the essence of beauty

One of the things we discussed in class this past week was Emily Prager’s piece titled “Our Barbies, Ourselves.” While I agree that Barbie portrays a twisted ideal of women, I believe that she is also representative of a society that has become increasingly obsessed with external beauty. Unlike what the makers of Barbie would have us believe, our body does not define who we are. Inner beauty, the beauty of the soul, is what truly matters. It is an illumination of the heart that manifests itself in one’s strength of character and unwavering moral standards. Think about it. A person with a beautiful face may succeed in appealing to your peripheral sense of enjoyment for only so long, but a person with pleasing character will captivate your heart for a lifetime.

This idea brings to mind a poem by John Keats titled “La Belle Dame sans merci,” in which he describes the encounter between a knight and a mysterious elfin beauty. At first, the lady’s “long” hair, “light” step, and “wild” eyes enthrall him and he eagerly follows her to her “elfin grot.” Because the soldier is so caught up with her external beauty, he fails to realize that her enigmatic smile actually conceals a heart of stone. As a result, once the lady has successfully trapped him in her cave, she swiftly delivers the knight to his chilling end.

This is similar to what Prager suggests in the last line of her piece: Barbie has “trapped” us in the need to conform to others’ ideals of superficial beauty, such that we become oblivious to what really matters. In order to escape, we can embrace the freedom of rising above petty societal beauty standards and develop our character, for the nurturing of inner beauty is what makes us a true human being. 

motherhood

After reading Giovanni and Jacobs's pieces this past week, I thought about the role a mother's sacrifice and love play in the survival of her children. In Harry's case, Lily Potter threw herself in the way of Voldemort's curse--giving up her life to save her son. Jacobs, too, risked her life to ensure that her children would not be sold into slavery.

The bond between a mother and her child is phenomenal. A mother is the sole being who is willing to sacrifice everything to see her child thrive and prosper, without any expectation of returns. The discomfort a woman endures while carrying her child within her for months on end, the excruciating pangs of childbirth, and the sleepless nights she spends thereafter mark just the beginning of a mother's path of continual sacrifice. Such is the natural affinity between a mother and her child that she understands the needs of her child before he is even capable of expressing them; she is aware of his fears without being told.

Like researchers have now realized about mother's milk, there is no substitute for mother's love. No one can extract and bottle motherly compassion. The warmth of your mother's love has the power to melt away your worries; the radiance of her smile can brighten your otherwise gloomy day; her gentle words and comforting hugs make you feel like you can accomplish anything.

In essence, your mother is your sanctuary.

the end of the scarlet letter

I’ve stepped through a book portal and transported myself into The Scarlet Letter, back to Boston in the mid-1600s. I’m looking for a certain Hester Prynne. Maybe you’ve heard of her? She was apparently an evil sinner turned motherly angel. She passed on not too long ago, and I hear her tombstone has an eerie inscription that no one can seem to figure out. Ah, here it is! The epitaph reads, “On a field, sable, the letter A, gules” (259). Well, let’s decode the words first. Field refers to background, sable means black, and gules connotes a reddish tinge. So this literally says, “On a black background, the red letter A.” Looking at it from the Puritans’ viewpoint, the black background represents Hester’s sin-stained heart, with the glowing symbol of her adultery burned into it with the very fire of Hell. From Hester’s—and Hawthorne’s—perspective, the blackness indicates the Puritan society’s hypocrisy and judgmental attitude. The letter A would then symbolize Hester herself, its red glow serving as a reminder of all that she was able to overcome, and her success at turning her deed from a mark of shame and dishonor to one of dignity and pride. Make sense?

Now let’s zoom out, and take a look at the surroundings. It looks like Hester’s burial site is between the prison and King’s Chapel. Very interesting. The prison was actually the place where Hester was first humiliated, forced to reveal her sin before the entire town. It was here where her path of penance began, the starting point of a seven-year-long journey full of sorrow and loneliness. During this journey, however, Hester’s steadfastness and ability to stay true to herself changed her from society’s object of scorn to society’s refuge. Her presence by the prison door stands as a symbol of comfort, compassion, empathy, and hope to incoming prisoners. Her spirit smiles upon them and says, “Don’t despair! Embrace your identity, accept your mistakes, stay strong—and the world will come to respect you for it.” It might also turn to the influx of churchgoers standing at the door of the chapel, frown slightly, and call out, “O hypocritical people! Do not be deluded by your flawless beauty and unblemished clothing. Deep within, you all harbor a secret, a sin. Accept the fallibility of human nature; you are not perfect.”

And see here, Hester’s grave is next to Dimmesdale’s, her lover. But it’s not quite next to—they’ve left considerable space between the two, “as if the dust of the two sleepers had no right to mingle” (258). Perhaps Dimmesdale was right in questioning whether he and Hester would be joined in the afterlife. But, you see, although they’re buried a few feet apart, they do share the same tombstone. In life, they were constantly separated, but in death, they lie under the same scarlet letter. And perhaps, by burying Hester next to Dimmesdale, the community is implying that they have moved on, and in many ways, forgiven them for their sin. They, too, agree that the legend of their love lives on. 

time heals all wounds. or does it?

It is often hoped that with time, hurt and pain will fade away. In Dimmesdale’s case however, the passage of time brings with it a steady increase in his suffering. His inner state of continuous guilt eats through his soul, eventually manifesting in his exterior. Rabid feelings snap at the periphery of his remorse, and—on the verge of clamping their poisonous jaws over him—threaten to contaminate him with insanity. He grows “emaciated” and his “rich and sweet” voice begins to flicker with “a certain melancholy prophecy of decay” (117). Disguised as a physical illness, Dimmesdale’s spiritual wound ultimately draws the attention of people around him. At the same time, Fate deposits Roger Chillingworth into Dimmesdale’s personal circle, reflecting the community’s hope that his brilliant medical skills can somehow cure him. The effects of Chillingworth’s therapeutic potions, however, are simultaneously reversed by his constant probing of Dimmesdale’s conscience. Chillingworth’s evil presence and malignant intentions only irritate the tender wound, hindering any chance it has of healing.

A change in Dimmesdale’s health seems to take place in Chapter 18, when Hester suggests an escape plan for the two of them. “A glow of strange enjoyment” (198) illuminates his visage, and he seems to suddenly become invigorated and enlivened with energy. However, this is illusory as seen in the succeeding chapters of the story. Satanic urges plague him as he heads homeward, revealing his increased mental imbalance. He is slowly but surely headed towards the abyss of lunacy.

Whoever said time heals all wounds? For Dimmesdale, it only gets worse.