Digging By Seamus Heaney

Digging

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.

Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade.
Just like his old man.

My grandfather cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner's bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I've no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I'll dig with it.

Seamus Heaney

The Barrel

The barrel of the nineteen leven cold
Never have my lips touched stainless nickel
My mind was made and my cryptic thoughts sold
I pressed so hard blood began to trickle

My mind was in a world all too alone
My heart felt break from this evening of late
Had she known 'twas left here all aching bones
That I was left to my dishearten fate

Isolated I'd been this night of eve
This life had nothing left for me to see
Leave me so my broken heart can grieve
To this world must I been an irksome flea

Abruptly I did have my thought of last
The last thing crossed my mind was that of brass

The Lost Letter of the Prince of Thebes

Oh Creon! "I would call you mad, were you not my father!" (147). I, Haemon, have tried my truest to persuade Creon otherwise. He must have some kind of personal vendetta for that poor man Polynices. Now, my poor fiancé, Antigone, must suffer the unjust consequences, "that ever a woman suffered for an honorable action - burying a bother who was killed in battle, rather than leave him naked for the dogs to maul and carrion birds to peck at. Has she not earned a crown of gold?" (145). Why must someone so valiant suffer the wrath of a thick-skulled man? Ah, yes father, " You'd be an excellent king - on a desert island" (146). He will listen to no one except the pride in his own head. Oh, father haven't you read the stories of the Gods? Disobeying their laws always has consequences! Instead, you refuse proper burial to make an example of a man that was more just in his ways than you! However, I will not stand for this any longer. I tried to appeal to your better nature, but that only proved to fail. Never, "From this hour shall you see me again" (147).
As for you, my sweet Antigone, out of your beautiful resilience, could you not have been more subtle in your actions? Oh, you "poor girl, doomed to the cruelest death" (145). It may be dangerous to say, but I idol you more than the Gods. I have seen your immense compassion in burying the one you loved. I too wish to have this kind of love, so now I must say that I am infatuated with you. How great a woman is she: she who does not listen to the pettiness of the common woman of Thebes, but disobeys the kings and forgoes a task not even the strongest man could carry out. My heart is sick with love and now it pains me to see your stubbornness has locked in a prison of death. I shall wait here no longer for any other woman. I may have an assortment of women beyond any man's wildest dreams, but I must have you my sweet Antigone. For "If she dies, she does not die alone" (146).

With As much Love as Aphrodite will credited me,
                                                  Your Husband in death,
                                                                                Haemon <3

Knockin' On Heaven's Door

Lost in his own dream, he was starring out the window of the moving car. All was quiet in the car except the soft breathing of himself and the driver. The driver had been a long time friend of his since kindergarten. The two friends agreed that the two lane road seemed like it would never end. It was as dark as a Montana sky and a thick layer of fog was rolling in.

The passenger was looking out the window up towards the moon. He would always look outside and see the beauty in life, even in the dark. The driver looked over at him, rolled his eyes, and said in an emphatic tone, "Want to listen to some music?" The passenger was quickly brought back down to earth and studied the look on his friend's face.

The passenger finally broke the awkward silence and asked the driver a question. "Where are we going?" The driver retorted, "We're going to that party stupid!" The passenger ignored the comment and looked back out the window at the stars. Again he turned back to his friend. "No, I mean where are going?" The driver began to laugh and looked back at his confused friend in the passenger seat. "Are you stupid or something?" "No where do you want to go in life?" The passenger spoke up again. "What are we doing and why are we doing it? It's not going to get us anywhere!" This remark hit the driver broad side in the face.

The driver thought for a minute and conjured up something in his mind to say to his friend. He asked, "Man are you feeling okay? Is their something you need to tell me?" There was nothing but silence at this point in their drive and it remained this way for a few more minutes. Then, finally, the passenger began to get choked up. "I'm stuck! I have no idea who I am, I have no idea what I want, and I have no idea why I do the things that I do!" The two sat their for a moment and the driver tried to talk to his friend softly, but it came out strong, "Why are you saying this! You are the only person I know who seems to know exactly what they  want and exactly who they are!" The passenger started yelling, "We did what we said we would never do! We became fake. We took friendship for granted and idolized things that didn't even matter!"

The two still traveling down this endless road both began to wonder when all the contortions of road would end. The passenger began to become worried that they would never make it there. The night seemed darker than before and the fog covered the moon and the faint little stars.

The passenger went back to looking out the window, but there was nothing to look at any longer for everything was covered by the fog. Turning back toward the driver he noticed something bright in the corner of his eye.

The driver asked himself the questions his friend had just previously asked him. He turned on the radio and suddenly saw the light his friend had seen. He looked back and saw that his life was full of hate, lies, fake friends. The only person that had always been there to pick him up was the person in the passenger seat next to him. He began to realize, like his friend, how conceited he had become through false ideas of what was important.

A truck was coming down the opposite side of the road. The truck seemed to be coming at a fast pace. All it took was a fraction of a second for the driver to turn on the radio and take his eyes off the road. The light became brighter than ever. The passenger looked forward and saw the light and in that light he found assurance. In his bones he felt stronger than ever.

However, the light was only but a flash and the road had ended. All fell silent again; in fact more silent than ever. Not even the rustling of the bushes and trees were heard. All noise had died out, but the faint noise of the radio could be heard. The song that was playing was "Knockin' On Heaven's Door" by Bob Dylan.

The Beauty of Rain (Personal Statement Essay)

What most people do not seem to realize about the rain in Seattle is that, in its beauty, there is also a rather large sense of lethargy. The rain appears to you however you imagine it to appear. It could be your ecstasy or your opium. This day, it was unfortunately, my opium. As I wearily walked along the hallways of school, I felt that mentally and physically shutdown. The shiftlessness of the day just seemed to carry on. I felt as if I was on wet gray cloud. For I had just taken a test that day and I was still perspiring. The hallway was dark because the outside was dark.
As I walked down hallway, from one room to the other, I heard a distinct voice that could only be one person. This person was Ryan Gifford. I continued to trudge along in the same rut I had dug from walking along those hallways for thirteen years, but Ryan's distinct voice kept rising higher and higher. Eventually I turned around, half asleep, to see what the commotion was. It was then that I had realized that it was me that he was yelling for. "What's up Big Baby Cadwell?" he yelled even though he was only two feet away from me. Ryan and I had developed a pretty good friendship through baseball the previous year, but I hardly felt like talking to him. "Nothing much Gifford what's goin' on," I replied only halfway using my mind. It was the same meaningless small talk as always. After we had parted ways I kept at a steady yet leisure pace to my next class, but it was only another twenty feet that I had walked when I heard another familiar voice call my name. Yet again I found myself talking to another person. Jackson McKenna-Kier ran up to me and without warning gave me a hug. I was not sure why he had given me a hug, but I did not question it. He and I small talked once again. Jackson and I were good friends through my years of playing football at Seattle Christian.
Once again I started down the hallway, but this time not so mechanically. I had soon found that I was no longer down in the dumps, rather I was sort of refreshed. And I, to my dried and bloodshot eyes, had seen that the sun was breaking up through the clouds. In Seattle this not so uncommon a thing. Almost everyday this happens, but to me it started to mean something. To my own acknowledgment, I had a new pace on the way to class. I went from the ponderous step of an elephant to the almost seemingly transparent glide of a cheetah. Everywhere I had now walked through in the school, more and more people stopped to ask me how my day was going. It was in this moment that I had realized that I had friends from all parts and walks of life.
I had a friend from my math class walk up to me followed by a friend from band that I had once done. However, it did not stop there. I had a friend that I had previously played Xbox with last night walk up to me, then another friend from baseball, once again two of my friends that I used to play with in band. It seemed to continue forever, but. It was in this moment that I had realized that I was not an outcast that did not fit in everywhere, on the contrary, I was a well-rounded person that fit in everywhere! From baseball, football, band, and math, I was everyone's friend! My mind raced back through all of these memories from all of these parts that had made up my life. I thought of the most inspirational award I had won in baseball. I thought of the three years since I was a freshman that I had lettered on varsity for football. I remembered the fun I had playing six different instruments at one time or another. I remembered that I had been in the multiple advanced classes. The memories overwhelmed me to the point where I was almost laughing at how foolish I had been to walk alone in the hallways, pretending like I was the only one in my own little world. How minute this had all seemed, but how could I possibly forget about all of this. I was so ecstatic that it was on my mind until I went to sleep that night.
I look back on it now and see that through my participation in all of these things I had gained friends, some life-long even. Most of friends say that I am a very friendly and charismatic person. They say that I am very inquisitive and know when and how to make someone laugh when they need to. I now use this to walk down the hallways of my school, not sulking in my own isolation, but talking to everyone I can; regardless of people I do and do not know. I wish to make everyone's day brighter like they had mine. In the end I realized, it rains to much in Seattle for me to see the rain as an opium, so I mine as well look for the beauty in it even in the ugliest of weather.

I am Dobamaldore (Affirmation Solicitation)

Affirmation Solicitation

Funny
Loving
Creative
Sensitive
Thoughtful

Eric is a very sweet guy, almost like a big teddy bear! He is so lovable as well as being a lover, which makes people love him. Eric can relate to most people and is a big comforter. Eric is truly a great guy and I am lucky to know him! Eric is a very creative guy and whatever he sets his mind on or has a task to do he will do it as best as he can. If and when he runs into a hard time he finds ways to get out of it and be a stronger person than what he was before. I have gotten to watch him grow and I am excited to see what life has in store for him.

Really, a teddy bear :/
Thanks Mariah! :)

I am Dobamaldore

ENFJ- E(78%) N(12%) F(62%) J(22%)

I am an ENFJ meaning I am extremely extraverted, use my intuition, display my feelings, and use my judgement to the greater good. I think this is very accurate to me and there are a couple details mentioned that replicated my personality exactly. For example, "ENFJs generally believe in their dreams, and see themselves as helpers and enablers, which they usually are." I felt this replicated me because I often times day dream and stay up at night thinking about the future. Also, definitlely see myself as a helper. I, for one, do not like people to get hurt, nor do I like to hurt people. I feel there is not need to when you can just  resolve it by expressing what is on your mind. However, if someone needs a reality check, I will not be afraid to tell them nor will I be afraid to be defensive. This applies especially when someone wrongs me or my friends. Furthermore, there was another quote that resembled my personality. It says, "[ENFJ's] offices may or may not be cluttered, but their conclusions (reached through feelings) about people and motives are drawn much more quickly and are more resilient than those of their NFP counterparts." I find myself able to determine who someone is, internally, through talking to them for only a few minutes. I tend to read people emotions and actions and analyze them. However I do love people, "ENFJs know and appreciate people. Like most NFs, (and Feelers in general), they are apt to neglect themselves and their own needs for the needs of others." In all I agree with everything the ENFJ is and how it applies to me.