"W;t"

This week I have been discussing Margaret Edson’s “W;t” with the students in my English 112 course. In one scene, Vivian Bearing’s professor, E.M. Ashford, objects to an edition of text that Bearing has used to cite John Donne’s Holy Sonnet X. The edition to which Bearing has referred punctuates the line as “And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die!” Ashford reasons, “But it is ultimately about overcoming the seemingly insuperable barriers separating life, death and eternal life. In the edition you chose, this profoundly simple meaning is sacrificed to hysterical punctuation. ‘And Death’ capital D...’shall be no more;’ semi-colon. ‘Death,’ capital D, comma,‘thou shalt die!’, exclamation mark. Gardner's edition of the Holy Sonnet reads: ‘And death shall be no more,’ comma...’death thou shalt die’…Nothing but a breath, a comma, separates life from life everlasting. Very simple, really. With the original punctuation restored, death is no longer something to act out on a stage with exclamation marks. It is a comma. A pause. In this way, the uncompromising way, one learns something from the poem, wouldn't you say? Life, death. Soul, God. Past, present. Not insuperable barriers, not semicolons, just a comma.”

This scene in “W;t” gave me pause to consider the simplicity of what often separates us from what we deeply desire. Fear, uncertainty, or lack of belief in ourselves can separate us from living the life of our dreams. The need to be right, defensiveness, or an inability to deeply listen to another can separate us from love. And sometimes we make things more difficult with hysterical punctuation, when simply the use of a comma would eliminate the insuperable barriers.

Write about what keeps you separate from what you deeply desire, and then write about one thing you could do differently that would help you to obtain it.

Place, Home, and Community

I spent the weekend immersed in community-based activities surrounding a photography project in which I have been involved during the past nine months. The project is related to East End, a Black community in Asheville that was displaced during “urban renewal” in the 1980s. There was no renewal. The houses were not renovated, and the community was not fortified. Essentially, the people who lived, worked, and owned businesses in the community were forced out, and paved streets, parking lots, and city buildings took their place.

I took a walk by the lake in the snow yesterday afternoon. There was uncommon quiet that surrounded the shades of white and grey of the lake. Even the birds were scarce. I spotted only one lone white goose and two pairs of mallards swimming in the water. In the stillness, I became deeply aware of my feelings of aloneness.

Most of us deeply long for a sense of connection to place, home, and community. We long for a sense of belonging. When we find our place—whether it is through connection to the land, a house, a family, or a community, we feel at home. When we lose that connection because we move to a new place and haven’t yet settled, we have chosen a place that is not true to who we are, or our family or community is disrupted or divided, we feel an enduring sense of longing and loss.

Where do we find comfort while we search for a sense of place and home? I find comfort through attempting to recreate pieces of what feels like home—walking by the neighborhood lake, surrounding myself with objects that soothe me, watching the birds at my backyard feeder, and connecting with my family of friends. When the feelings of longing become too great, sometimes releasing the grief over the places that I have lost becomes essential. Today I’ll take another walk by the lake, and if the snow is cleared from the roads, I’ll get to my appointment for an hour of soothing touch by my favorite massage therapist.

Write about your connection to place, home or community. If you do not have the connection that you long for, write about what brings you comfort during your enduring search.