In the novel, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston writes, "When God had made The Man, he made him out of stuff that sung all the time and glittered all over. Some angels got jealous and chopped him into millions of pieces, but still he glittered and hummed. So they beat him down to nothing but sparks but each little spark had a shine and a song. So they covered each one over with mud. And the lonesomeness in the sparks make them hunt for one another."
Many, many years ago, I taught Their Eyes Were Watching God over and over again to my juniors. I adored it. I frolicked through Janie's story, the way a child runs and plays through a field of flowers. I'd roll around in Hurston's beautiful way with words and then lay in them and let the sunshine of her phrases soak through my pores and enter my soul. Hurston got it. Hurston understood me and I, her, and to this day, Janie's story is still my epitome of love and grace and the strength of a woman.
It has been over ten years since I have read this book but after consecutive years of teaching it and probably going through it about fifteen times (English teachers, can I get an Amen?!), her story is still bright and vibrant and lately has been on the forefront of my mind.
I have always loved Hurston's explanation of creation. God makes man. Man is beautiful and sparkly and singing all over the place. Angels get jealous (and yes, I think this part is funny) and pounds man's sparkly bits down to pieces and then covers them up in mud. And, so here man is, just blindly bumping around the world, trying to find someone else who sees their spark through all this crud. And then they fall in love. The End.
My fresh-faced, bubbly, new teacher, and newly in-love 25 year old self, thought this was the most beautiful description ever. I thought that it was just about finding that spark in someone else. And, Ha! Lucky me! Joe had seen my spark and I saw his and we were good! Happy and in love and Hurston totally called it. The. End.
My nearly 38 year old self wonders if there is not more to that whole mud bit. 37 years have brought on a lot of mud. One failed marriage, too much booze, too much food, too much shopping, tragedy, grief, trials and tribulations, fear, anger, anxiety, depression. A really strong marriage but even those are really hard sometimes and can cause a little mud. And then, tack on the fears, anxieties, and stressors that come with motherhood.
There is a lot of mud on this lil spark.
The thing is, is that the spark doesn't fade. It doesn't stop singing. At least, mine hasn't. In fact, lately, she has been singing louder than ever. Lately, the need to break free of all of that yuck has not been a quiet hum but a loud demand. She is demanding to be free. Free from the weight that has built up for so many years. And this operation is not something that may happen in the future or can be pushed to the side for a better day when the skies are clearer. The demand to let go of all of this heaviness and crap is urgent because this lil spark needs to shine.
I think a lot of people confuse this for a mid life crisis. I think a lot of people deal with it by adding more stuff to the equation (isn't that what Americans do? Add more! That'll help!). More chocolate. More wine. More stuff. Bigger houses. Nicer cars. New relationships. Out with the old and in with the new! Just. Keep. Adding. More.
But... I am wondering if maybe the answer isn't to add more. Maybe that uncomfortable feeling, that ringing inside, is letting you (me) know that it's time to sit with it. And slowly chip away at it. Let each piece go, bit by bit, until we are raw and vulnerable and fresh faced and shiny...
And then what happens next? I'm not sure but I think, then and only then, we are able to sing and be free....
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