A Little Too Dramatic

Imagination run amok…

Pilgrim on a Long, Long Journey

I was about 45. I had a front row center seat in a small local theater. I was watching a play about a young Jewish woman who had become a Carmelite nun.

I believe this was Arthur Giron’s play based on Edith Stein’s life. She was both a nun as I’ve noted and a writer of great depth. Ms. Stein was sainted by the Pope in the late 90s.

At this point in the play, two Nazi Storm Troopers, hob nail boots and all, marched out on stage. The two men looked as mean as rabid dogs. They arrested the nun directly above my seat. It scared the wits out of me.

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The Mind’s Eye

“Readers themselves, I think, contribute to a book. They add their own imaginations, and it is as though the writer only gave them something to work on, and they did the rest.” Marjorie Rawlings, who was the Pulitzer-winning author of The Yearling.

That is one reason 99 percent of us love a refreshing story. It’s a visual streaming into our conscious minds. 

For example, Steinbeck in East of Eden wrote these engaging words in a way only he could: “Once a woman told me that colored flowers would seem more bright if you added a few white flowers to give the colors definition. Every petal of blue lupin is edged with white, so that a field of lupins is more blue than you can imagine. And mixed with these were splashes of California poppies. These too are of a burning color—not orange, not gold, but if pure gold were liquid and could raise a cream, that golden cream might be like the color of the poppies.”

We can imagine, John. Lord knows these are the stories taking us to another time, another place, and the interior experience of another. They can help settle the turmoil surfacing on some of our days.