The MotherAunt Counterpoint

And now the MotherAunt, namely Mrs. Thornton, Mr. John Thornton's mother in North and South and Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Mr. Darcy's aunt in Pride and Prejudice.  Both women are tough old broads, independent without husbands, and fiercely protective of their heirs and subsequently their legacies. But here is where they begin to differ.
Lady Catherine is old money, high brow snobbery and prideful disdain.  Mrs. Thornton has lived in the luxury of self-made money, been brought low to destitution, and worked her family back up from it to live in luxury again.  She stood by her son and worked alongside him to get them out of debtor's prison.  Her legacy is to have taught her son how to scrape until parsimony, be parsimonious unto frugality, and be frugal even while rich.  Thornton himself cites his mother's lesson to Margaret as a virtue rather than fault during one of their many disagreements.  Lady Catherine de Bourgh also has a legacy: to impart the awesome responsibility of the family to the heir of hers, Fitzwilliam Darcy.  And she has done so.  Darcy's pride in himself, his family, his legacy, his responsibility, everything about himself, is ingrained in him, perhaps even to extent that he is all those things more than he is himself.  He lost sight of where his pride tipped him over the edge to snobbery rather than virtuousness.  Well done Lady Catherine.  It took Lizzy Bennett to undo that work.

Each woman is an extension of her prospective younger relation; Lady Catherine is Mr. Darcy's smugness magnified.  Even later, as Darcy thwarts Jane's marriage believing the family to be inconsistent in affection and decorum, he admits the same kind of resistance in consideration of his family when contemplating his own proposal to Lizzie.  He denied his own justified feelings for what he felt was the greater good.
Mrs. Thornton is the backbone of Mr. Thornton's industriousness. His father speculated their fortune away.  Mrs. Thornton will not allow this to happen again.  John denies himself just as Darcy does after his mother extracts a promise to not visit Miss Hale.  Darcy's reticence was self-inflicted while John's is not.  Still each of these matriarchs has her roots in the exemplified personification of our heroes.

Lady Catherine does not speak but to judge and point out fault.  Mrs. Thornton is seen to be almost sneering at times, even when giving good, sound, loving, motherly advice.  But that again is where they diverge and we see the influence of Gaskell's more nuanced vision of human relations.  Austen has caricatures with a single point or two of contrast in which we see how a single rule does not suit for every situation, for example, breeding does not imply good judgment.  Gaskell meanwhile creates a caricature of a woman similar to Lady Catherine, one whom we are meant to instantly dislike, but then introduces us to the more myriad characteristics inherent in all human beings.  Rarely are we all just good or just bad.  Austen uses the Single Rule technique, applying it to 2 very different situations in which we see life is not always so easy (Darcy's vs. de Bourgh's good breeding and good judgement); Gaskell applies the same kind of logic but individually.  We begin to see new sides of Mrs. Thornton, a woman who has known hardship but now lives in comfort because of her son, is fiercely proud of him for his hard work and dedication, and feels she understands completely the laziness and snobbery of the South because of the South's own prejudice toward tradesmen in general, be they worker or master.  The South makes no distinction and so she will not. 
When given a compliment by Mrs. Hale on the fine lace of her shawl, she retorts that the North can certainly produce products just as well made as the South, and with more industriousness.  Mrs. Hale intended to please and pacify Mrs. Thornton, but the notice is misconstrued and the latter more offended and certain of herself than ever.  Even Thornton himself comments, however kindly, that he is glad Milton's best wallpaper is fine enough to meet even moderate standards for Miss Hale.

Yet then we see Mrs. Thornton bound by a deathbed promise to Mrs. Hale to look after Margaret.  She is willing to do this because Mrs. Hale is dying and only on her own terms.  She states outright that she will not go easy on Margaret, already having one particular circumstance in mind, and relinquishes.  The two women have found their common ground.  Mrs. Thornton will don the mantle of guidance to the one person she believes will not listen to her, and if she were to heed the advice, would become a daughter in reality.

Mrs Thornton confides to her son that she extracted her own promise from him to not visit Miss Hale so that she might have one last night at the top of his affections, for she knows he goes to propose to Miss Hale.  We even see a counterpoint reprimand to Lady Catherine's visit to Lizzie at Longbourne, demanding that she refute an engagement to Darcy; Mrs. Thornton admonishes Miss Hale on the empty mill floor after it is closed down.  This is so near the end of the story however, that the reprimand is seen for what it is, a Mother Bear's growl and denial to accept pity.  There is no remaining, blatant assertion of inherent correctness due to class or position.  Miss Hale had already rejected Thornton's proposal; his mother is just angry.   Miss Hale recognizes this and offers affection instead of Lizzie's uppity dismissal of Lady Catherine.  To be sure, Lady Catherine deserved her rebuke.  But the contrast is obvious: Mrs. Thornton's statements are rigid but not nearly so bombastic and the young Affectionate openly recognizes the snap to stem from motherly concern.  She offers her own balm by countering with her dismay at the lack of industry in the place.

The reconciliation of this heroine and MotherAunt begin on much better terms than Lady Catherine and Lizzie's will.  (Though, Lawrence Olivier's Darcy has a more sympathetic aunt; she admits to setting Greer Carson's Lizzie on edge to be sure of her affection rather than deter it, something Darcy admits to in the book: the vehemence with which Lizzie will not promise to accept a renewed proposal from him only gives him hope.)

A quick note about the actor's accents in North and South:  Sinead Cusack plays Mrs. Thornton and her adopted lopsided speech makes way for the sneer and self-deprecating half-smile in turns.  Even Armitage's accent is uniquely northern.  His typical British accent is tweaked on only certain sounds to place him as having roots in the working class but with considerable education.  His sister, on the other hand, (also wonderfully acted) has the typical witless northern accent, made fun of by Brits as being almost Scottish and meant to denote dim-wittedness.  I cannot hear her without also recalling Fanny Squeers and her recitation of the letter sent to "Nickelboy's" uncle about a pin piercing her "motha's bren" and how she had a brain fever.  All are stupendous.

North & South & Pride & Prejudice

Lately I've been enthralled by the BBC production of the Elizabeth Gaskell novel North and South.  (Note: This is not about the civil war, but the rift between northern and southern English conceptions regarding industry.)  It's rich, well done and stars Richard Armitage as a fantastic Darcy-esque hero.  Which brings me to the point of my musing: I have noticed several similarities between North & South and Pride & Prejudice.  Just a few quick ones to get us started.  More later on each.
* Misconceptions upon first meeting
* A proud hero
* An overbearing mother
* A family scrape for our heroine which our hero resolves for her
* A slightly pernicious sister
* a greater and lesser house
* A midway marriage proposal resulting in heightened amorous feelings and an even better 2nd half.
And overall, complexities of character and situation in which similar relationships are portrayed in almost opposite ways.  Like... being friends with a lower class girl is fine when done with integrity and honesty, but when put in the hands of a dim-witted sister....
However, and this is where Gaskell surpasses Austen I think, (though let us not presume that had Austen wanted to she couldn't have held her own,) describing excellent examples of the complexities of a snowballing cultural change.  Whereas Austen masterfully uses sparring and intellectual conversation as her probe into human interaction, Gaskell just as superbly uses friction between the classes and growing sociological and economic discord.  One is a microcosm and the other a macrocosm.

Ok 'nuff for now.

Death

I had a new death dream the other night.
Let me preface by saying that I have old one.  I have had it only a few times, but multiple enough to file it into the category of Reoccurring Dream.  The old one is quite simple and doesn't have a lot of detail: I am trying to breathe and it gets harder and harder until I finally take the cleanest, clearest, deepest breath I've ever had in my life, pulling in the darkness of space and the stars, the most expansive open I can imagine--and that's my death.  I have been reassured by this dream, felt it as a true and concrete experience, more than any faith or spiritual teaching, which, all in all, are great for contemplation but don't have the realism that this dream has had for me.  Trust in what you know.

So now I have had this other dream, and it's not as comforting.  I don't think it negates the first one; I still believe my death will happen very much like that.  Or my new life will begin, as it were.*  But, I have had another Death dream.  It merits remembering.
The new dream goes like this:
I am on my bed, on a cotton, cream colored comforter, much like the one I own in beige, and am dressed in a light weight hospital type gown of the same, one of the more lengthy stay type gowns, not tying and still slightly open in the back.  The room is devoid of my personal items though it may in fact be my room.  I think it is.  My head is shaved or I am bald.  There is no hospital type equipment except maybe a single I.V. and pole.  I can't feel any equipment connecting it to my arm though.  On the bed beside me is my white computer, open and playing through a slideshow of the photograhs from my life.  All of them.  Any Shannon has taken, any I remember or have in a book.  All the photographs I remember are playing through a cycle on the screen.  It's oddly comforting, to be reminded of these wonderful moments as I lay dying, to watch all the good things and remember them.  And I am comforted.  I am being slowly swallowed up in a similar kind of suffocation as the first dream, but more consciously.  And it's this consciuos that nags at me.  I feel myself slipping away and try to fight it, taking at last one comeback breath, but not The Big Breath.  Each time I go through this it feels like falling, like dropping off to sleep and recalling oneself only to slip back again.  I want to go, but at the last I lose my peace and grasp again for life.  Despite this obvious situation, and the happiness I derive from having my memories play kindly for me, so I can watch them as I die, I keep climbing back to Life.
Claude pushes past some people to enter my otherwise empty room and I let him curl up beside me, turning my face from the computer and kissing him repeatedly, as parents do with their children when they cuddle.  And I am suddenly terrified that I will finally slip away and he will wake up to a dead me, a mother cold and lifeless and he will be frightened too.   I don;t want this to happen to him, but I do not want to give up this last bit of time to hold him and feel his soft hair.  He is my boy and am breathing better beside him but it is now certain that I cannot outlast his sleep.
The dream ends without conclusion or resolution.

*Wouldn't that be cool?   The name for this existence is Life and the name for the next existence is Death.  The word Death is not an event but the next life.  However, being grounded in one existence, we hear only spotty and misleading information about the one to come after.  In Death, we'll probably hear tell of a thing equally as scary as Death was in Life.  I'll use this idea in a story sometime, so don't steal it outright, but if I've inspired you, go for it!  It seems like a cool idea to me.

Contra-indictated

Here's what's weird: in a new drug ad (1) for a medication called Uloric, recommended to treat Gout (2), my medication (3) was listed as one of those not to be taken before taking Uloric.  I immediately felt preferred, distinguished, famous (4).  Thousands of people heard the name of my medication!  And it wasn't just me.  My husband turned to look at me at the same time with the same look of singled-out surprise.

Here's why it's weird:
1.  I hate those ads.  They annoy me.  The side affects are often worse than the disease or condition they are proposing to abate.  Or they're just crazy.  Coma and Death are some of my favorite.  (Death!  As a symptom!  Huzzah.)  And, I've never felt any affiliation with the now-happy and no longer suffering people or their ailments.  Luckily, I not old enough (I guess) to have the particular condition, or tangently lucky, I have one of my own that I cope with just fine (a).
2. They still call it Gout?  I thought Gout was like Consumption or at the very least, had been vaccinated out of existence.  Coma and Death and Gout!
3. My medication is Imuran, generic name Azathioprine.  Azathioprine is the one that was mentioned.  Listen for it!
4. Why am I excited about about having my medication mentioned in the kind of t.v. advertisement that galls me?  (Gout and Gall!)
        a. I cope better than most Chron's patients--not of my own accord, mostly it's up to luck--and have had a better time of it than most from the very beginning.  So, go Azathioprine!  And keep on keeping on, body o' mine.
(Coma or Death!  Gout and Gall!)

I call upon Thee

A phrase today from a churchy-type service:
Yahweh, Allah, Gaia; Yemaya, Zeus, Kimet--I call upon thee, whose influence I need right now.

So.  We call upon the god whose traits we need to guide us in a particular moment or situation.  Not unlike the Greek gods and goddesses.  Baking?  Call upon Hestia.  Going into battle?  Athena, Aries or Artemis.  Love woes?  Well, you know.  So, in today's pantheon of monotheisms, do we still call upon a particular deity for the same reason?  The Christian god is merciful (now) and we pray for mercy for ourselves or that we may be merciful to others, and need a little help with that.  Or patience like Job, or various other purges and influences.  Judaism focuses on the Master of the Universe through whom all things flow.  These are monotheistic deities after all, they must encompass all the traits we will need.  Which means they are all basically the same.  So what, then, draws us to one religion versus another, if not a particular deity for its trait?
We grow up Christian and become Buddhist.  We grow up Catholic and become Atheist.  We grow up Agnostic and are Born Again.  I think the truth is that we still do seek out what traits we need.  As we grow, sometimes our faith grows with us (for all those Catholics who are still Catholic,) and for others, we grow into our faith, into our new god.  Or we find our faith in other places, still in light and kindness, but without name.
I guess the point, really, is only this: recognize, take notice, of the act of calling upon that thing which you need.  Are they not all equal in the asking?  Of course they are.  So just mark the action, understand that we do this, that we ask for whom we need by what we seek.  Focus not on the prayer, on the problem, but the simple act of the asking.

Monkey Brain

I read something the other day that caught my interest:
"No matter how fast man may eventually travel with his massive monkey brain, he will need to acquire self-knowledge that will allow him to accommodate the horse-and-buggy pace of his alligator and rabbit brain compartments."
(excerpt from a self-published pamphlet by a man in our church)

A quick definition: (loosely) monkey brain refers to the highly evolved human thought process; rabbit brain is the emotional response system, and alligator is the pre-programmed ancestral experience.

This assertion resonated with me, both as an interesting idea for a story or follow-up kind of meditation (poem, etc.--whatever your fancy) but also as a theme that reoccurs often in science fiction.  We seem to have a handle on the concept, if not the act itself.  'Don't let technology get the better of you! 'we warn ourselves in episode after episode, movie after movie.  The idea behind the quote is not to let technology carry you away.  Don't get so pompous on your microbes and electrodes that you can't deal with the consequences.  And for humans, that means being able to allow the other parts of our brains to catch-up to what we've done.  Or better yet, keep those aspects in mind in the first place.
The movie Hollow Man first came to mind.  Scientists accidentally discovered a way to change the human structure and the result was ground-breaking...and terrifying.  This is almost quintessential sci-fi plot.
Delving a little more deeply though, I begin to understand the quote in a slightly different manner: No matter what you can figure out, you're always going to need to reconcile it with your more primitive parts.  Whatever you can imagine doesn't matter if the ancestral and emotional parts of your thinking can't grasp the concept too.  Is it a hindrance or a governor?  Think of fiction, of Heinlein and his Valentine Michael Smith who shut down to grok things.    Meditation, allowance, time--all these things to bring our parts in concordance.  When I feel my world spinning too fast, I will allow myself the time to take a minute.  My new mantra is, Wait up there, monkey brain!

Everybody's Doing It

So, everybody is blogging.  It seems the journal has taken on new dimension in blogging.  For me, I believe one of the best ways to become a better writer is, as with so many things, to practice.  And, also a personal preference, knowing essays are my weakest format, I'm going to become clearer and more concise here.  Ha-ha!  Fun for you.  ;)