Quotation: On the Process of Healing (And the Surprises of a Pandemic)

Time is usually the best medicine

— Ovid (43 B.C.E.-17 C.E.), Roman Poet

In this post, I get a little personal with Ovid's quote on time and healing.

A young boy dresses up as a physician for Halloween.

Is Ovid's Prescription for Healing On Point?

     Thank you, Ovid. You old miser of a poet. I think of you and your prescription on time when I think of my ankle. Ever since the global outbreak of the Coronavirus and nearly the entire planet in isolation — I have been off my legs more than usual. Staying at home, I can elevate my ankle even when I am working and I have taken to piling up a corner of my bed with pillows. I prop up my leg and watch whatever's popping on Amazon Prime Video. 

*snapshot of me looking not quite so elegant* 

      I am pitiful at self-care even though I preach it to my friends. "Self-care," I tell my work wife Amira, "Yes, mama." "No," I tell her when she imitates me. It's "Ma-MA" — you have to enunciate it like a proper gay homo sapiens. Of course, she reminds me that she is not gay (so how the heck would she know how to pronounce it correctly?) — but she loves my epithets and exonerations. I call Amira my work wife because she is. We work together at the same school and even though we had a rocky start to our relationship — she thought I was a creepy straight, nerd guy with glasses — we hit it off once she realized I am a flaming homosexual and yes, I'm still a nerd guy with glasses. Yay! Identity politics at play. And friendship. It comes in joyous bursts way more comforting than an ill-fitted ankle.

Ankle Pain and Estranged Boyfriends (And a Shoutout to My Work Wife, Amira) 

     I've had ankle pain in my left leg for, oh, about five years. It comes and goes. Short spasms of pain, then the pain subsides, and I forget about it. And like a surprise call from my estranged boyfriend, it returns — a familiar pain — I've almost become used to it. Like I've become used to my former boyfriend who sends me Facebook messages when I least expect it — a familiar cycle where I realize why we are estranged, what brought us farther apart. But. I like him. But the lingering sadness of why we broke up still remains. 

      Suffering is not an abstract concept. However, suffering is also not transitive — it does have a discernible object — it's there, you feel it but it's not like you can say, "There. There is my pain." I say, for instance, "I am sad. I am forlorn. I am aggrieved;" in fact, "I feel" is a grammatically correct sentence. But you cannot say, "I am pain." To say, "I suffer" is a close approximation, but even this utterance seems to lack the punch of an object, of a source of suffering. Perhaps that is why we call people who suffer, "patients" — since suffering (and by extension) pain — is a passive emotion, a feeling of protracted misery that takes time to heal.

Healing Wounds With the Best Medicine — Time

     One version of Ovid’s quote is “Time heals all wounds,” rather than time is a proper drug. I like the idea of time healing wounds — but did you know that Alfred E. Neuman once said time heals all wounds, except for your belly button? And I am fairly positive that Adam and Even did not have to worry about that particular wound since they technically did not have umbilical cords. Thank you, first parents. You made it suck for the rest of us.

The outbreak has brought me a strange gift of healing. I am grateful, right?

     The photo (above) is cringe-worthy. I step outside. How ’bout dat? And I say, “You did this for what?” Crossing the avenue to drop off mail in the blue U.S. Post Office box, I think, ‘Who will collect this? I hope they stay safe.’ I feel a tinge of worry. This feeling of needing to stay protected. How everyday activities have become tinged with anxiety. The social contract has taken a beating this season. It’s rainy. Today. And I just read in the newspaper that a polar vortex is set to hit the northeast. I long for a long hike in the Catskills. And for the fun of it - a visit to the sauna - I could use a peppermint soaked hot house shower - don’t you? And my ankle feels better. I am surprised. I feel strength returning to my tired tendons. A source of life has come back to me — a paradoxical gift of this damn epidemic. Thank you, Covid-19 — you ugly, mothereffer. Self-care, yes, Mama! (That’s pronounced Ma-MA).

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A Lesson in Opposing Viewpoints: On Appearances and First Impressions

Don't trust too much in appearances.

Quintillian, Ancient Roman Teacher and Writer (c. 35 - c. 100 C.E.) 

Clothes make the man.

Recorded by Erasmus, Counter-Reformation Writer, and Scholar (1466 - 1536 C.E.) 

N.B. The phrase is found in Multiple Babylonian, Greek, and Latin Sources. Even Polonius in William Shakespeare's Hamlet says it: "The apparel doth oft proclaim the man."

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

Two Ideas About How One Ought To Present Oneself

     Here is a set of dueling philosophies — one based on suspicion of outward appearance — and the other, an appraisal of appearance's worth in civilized society. Which one rings more true?

     I want to trust in the idea that appearances do not tell the entire story of a person. However, I read once that the average person takes X seconds to make a judgment about a person they just met. Do I think you should dress appropriately for a job interview? Yes. But getting the job, keeping it, excelling at it, and growing as a person — will take more than appearances. So maybe the lesson is that you show the world what they want to see and hope they can see who you really are once you get your foot in the door. However, I am tickled by this notion that if we did not judge by appearances — as much — wouldn't the world be a better place. I am thinking of internalized racism — the idea that society is infused with systematic racist beliefs that undermine everyday people's ability to be successful. I had a boss that said, "Dress for success" and "Fake it till you make it," but I think she also told us in a work meeting that she says those things because we live in a world that does judge by appearances. One has to rise up to the occasion — but what about when we meet oppression and resistance to our goals because of our appearance?

The Moral Dilemma of the Two Television News Anchors  

     I think of a dilemma I once read: two television news anchors apply for a competitive job at a cable news station. The job requires facetime on-air every day during primetime television. The first candidate has a degree in media broadcasting, but they have a missing front tooth. The second candidate has a degree in English, but they score well on visual appeal (according to an internal poll). Is there a moral problem in hiring the second candidate based on visual appearance, only? This dilemma bothers me because most people I present this problem to will say, "Hire the candidate with the most experience and the best background for the job" — but I see on social media how people will degrade media personalities for the way they look. There is cognitive dissonance in our society.

Can We Have Our Cake and Eat It Too?

     On the one hand, we want to celebrate ability and prop up a meritorious system based on skill and aptitude — but we are held back by our biases and what we deem "normal." How do we break the cycle? Let me know in the comments. 

Sources: 

• Erasmus, Desiderius, and Barker, William Watson. The Adages of Erasmus. Canada, University of Toronto Press, 2001.
• Stone, Jon R. The Routledge Dictionary of Latin Quotations: The Illiterati's Guide to Latin Maxims, Mottoes, Proverbs, and Sayings. The United Kingdom, Routledge, 2005.

Download this educational digital download for free on Teachers Pay Teachers, and Made by Teachers.

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Quotation: On the Hoped-for-Hopelessness of Fame (and its Many Counterparts)

Si post fata venit gloria no propero.

*

If fame comes after death I am in no hurry for it.

— Martial (40-102 C.E.), Roman epigrammatist

Photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash

On Death and Fame from Ancient Rome

In Ancient Rome, Twitter hadn't been invented. But — they sure did have epigrams — a short string of text that delivered a potent, salient message. In this post, I supply you with an epigram on death and fame from the ancient Roman writer Martial. It is a pithy quote — and remarkably accurate for our fame-obsessed American culture and society. 

Martial's Quote is a One, Two Punch in the Gut

The quote has a double pang to it — first, it is a quick jab to fame itself. It alludes to the nature of celebrity as elusive — in the same way, we see TikTokers and YouTubers all vying for a piece of the fame-pie on social media. Second, it is a reminder that one ought to be careful about how one chooses to live out their life. The temporal finitude of life. And — really, who will remember me — ten, twenty, one hundred years from now? 

But, Even When Considering Finitude . . .

On a more positive note — perhaps it is not beneficial to think of remembrance in such grand, macro terms. People remember me now. And perhaps, I won't end up like Emily in Faulkner's short story — a rose will be placed on my grave. I am also thinking about Nietzsche's demon in a paragraph from his book The Joyful Wisdom — commit yourself to this life even if it is final and limited. Now don't get too upset. Like people do — it's not morbid to talk about death — if it is a call to action to live one's life.

Source: Roberts, Kate Louise. Hoyt's New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations. United Kingdom, Funk & Wagnalls Company, 1922.

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Quotation: On Considering Heteronormativity in Society (Thank you, Jane Austen)

It's a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. 

Mrs. Bennet — from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, Nineteenth-Century British Novelist

Photo by Adam King on Unsplash

Source: Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. United Kingdom, RD Bentley, 1853.

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Proverbial Quotation On Doing Something Too Little Too Late

Proverbs are meant to be short, pithy practical statements. Perhaps the most famous collection of proverbs come from the Hebrew Bible. But here, I have for you a proverb from a different source —

It's a wretched business to be digging a well just as thirst is coming over you.

— Plautus, Ancient Roman playwright (c. 250 - 184 B.C.E.)

Sources: Pickering, David, et al. The Facts on File Dictionary of Proverbs. United States, Facts On File, 2007. / Nixon, Paul, and Melo, Wolfgang David Cirilo de. Amphitryon. United Kingdom, Harvard University Press, 2011.

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image credit: Photo by Vivek Doshi on Unsplash

Navigating the Emotional Upsurge in COVID-19 Times: Reflections & Coping Strategies

How are you doing? I have a theory about COVID-19. It heightens everything. If you're an anxious person. You're more anxious. If you're worried. You're more worried. It's the season of the conqueror worm. But you got this. Drop a like if you agree.

My days are filled with an array of activities: meticulously planning lessons, diligently grading papers, leisurely lounging at home, savoring meals, engaging in spirited games of pinochle, delving into the latest Mad magazine, and embracing moments of introspection to reconnect with my inner child. What about you? What have you been up to lately?

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Quotation: On the Experience of Falling in Love

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

— Elizabeth Barret Browning, British Poet, and Writer

Frank Jirouch's 1928 bronze sculpture, "Night Passing the Earth to Day" (Detail)

I Love Him. I Love Him Not.

There is a child's game. Perhaps you know it. You take a petaled flower or clover, and you recite an age-old ditty. "I love him," then you pluck a petal. "I love him not." Whichever you said when you pluck the last petal is fate. You love him. Or you don't. 

Elizabeth Barret Browning's "How do I love thee" reminds me of this child's game. While the ditty is one of sealed fate, a simplistic toy to determine love — all agency is lost in the finality of whatever is said at the last petal. And could you cheat and count the petals beforehand — but perhaps that defeats the purpose of reciting the words, anyway. One plucks the petals because one is in a state of indecision. 

Which way to go? Who to love? 

But Barret Browning's poem is of a different quality. It has the cadence of a ditty, but it suggests something more  — call it agency — or call it freedom. In her poem, she "counts the ways," and she is not about allowing fate to decide the outcome. She loves. And she has an infinite number of reasons, of ways, of patterns, and qualities on a display of that love.

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