The Gift of Metaphor
- 03
- 30
- 10
In twenty-eight minutes, there will be a soft knock at the door. And I will pop up, tighten the sash of my white robe, tiptoe across carpet and answer it. A kind man in a uniform will smile at me and ask me how I am. I will keep it simple and tell him that I am fine. Even though on this morning I am better than fine. This man will walk past me, silver tray in hand, and place it down. I will thank him and walk him out. And once the door swings gently behind him, I will pour my first cup of coffee. I will sip it by the window while my sister sleeps. I will peer out. At the coy morning sun. The shimmying palm trees. The brave waves slapping soft sand.
I am not home. I am away. And at this moment, away means Palm Beach, Florida. I am here with Mom, Sister C and Sister I for a girls’ trip. At this very moment, I sit cross-legged on my side of the king bed I’m sharing with C for one more night. The room is silent, but for the whisper of a ceiling fan and the erratic tapping of my computer keys.
I sit here next to my little sister and best friend, a small blue book resting between us. A book C gave me on Sunday morning. We arrived at Newark Airport, a bit sad to have left our babies, but excited for a few days of sleep and sun. When we saw that our plane was delayed, we decided to get breakfast to kill some time. We found a little table and perused plastic menus. We attempted to order breakfast burritos and celebratory bloody marys, but our waiter said no. (Breakfast wasn’t being served and there was a pesky state law that forbade him from ponying up booze before noon on a Sunday.) So, we settled for salads and water.
While we ate, C pulled something from her bag. “I saw this and thought of you,” she said, handing me a small blue book.
I looked at it and smiled big. I Never Metaphor I Didn’t Like by Dr. Mardy Grothe. Immediately, I started flipping through. The smiles kept coming. “C, I am obsessed with metaphors. I love a good metaphor.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I got it for you.”
And so. We sat there, thumbing through the small book together, reading bits of truth.
Words are the physicians of a mind diseased. - Aeschylus
Light tomorrow with today. - Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Happiness is as a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but which if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you. - Hawthorne
Several minutes into our metaphor tete-a-tete, we came up for air and giggled, realizing how funny we must have looked. Two blonde sisters, scarfing airport salads, cooing over quotations.
The airport was packed with families. C and I chuckled at the fact that we left our own babies just to hang out with other people’s little creatures. We found our own plot of carpet at our gate and I pored through my new book, smiling. Remembering. Realizing.
Remembering my first college philosophy paper. It was called “The Umbrella of Skepticism.” It was a terrible thing, but I still like the title.
Remembering my start five years ago. Five years ago, when I started writing, I bought a slew of books on the craft of writing and read them with great care. I noticed that everyone felt strongly about metaphor. That good metaphor was the heart of good writing. And many authors seemed to suggest that the art of metaphor was something enigmatic that could not be readily taught – or learned. This concerned me because I didn’t know much about metaphors – how to craft them, when they were appropriate.
Undeterred, I started playing around with words. Comparing things and ideas. Flirting with metaphors. The very first draft of LIFE AFTER YES contained a bunch of incredibly clumsy metaphors that were ultimately banished from my manuscript. It’s possible that a few remain. Part of me hopes so.
Thousands of years ago, Aristotle said:
The greatest thing by far is to be a master of metaphor. This alone cannot be imparted by another; it is the mark of genius, for to make good metaphors implies an eye for resemblance.
Today. I sit here on fluffy hotel sheets, a rookie mistress of metaphor, reading these words bequeathed to all of us by a brilliant man from a book bequeathed to me by a brilliant and thoughtful sister who slumbers beside me. I sit here nodding.
Nodding in agreement that there is a certain magic inherent in sharp metaphors. Nodding in awareness of the power of escape from life. Of getting away. By plane. Or by prose.
Today, on this tiny Tuesday morning in the grand scheme of things, I sit here next to my sister and with myself and I write. And realize.
That some things can’t be taught. How to mingle with metaphors. How to love. How to be loved. How to be true. How to find truth.
That most everything can be learned. If we want something enough, and are willing to work and wrestle and stumble and fail, we can get closer to that something.
I sit here, miles from home, miles from Aristotle, miles from genius, closer than ever to Me, smiling. Clutching a little blue book. Clutching awareness. Clutching gratitude.
Because a good metaphor, like a good sister, like a good family, like a savored escape, is a gift. Exquisitely wrapped. Endlessly enjoyed.
Now I will sign off and wait for that knock. And for your words.
______________________________
- Do you agree that mastery of metaphor is at the core of compelling writing?
- Do you have a very favorite metaphor?
- Do you agree in “Away Sweet Away,” that we all need to escape our everyday from time to time (via travel or the written word) in order to nurture self and appreciate our lives?
- Have you been given a gift recently that has been particularly, and surprisingly, meaningful?
- Do you believe in gifts? That some people are born with talents that others cannot learn?
Sigh ….
Just, yes. Yes. And thank you.
I don’t have words exquisite enough to comment, but everything you say rings the bells deep in my heart.
xo
I swore I would never come back to the area I grew up in. I am less than 20 miles from the home I grew up in. I think of leaving occasionally. I hear the call of travel, of other lifestyles that would fit me slightly better, but as a parent, this is where I want to finish raising my last child. So here I stay.
Home is, after all, where the heart is.
I have not mastered the art of metaphor, but I oh-so-enjoy stumbling onto to them. And my new favorite is the Browning quote you had here in your post, “Light tomorrow with today.” So simple. So beautiful. And rings full of truth. Thank you for introducing me to my new motto!
Yes, happiness is a butterfly. I’ve loved that metaphor for many years now.
You’re so right…the best writers — whether witty or profound or the kind that write those emails that might as well be published — have mastered metaphors. And I love that feeling when I read a great one and think, “how did they think of that. How can I do the same?” Metaphoring (not a word) isn’t something I’ve mastered, and I agree that it’s something that cant necessarily be taught in its entirety. You either think in metaphors or don’t, I believe. But that doesn’t mean that those of use who are much more literal shouldn’t keep trying, stumbling, and putting ones out that probably make no sense. Eventually one will.
“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all” – Emily Dickinson
And yes, I whole-heartedly agree that travel nurtures us. (At lease for me.) It broadens our worldview. It challenges our perceived notions. It reminds us of why we love home. For me it is essential.
I don’t have a particular memory for literary metaphors but I use them frequently in my conversations as a means of humor, and in my work. For example, in describing my recent adversary, I likened him as the Rasputin of the defense (with his client being the czarina). I also use metaphors in legal arguments regularly though likely not as adeptly as a writer of your caliber would. But my audience is different too, my use of the metaphor is about simplifying my points and convincing the judge, the jury, to decide in my favor.
Btw, my favorite children’s clothing store is in Palm Beach, Cloud 10 on Hibiscus. Have fun!
I’m a simile girl myself, though when the creativity is really cooking, those can often be served up as metaphors. Enjoy unwrapping the gift of metaphor (and sisterhood) this week!
It sounds like you have stumbled onto a wonderful little piece of Heaven!
Enjoy.
Beautifully written.
Metahpors help use make everyday connections between the simple and the divine.
The post that you put together early in the morning, before having coffee, would take me half a day to write.
Yes, some people have a gift that others cannot learn – for sure.
I think its true that a picture is worth a thousand words. Metaphor offers that picture in words that allows us to get a thousand words of meaning with just a few.
I’ve noticed that the metaphors we naturally think of or say hold such rich meaning. If we explore them fully, we can learn so much.
Here’s what I mean…if I hear myself saying or thinking…”a fog came over me.” I can ask myself – what brought the fog? What will clear it? What’s the source of sun? Where/what I am in this landscape?
Our minds wisely create the right metaphor to capture the moment, and we can unpack those metaphors, just as we might analyze the symbolism in the dream.
One way of unwrapping the gift of metaphor
Tara
As you may have guessed, I love a good metaphor. (I even find myself occasionally attracted to a not-so-good one; like the nice girl to the bad boy in so many stories, I know he’s just not right for me, but I give him a chance, hoping he can change.)
I hope you have a wonderful trip with your mom and sisters.
Oh how I love a good metaphor! They’re such good little tricks to tell a story, teach a lesson, to really learn and absorb something. I’m adding this book to my wish list!
Aidan, do you read Life in Pencil? Anne had a great post yesterday about metaphors! http://www.lifeinpencil.com You two are on the same wavelength, I think!
funny…I didn’t read your comment before I left mine:) I’m also apparently on YOUR wavelength:)
Wow…I’m on the same wavelength this week. My Monday post was all about metaphor.
http://www.lifeinpencil.com/wp/2010/03/29/pick-your-metaphor/
As I mention in the post, the best metaphors are the ones that hold meaning for the individual. It can be original or cliche, clumsy or graceful…but if it speaks to you, it’s a good one.
I like the idea not everything can be taught but everything can be learned.
And I think I might have to get that book now too!
I’m not sure if this is strictly a metaphor (I should really actually learn these things), but a quote I’ve liked for a while is:
“Maturity consists in regaining the seriousness you had as a child at play.”
I think it was Nietzsche but that seems incongruous…
But it always makes me think, and I guess that’s what a good metaphor does