Yesterday one of my prayers was answered. I was able to find a
college in my state that has an online BA program in Liberal Arts with an
emphasis on literature. After I found this college, everybody knew as well. Each
day, the fumes of literature fill my lungs and fingertips. Each page turns in
writers and stories. I feel empowered by literature. This is not a sign of
weakness but a sign of strength. The more I read, the more I am able to relate
to issues that are happening in the world.
Granted, I do refuse the majority of modern novels and shows. I do not, however
refuse to read writers who have come before my time. Perhaps I was not made for
this world in modern times. I reject wealth because money will get a person
nowhere the way love and tenderness will. I reject large institutions because
smaller things in life add up to the whole. I refuse to conform to dressing the
way of modern women because this does not provide justice to the self within
the body. I refuse to accept my state’s adoption law stating that people with
mental illnesses and physical disabilities have no place raising a child. Everything
I reject in modern times makes me the complete woman I am today.
When I was a small child, I remember watching television at Mema
and Gran’s house in southern Oklahoma. Female swimmers were lined up in a
swimming pool. As they swam, I did as well. I was swimming in a pool of carpet
with these swimmers. There was nothing I could not do that these ladies could
not do. I was one of them. These lovely swimmers wore respectful one piece
swimsuits and had their hair pinned up in buns. These women taught me early on
in the world that dreams really could come true for any woman – disabled or
not!
I am able to take this experience with me into adulthood. In this
walk we call, we fall victim to oppression, discrimination, assaults,
injustices, and other vices we might not even know exist. We must find our place
in this world. We must learn how to cope and adapt to change. We must let our
hearts and reason take over. We must surrender to our passions. Only then can
we belong. Only then can our dreams happen.
Being given the opportunity to get my BA in Liberal Studies with an
emphasis on literature is something I value greatly. When I graduated in July
with my Associates in Liberal Studies, there was a feeling of entrapment. This entrapment
has become more of a feeling of a desire to be forever in debt to the male and
female writers and advocates who have come before me. Two years ago when I was
in the hospital recovering from my last blood clot, nothing made sense. I sat
in a hospital bed with regrets, guilt, and starvation for truth.
Last year on the exact same date of entering the Emergency Room, my
Liberal Studies began. Three of the most intense courses I pursued were
American Literature, English Literature, and Ethics in the Criminal Justice
System. By mid-semester, my mind was physically exhausted! As new ideas and
characters were presented to me, everything changed. No longer did I wonder why
no Conservative Studies programs were offered – I knew and understand. The child
in me stepped into the role of adulthood.
A prime example I have in relation to this thought process is the character
Shoeless Joe Jackson from the movie Field
of Dreams. In the movie, Shoeless Joe is a young baseball who has dreams of
making it big in the business. As time passes, we learn that Shoeless Joe
chooses a career as a loving doctor. In this particular scene, a child chokes
on a hot dog and bun. Nobody is able to save this girl’s life except Shoeless
Joe. Our heart breaks for the dreams Shoeless Joe loses as he crosses over from
boyhood into manhood. This mature, rational decision makes everybody have great
respect for his unselfish moral character.
I am able to relate this
great respect of moral character to the great men and women of literature who
have paved the way for readers to grow more as individuals. When she wrote,
Virginia Woolf would spend the morning handwriting manuscripts and the
afternoon typing these manuscripts. This female author invested so much energy
into her stories that she would suffer from nervous breakdowns afterwards. When
I read her thoughts, I see depth to this bright woman. I am honestly sad about
Woolf’s tragic suicide. I strongly believe our world is a much better place
because of this woman’s words through her pen and paper. I am able to relate to
Woolf’s thoughts in ways most people may not understand. This is okay.
Woolf’s words have also helped me with my recovery. I do not think
of sweets, soda, or eating fatty foods as much. I have a room of my own. My room
is Mirrored Reflections. I am able to write freely. I am able to help other
women. I am able to express my feelings about birth control, literary
characters and their creators, writings, news stories, marriage, and so much
more. In the mornings after I type, I am able to work out, clean off, and feel
fresh. I feel empowered by literature. Literary men and women before me have
made this world a better place. I believe education is my key for improvement
and guidance. I want to write like the greats. At the same time, I need prayer
and the power to continue to exhibit discipline. I am hungry for more knowledge
in the field of literature. There are ideas, writers, and literary characters I
have yet to discover.
One thing about my husband that I love is his amusement of me. When
I hug him, I think of a literary character. When I make a disgruntled comment,
my husband knows I am thinking about a piece of literature. My husband knows
that his wife literally breathes literature. I bask in the glory of literature.
When ii was unable to read literature for the first six months I was on
Warfarin Sodium, something changed. I could not eat salads or vitamin k. This became
a lonely journey for me. I had to sacrifice two things that made me happy on a
daily basis. I had to for my health. Now that my health is under control, I eat
salad at night and I read in the day and night. The more I am able to read, the
more of a healing I have.
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| Luigi loves to read with me |
I am looking forward to having Luigi as my supervisor again on this
journey. I still remember the night I was sick and typed my final paper for
Women’s Literature during the summer. These literary characters and I had such
a grand party staying up late! So did my furry little sneaky son. His bag of
Beneful was on the floor. I realized this after I had returned to bed from the
bathroom. I was ready to sleep. I heard a noise in the kitchen. I turned on the
lamp by me. Luigi was crawling under the chair we had and the bag of Beneful
was underneath. This dog had outsmarted me. Oh, my youthful offender of a
Chihuahua son! What am I going to do with him?
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