a narrative, an analysis, a meta(?)-analysis...
In response to Chris's prompt in the previous post...
[i] When I was in Head Start, we rode a small bus home through the country. We all rode a big bus to school in the morning, but since Head Start was a half-day, the bus ride home was composed of only about eight of us. Those of us who lived northeast of town all rode the same bus, and, since my parents were only five miles outside of town, I was the first one off. I don't remember which of these two memories came first, but honestly, I can't remember anything before school started.
One memory involves me playing with James (who shared my birthday, the autumnal equinox; we would always be connected as twins) and his GI Joe's. I remember him putting a GI Joe head in his mouth, between his teeth, so that the body extended out, as if James were King Kong and the GI Joe another victim, but instead of ripping the head off and tossing the body aside, James had decided to leave the body there, dangling. I remember grabbing the GI Joe and yanking, and hurting James's teeth in doing so. No long-term damage — no blood or knocked out teeth. But I remember Ginger or Rachel (who was it) scolding me for hurting him.
And I remember being thankful that the bus ride was so short that I could get off first. I remember feeling this paranoia that they were talking about me even after I got off the bus: "Stupid Michael. Why is he so annoying? Why would he do that?"
The other memory involves getting off of that tiny bus on another day and being surprised when I got home that my family was eating lunch before I even got there. This story probably took place earlier than the other because it would make sense for this to happen early on that school year. I can't remember many specifics, other than either Mom or Dad explaining that they didn't have to wait for me for lunch. No, we called it dinner then. This was a foreign idea to me, I think, because we had almost always eaten together as a family.
[ii] In a way, I failed at the prompt because Chris asked us to just report, and I went into analysis in the narrative: causation, speculation... but more on that later, I think). What do these experiences say about me? I was obviously working class, growing up on a farm. We were poor enough that I qualified for Head Start, and I had a rural background, which, for me, meant social isolation as a child. I don't remember interacting with a single other child (besides my two little brothers) before I entered Head Start, which could be an instance of poor memory, or could be evidence of isolation. I also think I had a lot of insecurities about being "different" and not knowing how to function like everyone else. The memory of the dinner reminds me of our rural upbringing (the use of the term dinner or lunch would be a point of contention between me and my urban friends when I went off to college). I am also reminded of how "together" my family used to seem, but then how later we were very fragmented, especially when I began to be more social in junior high and high school, and when we all became more busy (Dad took on more part time jobs, Mom began to work, we all went to school and became involved). It seems that me going off to school for the first time was, in a way (if I'm not putting too much on this story), the beginning of a series of fragmentations of our family. Separation begins (or had already began with birth and the awareness of the self, but would continue at a faster pace now).
[iii] John Shea writes about narrative, analysis, and revelation. From my understanding, he says that we use narrative to deal with emotions (usually extreme, including fear, terror, joy, elation, sorrow, shame, mystery, hope). We often have stories that come before us, that are part of our community and that inform who we are. We tell stories that are based in some form of reality, and then, through thinking about them, we can better understand our world, and perhaps even have a revelation, or even a rendezvous (is this a good word for this) with the Sacred.
Applied to my narrative: I see archetypal "conflicts between brothers" when I added that we viewed each other as twins, though the twins part is a bit retroactive, as we didn't yet use that term. I also see that I told myself stories about what was going on after I got off the bus, even though I couldn't know. This was to cope with emotions, yes, but unfortunately, it was a healthy cognition because it only increased shame, fear, and isolation. I also see what would become my central narrative growing up: isolation is a good solution to social problems. When I am uncomfortable or unsure how to act, or when I am shamed or scolded, it is easiest to isolate myself, to withdraw. This would become my way of behaving for years (and it's still the way my father behaves).
Applied to my analysis, I see that I was able to better understand my family and our separation because of this story. I suppose it provoked a sense of a "loss of sacred" in me: I have suffered the loss of my family closeness, something I'm constantly coping with and haven't reconciled....
I am running out of time and like the immediacy of posting something directly after writing it, so I am going to close with a few thoughts. I am really drawn to Shea's theory, but something is bothering me. He makes a distinction between narrative and analsysis, yet I find this hard to do. Part of this comes from my understanding of story telling and writing as analysis and synthesis. We have to analyze which details we want to include, what is important, and then synthesize all these materials. This goes back to how I have some "analysis" in my narrative, and how when I was writing I struggled not to do this, but when I realized I felt it was impossible, I went ahead and kept it.
I am wondering how Shea would react to this problem. If I were to guess, I'd say that Shea would say that there is some form of "divine inspiration / mystery inspiration" that helps to inform us which details to put into a narrative. As an agnostic/atheist, I find this hard to buy, honestly, but I don't know if that's how Shea would answer. I am open to hearing what others think...
[i] When I was in Head Start, we rode a small bus home through the country. We all rode a big bus to school in the morning, but since Head Start was a half-day, the bus ride home was composed of only about eight of us. Those of us who lived northeast of town all rode the same bus, and, since my parents were only five miles outside of town, I was the first one off. I don't remember which of these two memories came first, but honestly, I can't remember anything before school started.
One memory involves me playing with James (who shared my birthday, the autumnal equinox; we would always be connected as twins) and his GI Joe's. I remember him putting a GI Joe head in his mouth, between his teeth, so that the body extended out, as if James were King Kong and the GI Joe another victim, but instead of ripping the head off and tossing the body aside, James had decided to leave the body there, dangling. I remember grabbing the GI Joe and yanking, and hurting James's teeth in doing so. No long-term damage — no blood or knocked out teeth. But I remember Ginger or Rachel (who was it) scolding me for hurting him.
And I remember being thankful that the bus ride was so short that I could get off first. I remember feeling this paranoia that they were talking about me even after I got off the bus: "Stupid Michael. Why is he so annoying? Why would he do that?"
The other memory involves getting off of that tiny bus on another day and being surprised when I got home that my family was eating lunch before I even got there. This story probably took place earlier than the other because it would make sense for this to happen early on that school year. I can't remember many specifics, other than either Mom or Dad explaining that they didn't have to wait for me for lunch. No, we called it dinner then. This was a foreign idea to me, I think, because we had almost always eaten together as a family.
[ii] In a way, I failed at the prompt because Chris asked us to just report, and I went into analysis in the narrative: causation, speculation... but more on that later, I think). What do these experiences say about me? I was obviously working class, growing up on a farm. We were poor enough that I qualified for Head Start, and I had a rural background, which, for me, meant social isolation as a child. I don't remember interacting with a single other child (besides my two little brothers) before I entered Head Start, which could be an instance of poor memory, or could be evidence of isolation. I also think I had a lot of insecurities about being "different" and not knowing how to function like everyone else. The memory of the dinner reminds me of our rural upbringing (the use of the term dinner or lunch would be a point of contention between me and my urban friends when I went off to college). I am also reminded of how "together" my family used to seem, but then how later we were very fragmented, especially when I began to be more social in junior high and high school, and when we all became more busy (Dad took on more part time jobs, Mom began to work, we all went to school and became involved). It seems that me going off to school for the first time was, in a way (if I'm not putting too much on this story), the beginning of a series of fragmentations of our family. Separation begins (or had already began with birth and the awareness of the self, but would continue at a faster pace now).
[iii] John Shea writes about narrative, analysis, and revelation. From my understanding, he says that we use narrative to deal with emotions (usually extreme, including fear, terror, joy, elation, sorrow, shame, mystery, hope). We often have stories that come before us, that are part of our community and that inform who we are. We tell stories that are based in some form of reality, and then, through thinking about them, we can better understand our world, and perhaps even have a revelation, or even a rendezvous (is this a good word for this) with the Sacred.
Applied to my narrative: I see archetypal "conflicts between brothers" when I added that we viewed each other as twins, though the twins part is a bit retroactive, as we didn't yet use that term. I also see that I told myself stories about what was going on after I got off the bus, even though I couldn't know. This was to cope with emotions, yes, but unfortunately, it was a healthy cognition because it only increased shame, fear, and isolation. I also see what would become my central narrative growing up: isolation is a good solution to social problems. When I am uncomfortable or unsure how to act, or when I am shamed or scolded, it is easiest to isolate myself, to withdraw. This would become my way of behaving for years (and it's still the way my father behaves).
Applied to my analysis, I see that I was able to better understand my family and our separation because of this story. I suppose it provoked a sense of a "loss of sacred" in me: I have suffered the loss of my family closeness, something I'm constantly coping with and haven't reconciled....
I am running out of time and like the immediacy of posting something directly after writing it, so I am going to close with a few thoughts. I am really drawn to Shea's theory, but something is bothering me. He makes a distinction between narrative and analsysis, yet I find this hard to do. Part of this comes from my understanding of story telling and writing as analysis and synthesis. We have to analyze which details we want to include, what is important, and then synthesize all these materials. This goes back to how I have some "analysis" in my narrative, and how when I was writing I struggled not to do this, but when I realized I felt it was impossible, I went ahead and kept it.
I am wondering how Shea would react to this problem. If I were to guess, I'd say that Shea would say that there is some form of "divine inspiration / mystery inspiration" that helps to inform us which details to put into a narrative. As an agnostic/atheist, I find this hard to buy, honestly, but I don't know if that's how Shea would answer. I am open to hearing what others think...
posted by Michael Faris @ 12:32 PM
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