Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Lost Path

No other animal dares doubt fate...
It was Frost who said, “Nothing gold can stay,” and Frost who wrote Home Burial, one of the poems we’ve looked at already this semester. Home is a place littered with ghosts and riddled with the voices of those who have breathed and fought before us. Their whispers and howls can either guide us and make our way easier or be the drumbeat as we fight a war against the tangled webs of fate.
Neither way is easy, no life is without pain or death. And yet, we stride through life so sure that love and hope and happiness await us. The human spirit with its indomitable belief that something greater waits over the horizon is unique in all of animal kind insofar as no other creature seems certain of the promise of something good coming from simply existing. An animal stuck in a trap or hit by a car doesn’t look to the distance, waiting for rescue…they almost seem to accept their destiny while the human claws and awaits their salvation to that last gasping breath.
Can Teddy save you from the dark?
What so separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom? What makes us so sure that we won’t become the abandoned farmhouse where something went wrong, where nothing managed to save the toys or unbreak the dish? Is it our belief in the fairytale, in the magical rescue? Is it the whispers of some invisible voice from childhood promising that all would one day be better if we just believed? Is it Disney’s lies and illusions reaching out from the Magic Kingdom, offering tiaras and thrones to us all if we just believe and clap loud enough to scare away the darkness?
Or is it simply that we as humans have conquered so much, risen out of the primordial muck and proved we’re more than our sum parts in the past and know that we shall do so again, that makes us endure when we might otherwise give up and forget trying to stumble down that broken path to find the lost way home?


About the author:  

Virginia Nelson believed them when they said, “Write what you know.” Small town girl writing small town romance, her characters are as full of flaws, misunderstandings, and flat out mistakes as Virginia herself. When she’s is not writing or plotting to take over the world, she likes to hang out with the greatest kids in history, play in the mud, drive far too fast, and scream at inanimate objects. Virginia likes knights in rusted and dinged up armor, heroes that snarl instead of croon, and heroines who can’t remember to say the right thing even with an author writing their dialogue. Her books are full of snark, sex, and random acts of ineptitude—not always in that order.

 
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