"Through the Wormhole" and E. M. Forster

Last night, as I was wracking my brain over writing this post on the writing style of E. M. Forster, my husband put on this program, hosted by Morgan Freeman (click on the link for a short video):

Through the Wormhole: Your Second Life

The program was a commentary about science's ability to determine the presence or absence of a creator. Of course, I ended up staying up long past my bedtime thinking about the theories that were discussed. And somehow, in my crazy mind, I established a connection between this idea of perpetual questioning with E.M Forster's A Room with a View.

The final theory in the program is explained in the above link. A jet propulsion scientist is questioned regarding his idea that, 50 years from now, we will surpass the human brain's thinking capacity. So, are we really becoming the deities, creating a bigger version of our own universe? If so, then who is operating us? And are we just some computer simulation, being programmed to feel a certain way by some master computer programmer somewhere beyond "the window of our own universe"?

Of course, since my own mind is programmed to completely go off track and apply any knowledge that I have attained to something completely unrelated (or not!), and since my mind was trying to get wrapped around the writing of E. M. Forster, I established a connection between this TV program and Forster's novel.

More specifically, I remembered Mr. Emerson's conversation with Lucy Honeychurch over his son George's melancholic disposition. Mr. Emerson talks about how "things won't fit" for George. The universe is all questions, but no answers. Mr. Emerson explains, "We know that we come from the winds, and that we shall return to them; that all life is perhaps a knot, a tangle, a blemish in the eternal smoothness. But why should this make us unhappy? Let's love one another, and work and rejoice. I don't believe in this world sorrow." Miss Honeychurch assented. "Then make my boy think like us. Make him realize by the side of the everlasting Why there is a Yes--a transitory Yes, if you like, but a Yes." I think if we observe science's never-ending search to find answers, we also need to step back and say, "Does it all really matter after all? We are only aware of our present existence from our birth (kind of-we are not really aware because we don't really remember) to our death (and this we may not be aware of either, if we are sick or mentally diseased), so let's just make the best of our time here and find out what is important about our existence in the here and now.

Wow! I just realized why I love writing and books so much. It is this exploration of our existence that I speak of, and why we read novels and watch films and recite poetry and sing songs. So, while I enjoy exploring science and its fascinations, I also understand that it really may not even matter in the whole scope of things. What matters is the here and now, and who we are and how we treat others, work together for a common good, and learning to love.

So to conclude, and to finally comment on Forster's writing style, the reason why E.M. Forster has always been the pinnacle to me of writing is not because of his amazing ability with language (he writes very simply, not as simple as Hemingway, but he doesn't really sway too much from the point), or his wit (which he does have), it is because he attempts to get right to the "quick" of humanity, our source, our reason for being and living. He exhibits a depth of characterization within this emphasis on the resounding "Yes". Who in his novels is willing to really "live", and to live with integrity, not because of societal expectations, or even to purposely rebel against society?

To me, this is the goal of us all. Breaking away from illusion. And for that to happen, I believe, education is the key, specifically a humanities-based education. I give this a resounding Yes, and a Yes, and a Yes!

Heading to the Shore

This will be my last post before writing group tomorrow and the start of our vacation, Wednesday. I know, it seems like I just started getting back into my blog, and I'm leaving already! Well, I hope to bring back many ideas for my writing, and I need the chance to relax and kick back for a while.

As I've been contemplating the idea of origins this week, I would like to end the week with this question, which I'm not sure has an answer:

When does one begin to call themselves a writer? Is it at the moment that the pen meets the paper for the first time? Does one have to wait until they are published so as not to be thought a fraud? I, myself, have always had trouble with this. Whenever I do introduce myself to someone as a writer, I immediately want to take it back. But, it's funny the reaction I get from people. I immediately am thought of as someone so cool (for the first time in my life, I might add.). People get so excited and immediately want to know what I write about and whether anything they do will appear somewhere in something that I create.

Still, within all this glory, I still feel it is too early. I guess it brings out my vulnerability, just like every time I press the "Publish Post" button on this blog!

Anyway, I hope everyone has a wonderfully exciting spring break and is able to enjoy the sunshine for a little bit, at the very least. I'll be back to post again very soon.

Those Elusive Beginnings

I'm finding that having this week's theme of origins in the back of my mind has affected both my reading and writing this week (even as I look back on all of my posts!). I am exploring the origins of love right now. Where does it begin? How can we break it down into its essence, its bare essentials? I am also contemplating the origins of our world--watching Nova and its theories of the universe's origins, exploring the theories of theism, and revisiting ancient literature. Surprisingly, I just starting reading the novel Twilight, after seeing the movie and being astounded by, not necessarily the film itself, but its whole concept and philosophy. The book has drawn me in, surprisingly. It's considered a young adult novel, and I, at 41 years of age, seem to be an unlikely reader, so I hide the cover when I am in public. But, I will admit, I am loving it. Twilight follows our theme this week. How can love transcend all? Does love begin at all, or has it always existed without our being aware of it? Can there be an ultimate attraction between two beings, stronger than everything else, stronger than life itself?

This is By Susan Harris-Gamard

This is...just is
As it should be.
Hands clasped, north and south
Two worlds collide and collapse within
Far beyond constriction.

Don't be afraid
To dive in.
Within
that greatest sense,
Only to find
That which you lost, long ago.

Emerge!

~to arise from or as if from an enveloping fluid: come out into view

~to become known or apparent

~to arise from an obscure or inferior position


I am ready to emerge....

A Birthing

Writing is like giving birth--excruciatingly painful to let go of those thoughts, yet liberating, glorious, and life-affirming at the same time, when you do. In the end, you meet someone or something you've never seen before, yet feel as though you've already met.


Great writing unfolds like a butterfly, stretching its wings for the first time.

The Origin of It All

The topic for next week's writing group will be "origins". Our assignment is to bring in an excerpt from something to do with this theme. Here is my take:

Origins~~~

roots, ancestry, parentage, birth, beginnings, emergence, rise, source, cause
the point at which something begins its course or existence
causes operating before the thing itself comes into being
naissance (french for 'birth')
a start
where something unique in itself begins
a beginning
a clean slate
jumping off point
Where does something really begin, be it an idea, a feeling, a person or being, a group, a creative process, or a product?

Next week's theme is very pertinent to my life right now as I consider my own origins and the origin of my own creative process. Where should my own jumping-off point be? How to begin a project or a piece of writing? How did my own beginnings, or childhood, affect me as a writer today? A piece may originate anywhere, be it in the middle, beginning, end or just as merely an essence or seed in the mind.

I thought I would share a glimpse inside my impressions of my own beginning, or "naissance":


My Red Velvet Cloak by Susan Harris-Gamard
~written in the Fall of 2003

Mother, Mother, where have you been?
I miss that red velvet cloak
You held within.
I miss its soft caress
full of smiles and warmth,
and the love of a kindred soul
long lost, but never forgotten.

Mother, Mother
please put it on...
It isn't worn, or full of dust,
not yet, if ever it was.
Ah, but you have given it to me, for keeps
and I have put it away in safety,
so that I too may unfurl
It's red river of comfort
to the next Bright Star, who waits, in the wings.