Take your time during the day

I have been bothered into writing a new post (darin), so here it is. In truth, I really should be posting more so the guilt was just what I needed. I'm in the middle of working on a couple of things - chapter 4 of the f**kin dissertation, O'Neil's Long Day's Journey into Night, Incarnation and preaching. This is all in addition to my church work and my endless quest to unpack and clean and organize the house. No wonder I haven't posted in a while.

Right now (Friday, 10-16, 11:45am) I am taking a short break from Chapter four. I have finally started to write chapter four which is good, but it takes a lot of mental energy of which I have little.

So for this short break I thought I would reflect on A Long Day's Journey into Night. Harold Bloom claims that this is the greatest American play written in the 20th century, and I'm not one to argue with Harold Bloom so he must be right. If he said it on NPR than it would be right beyond all certainty, but I'll take what I can get. It is a good play, kinda dark, but good for many reasons. One of the aspects of the play that I enjoy is the tempo of the speech. When the characters are speaking truth and honesty, no matter how difficult to acknowledge, they tend to speak in a slow, cautious way. For example when Jamie (the older son) is talking to his father about his younger brother Edmund's illness he says:

JamieSlowly.
He thinks it's consumption, doesn't he, Papa?

Tyrone
Reluctantly.
He Said it might be.

There is a caution to this speech as it points to the horror of reality that they all may face. Yet when truth is avoided there is a lightness and a quickness to the speech. For example when Mary (the mother) is speaking to Jamie and Tyrone, trying to break the tension between he and his father:

Mary
To Jamie, forcing a smile.
Did I actually hear you suggesting work on the front hedge, Jamie? Wonders will never cease! You must want pocket money badly.

Jamie
Kiddingly.
When don't I?
He winks at her, with a derisive glance at his father.
I expect a salary of at least one large iron man at the end of the week - to carouse on!

Now I said this was a short break, so I need to make my point (do I have a point?). There is something about being slow and careful and honest. So often we rush and cover and ignore the wounds that are very real. O'Neil is capturing this human trait in his play, we do it every day. Yet when we take time with our speech and our thought we tend to open up the wounds of our lives in an honest way. Granted, this is more painful, but it is real. The long journey into night (or at least one view of it) is a long journey of denial as the hurts and pains continue to thrive, grow and overshadow and hope. The fog of suffering rolls in as we try to avoid it. The night of our wounds blankets any false and fast speech we can offer.

Isn't that a nice and happy ending?