Sunday, September 28, 2014

sin

In class this past week, we have been discussing the themes of sin and morality. It is evident that the modern-day attitude towards Hester’s deed stands in stark contrast to the reaction of the people of the past. This idea made me think, and I realized that over time, the definition of sin has changed. Sin is connected to one’s sense of modesty and morality. When either of the two shifts, so does one’s perception of sin.

I thought back to the American history class I took during my freshman year of high school, during which I had a chance to observe the gradual shift in American values—particularly regarding the concept of women and modesty. In the olden days, women typically wore confining corsets, long dresses over layers of starched petticoats—even their long hair was covered with bonnets. Their proper place was thought to be within the home, far removed from the public sphere. With this prevalence in modesty, interactions between non related males and females were limited. 


These values fluctuated when Amelia Bloomer of the 1800s came along and called for women’s dress reform. She was a strong advocate of the “bloomer” costume, which consisted of a loose top and a skirt that stopped at the knee, with a pair of pants underneath. Bloomer is reported to have said, “As soon as it became known that I was wearing the new dress, letters came pouring in upon me by the hundreds from women all over the country making inquiries about the dress and asking for patterns—showing how ready and anxious women were to throw off the burden of long, heavy skirts.” 


As women began to experience more freedom with what they wore, they began taking more social liberties as well. Ideals of modesty waned, causing moral codes to relax. Women who would once have never dreamed of interacting with a man in an unsupervised setting now thought it perfectly acceptable to even live alone with him despite being unmarried. Society’s perception of sin changed.

What was once considered a scandalous and horrific deed has now been reduced to a woman’s choice of what she wants to do with her body. 



Sunday, September 21, 2014

stream of transcendentalism

the trees outside are so beautiful really the shimmering emeralds dance, doesn’t it look like a ballerina? their graceful movements! in the breeze creating patterns of shadows on the ground and the trunk strong and majestic. be strong, resilient, as the roots reach far and deep into the ground oh! mustn’t i have strong roots? none can uproot me, my faith my strength. the branches a thrilling playground for squirrels, chipmunks and a perch for birds. it is the tree which lends its shade to the tired and—goodness soccer practice yesterday was brutal—its sweet fruits to the hungry. can i be of benefit to others? as fall approaches the emeralds erupt into fiery beauty ruby, citrine, spessartite garnet remember what romeo said “o, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! it seems she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an ethiop’s ear; beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!” as with the first snowflakes they begin to droop and as the cycle is renewed again, the tree blossoms forth with life and allure and joy. it didn’t give up and though my trials in life weigh me down bleak as a snowstorm of worries. i endure. drawing power from the firmness of my roots, through the trunk sturdy with love and support and family arching through my branches, blossoming with service and shade for the world around me 



Saturday, September 13, 2014

on truth and fiction

Verisimilitude. In the literary world, it is a term that describes the blending of truth and fiction—the semblance of reality in a work of fancy.

An example of this fine relationship is The Things They Carried. Tim O’Brien’s vivid descriptions of the soldiers, and the physical and emotional burdens they humped through war-ravaged Vietnam, are so profound that we cannot help but think that all of it is real, that the soldiers were real people with real experiences. Although the letters on the cover, A Work of Fiction, jump out at us, we cannot quite convince ourselves that what we are reading is simply a figment of imagination.

Why is this so?

It has to do with the connection between truth and fiction. As Aristotle insisted in his Poetics, literature should reflect nature. It is natural for one to be able to judge truth and fiction based on perspective. When fiction produces real emotions within us or leads us to discover a reality about ourselves or the world around us, it is truth. When truth does not produce real emotions within us or even when it simply doesn't feel true, it is fiction. When truth and fiction are so closely related, “it’s difficult to separate what happened from what seemed to happen” (O’Brien 67).

Do you agree?