Chariots of Fire... almost, but not yet

Now Playing: "Chariots of Fire" soundtrack by Vangelis. Track 1: "Titles".

This track is one of my favorite pieces of music, despite the synthesizer, which I usually don't like. My father burned this CD for me from an old vinyl LP that he had. When he gave it to me that first evening, he also told me some news that made me begin to realize the pain of growing up and not belonging where I had thought, all my childhood, that I belonged. As soon as he left my room, I put the CD into my player and turned up the volume. That poignant, indomitable theme swept me away into tears, tears that sparkled pale gold in the setting sun streaming through my window. Now, as I listen, I remember, in the midst of my heartache, that no matter where I am, my home is in my Heavenly Father (as one of my friends recently reminded me). There is no going back, but the best is yet to come. It lies ahead. And even if I don't attain it riding in chariots of fire, I will get there someday, and be at peace at last. That is what my heart longs for, and He has promised me that I will not be disappointed.

So, for today.

I stayed up way too late this morning/last night. Rachel and I ate breakfast together this morning, which left me only fifteen minutes to get across campus to oceanography class (at a brisk trot, I can tell you). In oceanography, we studied waves. We didn't get our exams back from last Thursday, but he assured us that we'd have them on Tuesday.

On my way out of oceanography, I once again picked up a quick canter to get to British Writers on time. On my way, I passed Liz, one of the girls who's in oceanography and a friend of Alisha's. (Alisha is an RUF girl--solidly Christian, sweet, quiet, plays the violin. What more could you ask for? :) Liz was strolling down the sidewalk. I slowed as I passed her. "Where are you going next?" I asked. "To art history," she replied dreamily. "I'm just taking my time, enjoying watching the trees change colors. I've never really seen them do that before." (She's from Houston.) As I went on my way, I, too, slowed down a little bit, my appreciation of the vivid crimson, gold, and bronze sharpened by Liz's own quiet appreciation.

In Major British Writers, we looked at Andrew Marvell and John Donne, both poets of the mid 1600's. We read Marvell's poem, "Bermudas", which is a psalm of praise from a group of English pilgrims arriving in the New World. Dr. S impressed on us the vividness and awesomeness of the New World after the dreariness of England and the three-month voyage across the Atlantic. "Imagine holding an orange in the middle of an English winter and biting into it. What an explosion of taste!" she said. She reminded us, also, that the New World was seen as a new Eden by some people, and thought of a Promised Land to be conquered and lived in.

Our discussion in Honors today got off slowly. For one thing, Dr. G mistakenly thought that Zoe was supposed to lead the discussion today. She wasn't. He raised his eyebrows when he realized this, paused, and then plunged into a lecture about how to write good papers. This took half-an-hour. Several people (among them a girl from the Pocahontas class) complained about the bad writing instruction they'd had. The class was rather slap-happy, and some comments made everyone, including Dr. G, burst into unquenchable laughter. Dan snidely suggested that, since we're all having such trouble writing about complicated subjects, perhaps the Honors program should start off with less philosophical works, "Say, for example Old Yeller." This made Dr. G laugh more than ever. The rest of us laughed, too, but more (I would venture to say) at Dr. G than at Dan's comment.

Once the discussion actually got off the ground, though, it was quite interesting. We're studying Greek drama, and now we're on "Oedipus the King", "Oedipus Rex" being, as Dr. G said, an oxymoron since it is formed from one Greek and one Latin word. He also was kind enough to point out that "Oedipus" is not pronounced with a short "e" at the beginning (a short "e" as in "bed"), but instead a long "e", as in "sheep". (Am I sleepy, or what? :) We talked about sympathy vs. empathy. Sympathy is feeling pity or compassion for someone's suffering, while empathy is actually feeling what the sufferer is feeling. We talked about surprise vs. suspense. Surprise is when you didn't know what would happen, and suspense is when you know what will happen, but you don't know how (Dr. G claims that suspense is a concept that Hitchcock got from Sophocles, the author of "Oedipus the King").

After class, Rachel and I walked briskly to lunch together. We sat with Jenny and Tara during lunch. (Both RUF girls. Have I introduced them to you all yet? Jenny is a tall, muscular girl with fair skin, very blond hair, a deep voice, and an infectious laugh. She's always the core of the conversation. Tara is Jenny's roommate. She's a petite, slender little girl, about the size of Daisy, with short, brown hair, and deep brown eyes. The corners of her mouth and the tip of her nose always seem to be turning up, like a mouse's.) Jenny found a couple of friends of hers from the rowing team to chat with, so Rachel, Tara, and I struck up a conversation together. Thanks to "Oedipus", it became deeply philosophical. Rachel is fascinated with the Aristotelian idea that we sympathize most with tragic characters who share our flaws. We understand them because we, too, have their problems. Also, as soon as we read about their demise (such as Oedipus in Sophocles's play and Nicias, an Athenian general who meets a tragic fate, in Thucydides's history), we immediately begin to try to figure out why their lives were so horrible. Rachel suggested that this is because humans always like to have logical reasons for the way the world works, and also because we like to think to ourselves, "Oh, because such-and-such happened to him, and not to me, my life won't be as terrible." Once we've found a reason for their demise, we can feel ourselves safe because that same sequence of events won't happen to us (or so we think). I wonder if this could be tied to a trend I've noticed in modern culture. It struck me this past Monday. I saw a sign reading, "Have a safe Halloween". Normally, you'd expect such a sign to read, "Have a happy Halloween". But it didn't. Perhaps we're seeing a shift in our culture away from the idea of happiness as an ideal; instead, safety and security have become ideals. Perhaps people have begun to feel unstable and insecure, and so instead of happiness are seeking safety. Perhaps this was at the back of Sophocles's mind, too, as he wrote his play. For if you are an old man whose parents are already dead, though you may share Oedipus's failings, you can feel quite safe in the knowledge that no such dreadful things are going to happen to you.

To be continued....