Anna Karenina and Adultery

I’m going to talk about a very touchy subject. I just want to warn you. You might get uncomfortable.

I watched the latest film adaptation of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. I admit I never read the book so I didn't know quite what to expect. However, as I was watching, I was reminded of one of Tolstoy’s other works, The Kreutzer Sonata, which I had recently listened to. Both dealt with infidelity. And both were very tragic. Tolstoy definitely had an opinion on the matter.

I think most people have a definite opinion on the matter. It may differ slightly depending on culture and religion. But here in America, in this society, adultery is frowned upon.  It is a sin to the religious and grounds for divorce to the law. And adulterers are spoken of with disdain. Of course, people love to gossip about adulterers, but that’s a different discussion.

As I watched Anna Karenina, I thought about my own feelings about adultery. And, as with most matters, I began to wonder if the subject was not as black and white as we treat it. I myself am not a fan of cheating. I have seen the pain and turmoil it can cause. I consider it to be selfish and unfair to the person one has promised to love and honor. You chose to get married. I say that if you are unhappy, you need to do one or all of three things:

1.       Talk to your spouse.

2.       Talk to a counselor.

3.       Separate/Divorce

I know people say, “but, it isn't that easy.” I just can’t see how lying and sneaking around is easier. Yes, you have to work at keeping a marriage alive and healthy. You have to let go of your pride and ego sometimes. You have to open up even when you are confused and afraid.

But, I don’t have the right to judge anyone. Nor am I an expert in the matter. And the only people who truly understand what is going on in a relationship are the two people in that relationship. It’s easy to stand outside and tell people what to do. It’s more difficult to understand how they feel, to walk in their shoes, to see the situation from their point of view. And that’s what I was thinking as I watched the film.

Why do people cheat? There are a myriad of reasons to be sure. But why do seemingly good people betray their spouses? I know there are those who do it just because they can. There are selfish, slimy people in the world who don’t care about anyone or anything. But what about the others?

Anna Karenina was married to an honorable man. However, their marriage seemed to lack warmth, and passion. The word that came to my mind was “orderly.” Then into her life appears a very desirable man and the connection between them is instant. Although she at first tries to fight what she feels, she eventually gives in. The situation for Anna is certainly difficult. In her time and place, women were dependent upon their husbands. Although men cheated, they weren't treated with the malice that cheating women were. (Anna discovers that while she is treated as a pariah, her lover continues to kiss the hands of aristocratic ladies.) And divorce was akin to a crime. On top of all that was the fact that Anna could lose her son should she leave her husband. What could she do?

In The Kruetzer Sonata, the main character’s wife befriends a man with musical talent. This becomes their connection. Music is very powerful, as is desire. From the way the main character relates his story, from his words and mannerisms, I could guess why his wife was disloyal.  He seemed an irritable, angry, dark man. In the end, he kills his wife in a fit of rage. He loses his children, but not his freedom as the court decided he was merely defending his honor. (The gender hypocrisy in both these stories drives me mad!)

For the characters of these stories, as with many people of past times and distant lands, marriage may have not been a matter of love, but a matter of finance, status, or politics. In some way, perhaps that still occurs today. Maybe society puts so much pressure on people to get married, that people rush into it, or do it for all the wrong reasons. And maybe society puts too much pressure on people to stay together when they shouldn't  People can and do change. Same with feelings. The heart is a mysterious thing. It doesn't always do what you want it to do or what it should. It doesn't follow whatever rules we try to set. Could it be a matter of wrong person at the right time or right person at the wrong time? Do people fall out of love as easily as they fall in love? Could some love just be temporary?

As time goes by, relationships can suffer under the pressures of everyday life. Careers and children often take precedence. The person that was once your best friend and lover becomes a roommate and business partner. Men want to feel young and virile again. Women want to feel desired and appreciated. And if their spouses take them for granted or ignore their sexual and emotional needs, they sometimes wander. Again, this goes back to ego and selfishness. But I can see how people rationalize it. The brain is a mysterious thing, too.

But what if it is more than just an emotional thing? We are one of the few creatures of this planet who select a mate for life. Most other animals mate with many, driven by instinct. Of course, we are not like other animals, and we have brains that supposedly allow us to think and not just act. But what if that animal instinct has not been totally subdued and we are not as evolved as we think? What if those instincts sometimes fight their way past our civil facades? When you really look at it, desire seems very much a raw impulse. Scientifically speaking, are we meant to be with just one person?

Of course, we have become a more liberal society and there are people who have “open relationships.” I won’t judge them either. People are different. And just because I wouldn't do it doesn't give me the right to say it’s wrong. As long as there is complete honesty and both partners have an understanding.

I hope I didn't upset anyone. Again, I am not advocating adultery. My brain just got to rolling after watching that movie and I think maybe we should talk about such matters instead of ignoring them or sweeping them under the rug or whispering about it in dark corners.

I am lucky that I am in love with my husband and our relationship means so much to both of us. We understand that infidelity would destroy this beautiful thing we have. But that’s us.

I hope that all of you have deep, meaningful relationships and you are happy. But if you are not, I hope that you can figure things out. I hope that if/when you marry or if you are married, that your spouse is your best friend and you can reach out to them when your heart is hurting. I hope you don’t experience a disconnection that drives you away from the person you should be running to in your time of need. If you have cheated or are cheating, take a moment to reflect and dig deep, and figure out what the real problem/solution is. 

Love is such a complicated thing. Humans are complicated things. My brain is whirling.

Dreams

I had an interesting dream a few nights ago. I was standing in a kitchen with an old woman who was a fortune teller. She cracked an egg, looked at the yolk, and then made some surprised and worried sounds. I looked at the yolk and actually saw pictures in it, but they disappeared before I could really figure out what the message was. The old woman then gave me a warning as what she read was not good. It was something about “not losing him”. At first I thought she was referring to my son. But then it seemed she was talking about my husband, and perhaps he was cheating on me.

Strange, right?

I think I have told you before that I have extremely weird and vivid dreams. I see brilliant colors. I can taste and hear and smell. I can fly a lot of the time, too. There are all kinds of nonsense scenarios and some interesting characters, supernatural creatures, plot twists, etc. And they are long, too. Surprisingly, I am often aware that I am dreaming.

That being said, I believe that despite all the wackiness, dreams can help you get in touch with your innermost thoughts and feelings. So, I was curious as to what this old lady fortune teller dream meant. I did a little research. What I came up with is this:

I may have some psychic abilities but I am unsure of what my future holds and I have some creative energy that I need to harness and control and perhaps I have some pent up emotions and need spiritual warmth and nourishment.

Or something like that.

I have long felt that I do have some psychic ability. Or perhaps just a strong intuition. My dreams have told me about future events before. I often feel like I know people before I do, or know what will happen before it does. I can read people well, too. I knew I would be with my husband the first time I saw him and I knew I would have a boy from the time I found out I was pregnant. I had a dream about attending a funeral the night before receiving a call about a death. I once saw a random person in an airport in a distant city, but felt like I knew them. And then I met that person some months later. It may all be nothing. I am hypersensitive, so it could be that I pay attention to the subtle clues the universe gives. Or it could all just be a series of great coincidences.

I often wonder if perhaps we all have some psychic ability, that somewhere deep inside lies a power that we can harness if we tried. We only use a small percentage of our brains, so that wouldn't be surprising. We also don’t listen well to our own hearts and minds and souls. Maybe if we took the time to detach from all the noise, technology, and outer chaos, and looked within, we wouldn't be so uncertain about things.

I admit to feelings of uncertainty regarding my future. I know what I want to do, but I’m not there yet. I have creative energy, and I want to release it. I want to write, and I want to design. Maybe this aching desire is causing pent up emotions. Maybe creating beauty and sharing it with the world can give my soul some nourishment. Maybe I need to stop dreaming about it and go after it with all I have. Maybe I need to connect with a deeper, greater source of wisdom. Maybe that source is within me.

On the other hand, what if all the theoretical physicists are right and there are numerous dimensions? And what if we are offered a peek into these other realities via our dreams? Sometimes I wonder. People in my waking life act differently in my dreams. (Like my very loyal, honest, kind, loving husband who in my dream was possibly cheating on me, which may be attributed to inner fears). There are occasions where I’m even different in my dreams. Different as in not me, but some other woman, or man. Other times I feel as though I’m watching a movie about other people’s lives.

Or maybe dreams offer glimpses into past lives. If you believe in that kind of thing. Past lives could explain my feelings of knowing people I've never met before or places I've never been. Could that be what déjà vu is all about?

Or maybe we sometimes connect with the other world. The one where God (whoever, whatever you believe God to be), resides. Maybe we can receive messages, wisdom, and guidance from God in our dreams.

Or maybe life is a dream and dreams are reality? Who really knows?

Now that we've gotten thoroughly lost, perhaps you would like me to stop my wandering brain on wheels. I’ll leave you here.

But I’ll keep dreaming.

I recently finished three different books which took place in different times and different parts of the world. However, they all had something in common that bothered me and got me thinking. Perhaps you are familiar with these novels:

Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See

In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez

In all three of these novels, women suffered greatly. I can just hear all the sarcastic “but don’t women suffer in all great novels?” But, it’s more than just the fact that they suffer. They suffer at the hands of men and societies dominated by men with questionable ideas of right and wrong.

Now guys, don’t get all up in arms about that last sentence. I swear I don’t think all men are bad. I think that men, as well as women, for so long have also been unconscious victims of societal pressures. Men are expected to act a certain way and do certain things and believe certain things. And often times, not adhering to the rules of other men would get them into trouble or hurt or killed or draw unwanted attention to the women in their lives.

I am not a feminazi. I am married and I love to serve my husband and dote on my son. I love to cook and bake and keep a clean house. My husband helps with all the housework and I once had to fight my own thoughts of “but that’s my job.” Some might attribute that to society’s definition of how men and women should behave. But I rather enjoy pleasing the males in my home. And I also think that true independence and equality for women means a woman can choose to become a mother and housewife or a single CEO without anyone thinking less of her.  I choose to be a mother, wife, writer, dreamer, and aspiring interior designer. I choose to work and attend school. Admittedly, this means the house isn’t always spotless or the dinners always hot and ready. But I have a husband who loves, helps, and supports me, and for that I am thankful.

I also don’t have a dirt poor family with too many mouths to feed. I didn’t have to work hard as a teenager to support my family. I don’t have bound feet or in-laws that work me like a slave. My marriage wasn’t arranged and my husband doesn’t beat me. He loves and accepts me for all that I am. I don’t have to worry about him being hauled away by soldiers or the government taking our land and home (well….another subject). I haven’t lost any children or witnessed so much death. My mother didn’t treat me as just a worthless daughter or tell me that “only through pain would I have beauty.” I don’t have to worry about speaking out against the government or spies sitting under my window. I live a good life.

A lot of the women in these novels did not have a good life. They had some happiness. But in the end, there was so much tragedy.

Because this is just a lowly blog, I can’t give these three novels their just due. What I really wanted to get at is that I hope all you women and girls out there know your own worth and beauty. I hope you know your life is yours and you should choose as you see fit. You do not belong to anyone. You are not property or a toy or a “worthless branch.” You are not a slave. You have the right to speak up, speak out, and be heard. You deserve love, respect, and recognition. And I hope that as women, we can reach out to and support each other.

I hope that one day women will not suffer at the hands of brutal men, moral hypocrisy, or tyrannical societies and governments.

You are all ladies, flowers, and Mariposas.

Here is a poem I want to share with you. It is sad, I know. But I hope we can all be treasure hunters and find those jewels and let them shine in all their glory.

Pirate

You never just open a door-

you pull on it with brute strength

until it cries, gives in, and lets you through.

And it watches with sad eyes

as you discover the secret it tried to protect

from your plundering hands.

Then you yank on the door again-

it howls like the wind over stormy seas

as you slam it shut to hide the secret,

so no one can get their greedy fingers

on what is yours, only yours.

And the secret is a treasure chest

filled with long forgotten jewels

covered in dust and sorrow.

You will never take the jewels

out of that dark box-

they would shine too brightly

and catch someone’s wandering eye.

You tell the chest, with its diamonds

formed from ages of oppressive heat

and overwhelming pressure,

that it is filled with useless junk

no one else would ever want.

And the chest secretly dreams of being discovered

by a treasure hunter with a map and a heart.

A bruised, bloody X marks the spot.

I wish that I wouldn't have to keep thinking about and writing about all the pain that humans cause each other. Maybe you are tired of hearing about it. But we know that ignoring it doesn't heal us. So, here I am again, sharing my thoughts with you.

Once more, I cried at the end of a long, sad news day. Again, I found myself asking why. Why do people hurt others this way? Why do innocent people lose life and limb because someone has a personal agenda? Why? Why? Why? And I would venture to guess that you too were asking why. Perhaps you too cried. Or maybe you became angry. Maybe you wanted to hit something.

I don’t know why these men did what they did. Maybe they felt this nation had wronged them or their people or their religion in some way and they wanted to avenge that wrong. I can’t begin to understand their motives. But I also know that somehow, someway, understanding why they did what they did can give us insight into the darkness that plagues the human race. It’s easy to judge each other. It’s more difficult to look beyond, to look deeper, to plunge into the mysterious recesses of the human condition.

I began to write this poem a year or so ago. I put it away and came back to it recently. Now, it seems to resonate even more.

Before you read it, please understand that with poetry, as with all writing, the subject is not always clear-cut, black and white. There are grey areas and personal experience can color it differently. In this poem, I am speaking to something larger than just this one incident. There is more than meets the eye, so to speak.

Also understand that I do believe in justice. I believe people who commit acts of brutality must be held accountable for their actions. And I believe in the right to defend one’s family and home. You can extrapolate to the national level if you wish. However, I hope that we can approach justice rationally, with open minds and open hearts, not clouded by anger, hate, or prejudice. I hope that someday all nations, all people, can separate the acts of an angry, misguided individual from their family, their culture, their religion, their ethnicity and their country. Because hate and anger, like fire, can burn out of control, and leave us all in ashes.

Each side in war thinks they are in the right. And violence begets violence. And we can all get caught in a never-ending loop of revenge. When does it end? 

An infinite sea of pointing fingers,

so many nameless faces to blame.

As hearts die and tempers flare,

we hunt for those who cause the pain.

An eye for an eye is the rule.

A life for a life what we demand.

Retribution we claim our right-

casting stones with dirty hands.

Vengeance is our tyrant king,

no compassion in his boiling blood.

Hording resentment like precious jewels-

his anger guides our destructive flood

Waves of fury will drown them all,

no mercy will be shown.

There are no innocents to be spared-

forgiveness forgotten or never known.

Our self-righteousness consumes us,

a fire raging out of control.

War is always our answer,

punishment always our goal.

The battles will rage on and on,

inhumanity taking its toll.

We’ll die along with our enemies-

hatred poisoning our souls.

When empathy and understanding

have finally withered away-

when we lose our humanity,

this world will darken and decay.

We will have our vengeance,

And they will have theirs too.

We’ll be buried side by side-

And blinded justice will have her due.

I watched the movie “Perks of Being a Wallflower,” and it stirred up emotions in me I wasn't expecting. And since it did, I thought I would share my thoughts and feelings with you.

The movie, based on a novel by Stephen Chbosky, centers on a teenage boy named Charlie. He is shy, very introverted, and extremely intelligent. Unfortunately, these characteristics generally make for a tough freshman year of high school. And for Charlie, this is compounded by his ongoing struggle with depression, especially after the suicide of his best friend, and some heartbreaking family issues.

I recommend that you watch the movie, so I don’t want to tell you too much. Suffice to say that Charlie faces some of the same trials and tribulations that many of us do as teens. There are bullies. There are awkward moments. There are drugs and alcohol. There are issues of young love and sexuality.  The teenage years can be such a difficult and challenging time, especially for people like Charlie, who feel more comfortable with their head in a book than in a crowded lunch room.

I have told you before that I had some difficulty as a teenager. I always felt different, weird. I never felt as though I belonged. And there were some very mean people, mostly girls. I struggled with bouts of depression and anxiety. I guess that’s why the movie touched me as it did. It caused me to remember the sometimes dark days of high school.

I think many of us look back at our teenage years with some sadness. It’s a confusing time, when our hormones are rapidly changing and randomly firing. When we are searching for who we are, where we belong, and where we are going. Our bodies and opinions are constantly changing. We know just enough to get us into trouble, though we think we know everything. We are testing our independence and consequently, the patience of everyone around us.

Sometimes, people cannot face these challenges. Or maybe they don’t want to. Maybe they would rather watch it all go by, wallflowers, staying out of the blinding lights of society. Or maybe they are pushed against the wall by others. Maybe they are bullied by those who are just as confused as they are, but who deal with it by lashing out at others. Maybe home isn't necessarily a haven from the cruel world. Or they are dealing with great loss. Whatever the reason may be, some people find themselves falling into a hole, swallowed up by loneliness. In this dark hole, they can’t see all they have ahead of them.

It saddens me to think of those who experienced only the lows of growing up. Those who found it better to leave the world than to face it. Sadly, it happens all too often. You read stories in the paper about girls who had awful rumors spread about them, called sluts and whores on the Internet. Boys who were shamed for their sexuality and physically abused. These are children. And they are taunted by other children to the point they put a gun to their heads or overdose on medication. It’s awful to think about, but we have to.

I think about it when I watch nature shows sometimes. I see some of the violent things that animals do, whether as adolescents, or as groups, and I wonder if we are as evolved as we think. I wonder if we are not all that different than these animals. Perhaps not.

I sometimes worry what my son will experience when he enters that phase in his life. Will his coming-of-age story have a happy ending? Or will he suffer through some of the same heartbreak Charlie experienced.

There really is no black and white answer. I know my son will experience some of the same struggles as me, as Charlie. That is a part of life. And without the struggles, there can be no appreciation of joy. I hope that he will be strong enough to face all the challenges, to find- no- to make his place in the world. I also hope that like Charlie and I, my son will find true best friends. Friends who love him, support him, accept him, and appreciate him. For Charlie and I, that was like a ray of light breaking through endless clouds of grey.

I hope that my husband and I can help guide my son. I hope that we can see the signs if he does begin to slide into that black hole. I hope we can make him understand that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and that life has just as many ups as downs. I hope we can show him his potential, and all the life has to offer.

And I hope he has good teachers. And good books, too. Yes, a lot of good books.

**I hope we can all guide our children. Not only to make it through the tough times, but to help others make it through the tough times. I hope we can teach them how to love and respect their peers. And I hope we can all see and react to the signs of depression and loneliness. They may lose their innocence, but we should not lose our innocents.**

The other day, someone asked if I had posted any poetry on my blog. I responded that I hadn't. It made sense they asked such a question. I had said that I have been writing poetry since I was 11 years old. Granted, my earlier poetry wasn't anything to write home about. Even now, I feel that I have a long way to go before I can ever rightfully call myself a 'poet'. Perhaps that is why I have not shared that part of me with you. I will also admit that I have been afraid to put my poetry out there on the world wide interweb. It's very personal, and what if someone tries to pawn it off as their own? But does it matter in the end? I haven't won any awards or received any recognition, so maybe it wouldn't be worth stealing. If it was however, I guess all that matters is that I give some small gift to the world, to kindred souls. Maybe I can touch one or two of you out there.

So, here it is. I wrote this poem for my son and I share it with all of you.

Knight

I look upon him as he sleeps-

little body curled up tight,

safe within the fortress of blankets

built to shelter him from the cold.

The nightlight stands guard-

a torch to keep away the darkness

and the nightmares.

I know in the morning

I will find the fortress destroyed-

its walls kicked down,

heaped on the floor next to

fallen toy soldiers.

A tiny foot will be dangling

over the edge of a tower,

one blanket desperately clinging

to him for dear life.

Like that one blanket,

I want to hold on;

I want to keep him safe from the cold-

the kind that freezes bodies,

and the kind that freezes souls.

I want to be his shield, protect him

from those who would aim

their arrows of hate and pain

at his tender heart.

I want to be his torch-

keep away the monsters of the dark,

the living nightmares.

I want to be the safe haven

he runs to when life frightens him.

I want him to stay warm and safe

in his fortress of blankets,

while I keep guard.

But I know he can’t stay forever.

He will feel confined, will want freedom.

And he will kick off my blankets of protection.

He may get cold and he may get hurt,

but he will become strong,

learn to protect himself and

fight his own battles.

And someday, he will build a fortress

for his own.

To err is human, to forgive divine?

I saw the movie Five Minutes of Heaven. Its title is very deceiving. It doesn't involve a lover’s tryst or anything you might suspect. Rather, it’s about guilt and forgiveness. It’s not the type of movie you watch for entertainment, but the type that makes you think about things you don’t normally wish to be faced with on a big screen in vivid color. I thought I would give it a shot because it won an award and it stars Liam Neeson, an actor I have much respect for. Set in Northern Ireland, Five Minutes focuses on two men, one a murderer, the other, the brother of the man he murdered. Both have been prisoners of guilt for a long time when the media arranges a meeting between the two.

It reminded me of the book I told you about, The Shack. I thought of the character in that book who had to find a way to not only forgive the man who kidnapped and murdered his daughter, but also himself, and the God he blamed.

In both, hearts are broken, lives shattered, questions asked, people forever changed, and the human condition explored.

As the famous saying attributed to Gandhi goes “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” I truly believe that if everyone sought revenge and payback, there would be no one, nothing left in this world. But, I would be a liar if I said that I never relished the thought of someone ‘getting what they deserved.’ And I do believe in Karma. I think that we all sometimes hope that what goes around truly does come around.

And what if my own child had been taken from me? What if my own sibling had been shot because of a petty difference in beliefs? What then? Would I be able to forgive? Would I be able to keep hate from seeping into my every cell? I honestly don’t know. I would like to think that I could, but I don’t know.

It’s easy to say we should forgive. It’s harder to actually do it.

At the same time, we all seek forgiveness. And I think, what if I caused someone immense pain? Maybe I didn't mean to, but that doesn't lessen the agony. I don’t think I would ever kill someone, but what if I did on accident? What if the sun was in my eyes and I didn't see the person crossing the street? What then? I know that I would carry that with me for the rest of my life. I don’t know that I could forgive myself, let alone hope for forgiveness from the loved ones of that person.

I know, not the kind of stuff anyone wants to think about. But sometimes you have to. You have to face the ugly, darker side of life, of human nature. I have always believed in the goodness of people. But time has showed me that most, if not all of us, are capable of awful things.

I guess in the end, it’s how we deal with these things that defines us. Do we allow the pain and anger and questioning to consume us, to tear us apart inside? Or do we find a way to rise above, to fill our hearts and souls with courage and love?

I would not presume to tell you what you should feel or how you should deal with your own situations. We are all different. I share this with you only as a fellow human being with thoughts and questions of my own. I hope that we can all learn to forgive each other and ourselves. But in my own mind, I wonder if we all deserve forgiveness. I’d like to think we do. Then I read about the vicious, violent things that humans do to each other, and I have my doubts. It’s a battle. To feel and know the love that I believe in, and to feel and know the heartache of human failings.

How do you feel? What would you do?