The title of this post and the photo accompanying this post may seem incongruous to you. Did you read the caption under the photo? It will make the connection though it’s not obvious.
This quotation figured prominently in a colleague’s classroom when I was teaching. I looked at it thousands of times throughout my 25 year career. Now, several years later, I see it. For a quarter of a century, I willed it to speak just to me. Several years have passed since I retired and out of nowhere came a whispered message.
Over the years I’ve read a fair amount of Hemingway. Was it a favorite activity? Not so much for me. On the surface he’s an easy read. It’s while reading between the lines that it becomes challenging. If you know even just a little about Hemingway’s life, you know it was difficult. It was a life of extreme adventure, manly pursuits, failed marriages, endless wandering. Add a serious car accident and two plane crashes to his constant inner turmoil. It adds up to 61. The writing was unable to stem the bleeding. Hemingway took his life.
In my mind, the “bleeding” symbolizes cathartic floodgates. In truth, writing is often a release of emotions that flow through my arm and out of the pen. In that regard, it is representative of blood. Emotion becomes tangible through the mechanism of ink — ribbon ink for Hemingway, pen ink for me. I’m a tactile person and feel a sense of release as I propel a pen across a sheet of paper.
Ok, ok, but what about the trees in the picture? There is so much that draws me to that photo. On the surface the towering spires of the trees are impressive. The trees are long-lived and still reach for the sky. They may be seen as a symbol for strength and endurance. It is up to the viewer to choose what they may mean. The mist and reflection of the sun could mean any variety of things. I choose to see light and hope emerging from troubled thinking.
I did not take the photo. I have used it before and given proper credit and was given permission to use it. Do we sense a story behind this? Of course there is. But it isn’t a story for today. “Dreams/So they say/Are for the fools and they let ‘em drift away…”. Many of my dreams have drifted away. Now is my time to realize some of them.
Lyrics credit: “We May Never Pass This Way Again”. Seals and Crofts
Stories Are For Eternity 