, all things live..."

Why I Write.

Why do I write? Why do any of us write? What could possibly be interesting, fun, or fulfilling about spending hours bent over notebooks and computer screens, stringing letters and words together, many of which that will never be opened to any other eyes... or maybe even thrown away?

I really do ask myself this question. Often, actually. I'll go strong for a while, striving to be a "real" writer and write every day, and then the wall is there, the frustration, the sense that I'm really too tired and there are more important ways to use my time. Lately, writing for pleasure and art's sake has been eluding me, taking a backseat to more "important" things, like working and spending time with people and sleeping.

Then I talk to other writers who find something soul-stirring and cathartic in word-stringing. Or I'll read something so stunning it looks like magic, or hear a song with words so beautiful it brings tears. Words have power. They are a currency of beauty, wonder, courage and hope, and if I can share in the mystery of creating with them, then maybe it's all worthwhile.

Today was the National Day of Writing, as I found out from Twitter and blogs I read. It's too late for me to write a coherent essay on "Why I Write," (Though many others have done an exceptional job! See Kristin's post "Why We Should Write it Down" as one example.) but if I might be pretentious enough to share a poem I wrote a few years ago, I believe it will sum up the reason I do this well enough.


***

I know poetry when I see it.
How it dances and sings and leaps
Across the page
How it shapes the white space
Breathing life into ink marks and wood pulp
Where there was once nothing

I know poetry when I see it
Where only the essence of a truth is compressed
In a line so small, but so full that
You read it over and over again
Just to know it by heart.
You write it down word for word
Letter for letter
Period for period
For wonder of what it felt
To write it.

I know poetry when I see it
Standing on my toes
Straining for a glimpse over
The shoulders of giants
Feeling small and speechless
In their presence

Sometimes

I feel the surge of words
Begging to be let out.
I hear them whispering in the notes of a song
Or the voice of a friend
Or a sudden epiphany

I doubt their worth and wonder if they matter,
And if they could mean anything
To anyone
But me.

But I write them
(or at least I try to)
Desiring to honor in the smallest way
The poetry I’ve seen.

Like a little girl
In her mother’s high heels
Five sizes too large.

Surprised by Oxford Review

I confess, I kind of blew it with my first ever BookSneeze review. Eager to get back on the book touring bandwagon, I signed up for an account way too close to my month of insanity. But now that I've had time to refocus, I present some thoughts on a book I finished a while back, Surprised by Oxford by Carolyn Weber. Fortunately, this was memorable enough that I shouldn't have a problem recalling it for this review.

As far as I'm concerned, Surprised by Oxford speaks just about all my literary love languages: spiritual memoir, Romantic literature, England, academia, and an allusion to dear ol' Jack in the title. I prepared myself for something heady and intellectual for all those 450 pages, but was happy and surprised to find her style accessible and unpretentious, as well as beautiful to read. With warmth and wisdom, Weber invites her readers into the story of her first year as a graduate student at the esteemed Oxford university and how a skeptical agnostic found God along the way.

As a student of Romantic literature, references to classic poetry abound throughout this book, which might either fill the reader with nerdy glee or dredge up scary English class memories. For me, it just made me want to pack up my life and move to England. Her descriptions of Oxford are charming and beautiful and sound like a real-life Hogwarts, a faraway magic place where she transforms and grows and finds her elusive faith. The students, teachers, and intellectuals that fill her life are catalysts for deep conversations and spur her discoveries in varied ways, but it's TDH (Tall, Dark, and Handsome), an American student who first introduces her to honest Christianity, who pulls her story along the most.

The most compelling part of the story really is the arrival in Oxford, her discoveries in the faith, and her eventual conversion. After that, the book becomes a string of episodes and conversations that can drag on in some parts, but like the best memoir, these little vignettes show some lovely writing and capture fragments of mood and thought. Weber is an intellectual, so a lot of her conversations are grounded in thinking and debate, but the story is more concerned with her internal goings-on than actually offering concrete answers, and a poetry student's keen eye for detail and symbolism balance the headier moments with mystery and beauty. In that respect, her storytelling is compelling.

For bookish types and lovers of spiritual memoirs, Surprised by Oxford is a gem that might slip by quietly. As I read it, I couldn't help but think of reader friends who might be moved by her story and relate to her as much as I did. If literary refrences and rolling English countrysides move you or you enjoy contemplating the crossroads of faith and intellect, this just might be your cup of tea. (pun totally intended.)

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About the author: Carolyn Weber is a believer, wife, mother, professor of literature, author, and speaker from London, Ontario Canada. Surprised by Oxford is her first book. She blogs about reading, writing, and living the word eternal at Pressing Save.

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Disclaim'd! I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Excuse the Mess

First, can I just say these orange lovelies are an annoying, all too common occurrence on my commute, and I don't know why I'm using this picture because everything about them just makes me angry? Thanks. End rant.

Wow, sidebar. Um, hi there. This is a note to let you know that things might start looking strange around here soon. Becauuuuuuuse..... I finally decided to be all professional and buy a domain name! That's right. My new writerly home on the Interwebs is the oh-so-original JenWritesStuff.com.

The old address still works and will stay active, but this is a much friendlier address that makes me look like a legit writer. Sort of.

All that to say, a re-design and perhaps renaming is forthcoming. (sniff.) I figure if I announce it to the rest of then Internet then 1) Nobody will be surprised if colors start changing and layouts start shifting and 2) I will have to actually, y'know, start working on it.

We now return to our irregularly scheduled blog. New post (a long overdue book review) in twelve hours. Thanks so much for reading and being awesome in general. =)