The Host and Companionship

“Ultimately the bond of all companionship, whether in marriage or in friendship, is conversation...” ~ Oscar Wilde

Suffice it to say that I'm not a big science fiction fan. Like many women, I find the idea of aliens, space ships, rockets, futuristic weapons, sea monsters, Big Foot, and the entire area surrounding Roswell, New Mexico to be a colossal annoyance. I have never watched the SciFi Channel on cable television. I had no idea that there were entire series that had garnered passionate followings. I was terribly disappointed to see how many recent films either had aliens on Earth as their 'surprise twist' at the end, or as the movie's entire premise. I was ready to walk out of the much anticipated final Indiana Jones movie, when the otherworldly zinger happened. I have never even seen E.T.

However, because I liked Stephanie Meyer's "Twilight" series so much, I was willing to give her newest novel, "The Host" a try. I was reluctant, to say the least. Yet, I'd heard Ms. Meyer's interviewed about how this novel came to be. As a mother myself, I could relate to her story. She was driving a long (and dull) distance with her boys in the back of the car. They had finally settled down and were watching a DVD on the integrated system. I remembered, when my children were younger, wanting to canonize the person who developed this. It prevented me from spending 10 hours in the car, dealing with arguments like "Mom! She's over the LINE!" or hearing "I'm not touching you!". Ms. Meyers then related her profound boredom at the monotony of the road ahead and wishing she had someone (over the age of 9) to talk to. The thought came to her: "What if there were two people living in my head?".

Therein lies the premise for "The Host". Once I got passed the slightly creepy and wee bit confusing first two chapters, I realized that this was an excellent story about two women, with different thoughts, different ideas and different priorities who come to love one another in a deep and true friendship. Some of their goals become common to one another. Others remain individual and intact. Rather than give a synopsis of the story, I'd prefer to reflect on how much I gleaned from a novel that I hadn't believed I'd enjoy. The relationship between Wanda (the alien who inhabits the host's body) and Melanie (the host herself) is both complicated and fascinatingly simple. They come to admire one another's strengths of character and conviction. They come to realize that each personality possesses gifts that the other lacks. They realize that together, they create a powerful and well balanced person. They give each other advice, understanding and unconditional love.

How often in life have each one of us wished we'd had someone to talk to? There are times when just speaking words loses meaning and intent. What would it be like to have a best friend who is so completely integrated into our thoughts, that she would understand our animus, our signification and our very heart's desires, without having to vocalize these wishes...and lose part of the "meat" in the telling? Many children have imaginary friends. Some children go so far as to want to set a place at the table for "Mrs. Bloomsbury" or make sure she has her own stuffed animal to sleep with. These children (myself included, though it's only in reminders from my mother that I know this happened) "see" their chimerical whimsies, but only in relation to these sidekicks existing outside of their own bodies. The difference in the idea brought up in "The Host" is: "What if your companion resided within?". There are those who would say this is the path that leads to madness or delusion...and they wouldn't be far off the truth. In centuries past, people who 'heard voices' were burned at the stake for being possessed by demons! And yet, it's fascinating to contemplate having another sounding board, another voice or another perspective to bounce ideas off, to keep us company or to have that deep sense of intimacy with. After all, aren't we all looking to be understood, admired and loved for who we are?

While science fiction is still not my 'genre', I did learn a great deal from "The Host". I learned that it's always a good practice to step outside our comfort zones, and to experience a different perspective. It also sent my imagination off, wondering what my internal duality would be like, if she existed. I can only hope she has more coordination and is better at balancing the checkbook.

Losing my voice

From Webster's Dictionary: Definition of voice: an expressed wish, choice, opinion or verbal utterance.

Have you ever had one of those mornings in which you wake up, just knowing that Murphy's law will prevail? In addition to a series of unfortunate mishaps, complications and life frustrations, I discovered that I had lost my voice completely, thanks to a rougher than average allergy season. The sounds I can make sound vaguely like squirrels quarreling in a nearby tree. Either that or my squeaks resemble a person repeatedly stepping on a mouse. My rodent verbal qualities have led my dogs to turn their heads sideways to try to understand my commands. This experience has made me wish I had taught the dogs hand signals. "Sit" and "stay" simply do not carry the same power when my Donald Duck voice is giving the order. Above all, losing my voice just hurts. My throat is very painful, and I have been living on hot tea, Chicken Soup and Chloroseptic spray. Unfortunately, none of these remedies have made it easier for me to communicate with my family and friends, as well as my pets. I have been gesturing passionately (and only understood about half the time) and using a big, yellow legal pad to write out my comments.


The sad fact is: I'm a talker. I can speak until I'm almost asleep, and as my husband can attest, I can even continue to talk once my eyes are closed if I'm really motivated on a subject. Being able to express myself has never been an issue for me. Learning to know when to keep quiet has been a much more difficult skill for me to master. Tact, listening and mindfulness are all part of my journey in becoming a true 'adult'. My father used to tease me that I couldn't eat without talking. We had experiments night after night in which I had to try to learn to keep peacefully quiet. I failed miserably.


That being said, not being able to speak has proven to be quiet different than having a self-regulated time of not communicating. I have had to learn what it is truly important. Since none of us know Sign Language in my family, I've had to save my painful squeaks for truly urgent comments, and other than that, I've had to decide if what I want to say is really worth writing down....or playing Charades...to get my message across. I've discovered that most of my chit-chat is ridiculously meaningless, and if I can hold on to my thought a little longer, I may not need to use half a sheet of lined paper to express every sentiment that enters my train of thought. While I can't say that this has been a "Road to Emmaus" experience, I am learning that most of what I say doesn't need to be said. It's a sad and harsh realization, but it's certainly been eye opening for me.


Not having a voice has also given me more time to contemplate communication. Since I can't communicate directly, losing my voice has proven an invaluable metaphor for what I know happens to millions of women around the world every day. Many women do not have the same kinds of freedoms that we have here in the western world. They are silenced and beaten into submission. Their voices, even ones that can speak articulately and from a well educated perspective, aren't valued. The poorer women simply face death on a daily basis by not having a voice that is heard at all. Their thoughts, their feelings, their very lives are considered valueless. One of my favorite authors, Khaled Hosseini, was greatly celebrated for his book, "The Kite Runner", which was later made into an extraordinary, award winning movie. But, his second book, "The Thousand Splendid Sons" relates the plight of interrelated women, and the struggles they share. They unite to find a common voice, but being heard doesn't come without grave consequences. This vitally relevant fictional story, of life under Taliban rule in Afghanistan, taught me to never lose sight of the valuable gift in having a voice that can be heard...even for things that are inconsequential. A woman not having a voice is a dreadful thing for society. The U.N. has issued study after study about nations living in poverty. The studies find that, where women are educated and heard, society prospers. The converse is also true.


Fairy tales, like Hans Christian Anderson's "The Little Mermaid, relate stories about women freely giving up their "voice". In Anderson's tale, Arielle literally gives away her power of speech to try to capture 'the handsome prince'. Yet, fairy tales are rife with women releasing their inner power, their gifts and their strengths in order to gain favor with the men whose attention they hope to capture. I don't believe that fairy tales are bad for children. They do help stimulate creative thought and imagination writing. However, I also believe it's vitally important that we equip our children, boys and girls, with the understanding of respecting the voices of all...men and women, rich and poor, from all corners of the globe. We must instruct them and encourage them to never allow their own voices to be given away to someone else. We must all remember that our opinions, our nature, our beliefs and our ideals are what make each of us unique and valued.

While I have not enjoyed my experience with the loss of my physical voice, I do appreciate the opportunity it has given me to be silent and reflect upon the voices of others. I'm only sorry that it has taken my own yammering to cease to 'hear' them.

Lost in Translation

"Follow the yellow brick road..." L. Frank Baum, "The Wizard of Oz".

One of the features my car came equipped with is a built in GPS system. Using global positioning, the computer can tell me where I am, and give me clear directions to my destination. I have found this tool to be incredibly helpful, over the past two years, during one cross country drive, and many trips around New England and Canada for my teenagers' athletic and school events. No more fussing with maps. No more arguing with my husband as to what is a highway, and what is, in fact, a river. Because our honeymoon was spent in the Austrian Alps, driving from one beautiful vista to another, maps began to be a bone of contention in my marriage, as I seem to lack the basic intellectual brain chip that would enable me to plan and plot a reasonable (and possible) course. Hence, having a GPS, after 20 years of marriage, seemed like a gift from Heaven....the computer could tell us which turns to make, what landmarks we would pass and even help us to find the most feasible rest stops. Unfortunately, this past weekend, our directions were lost in translation.


Our daughter was going to spend the week at a friend's house in southern Massachusetts. The highway route and directions from the interstate to her classmate's home were clear and easy to follow. We gratefully listened to "Please exit to follow I-495 South" and "Turn right at the next intersection". We were very pleased when the GPS informed us that "We had arrived at our destination". Unfortunately, our return home was not as simple. For reasons we have yet to comprehend, the GPS computer didn't backtrack the way we came. Instead, we found ourselves being ordered to drive around random neighborhoods, head away from the highway and traverse towns completely out of our way. We turned onto tiny rural roads, and drove through main streets of unfamiliar villages. In short, the GPS lost us. It insisted we take roads that would lead us away from our destination or from any main roads. It demanded we make U-Turns if we tried to head in the general area we knew needed to be. It became difficult and argumentative when we chose not to follow its ridiculous directions. I may be anthropomorphising the GPS, but I think it was angry at us, and vented.


Eventually, my husband and I, having lived in various parts of New England for most of our lives, simply ignored the GPS. We looked at the map it supplied, but refused to listen to one more directed turn into a residential development. After a great deal of confusion, heated debate on which way to proceed, we found a familiar road number eventually, one that we knew would take us to the highway. We did learn our lesson. GPS computers are simply tools. They are not, as I had once believed, magical devices created just to make my life easier. Sometimes the information they dispense is incorrect, but because they are not thinking, creative humans, they just regurgitate what information they posses. Eventually, we found our way, we came to more familiar territory and we arrived home safe and sound, and not too much later than we'd planned to be.

This experience helped me to think deeply about communication, and about how much we depend upon information given to us, rather than information we ferret out for ourselves. While services like the GPS, Internet search engines and the media can give us information, how accurate can we trust it to be? How meaningful to our specific need is this recommendation or guidance? While news and reports are valuable tools, we must not stop simply taking each piece we receive as the absolute truth of any situation, whether it is driving directions or seemingly factual accounts of note. It is critical that we learn to process the knowledge given to us and create our own sense of accuracy and believability. Just as my husband and I were positive the GPS was shepherding us further and further away from our path, we must be clear about the other information we receive in our lives, and in which direction it leads us. We must become literate in our decision making, and not be led astray, just because we are told a path to take. We must learn to trust our intuition, at times, and readjust our direction if we head off course, both figuratively and literally.


In Yoga, one of the asanas that can aid in helping us discern our direction is Gate Pose. In Gate, we are opening our bodies, in two ways: the first is the outward expression of reaching upwards and opening our hearts. The inward work that Gate post can help us accomplish is to allow our hearts to be open to both the outward flow from within us, as well as the inward flow from the universe into our lives. Gate pose is one of the asanas that allows us to find our direction. We can stretch our bodies and work into the incredible sense of openness, and we can work our minds and hearts to achieve that same kind of flexibility. We can move out of the pose and readjust by making small changes to help us to gain the maximum benefit. Just as in the rest of our lives, Gate pose can aid us in finding areas in which we are heading correctly, as well as those spots we need to rethink.


On life's journey, take the time to reassess your situation. Don't blindly listen to directions if they seem wrong or out of balance. Process the information you're given and use it in the way that best suits your goal. Above all, don't be afraid to simply stop and turn around. It's much better to reverse direction than it is to wind up in a river.

"What we have here is a failure to communicate..."

"What we've got here is a failure to communicate" is one of the most famous lines uttered in any movie, in any decade. It happens to come from "Cool Hand Luke", starring a young Paul Newman, in one of my favorite films. It's said, dripping with malice, by a vicious police officer to Paul Newman's character of Luke, a man determined not to be beaten down by anyone...not the prison staff, not the fellow inmates, and certainly not the local police, who overreact in sending him to prison in the first place. While this blog piece is actually not a review of the review and insight into the movie, I do suggest that readers rent this Academy Award winning film. My intent is to focus on the ideas, thoughts and semantics regarding communication.

Communication, more specifically, the art of conversation, has changed radically since the advent of the Internet and mobile phones. One of the positive side, we are able to connect with friends all over the world with ease. I have friends in Australia and Europe with whom I converse regularly, thanks to the Internet. When one of my friends lived in Japan, we were able to be a support network for her, while she was abroad. Through mediums like Facebook, I've been able to reconnect with friends from high school, college, and our own days abroad, right from home. I've had an easier time maintaining friendships with friends who once lived close by, and have moved away. I am able to talk to my mother and daughter every day, both of whom live far from me. And, yet, these useful, and helpful tools can, too often, fill the void we inherently need in our quest to 'be heard' and to 'hear others'.

I recently read that 78% of Americans use the Internet as their primary tool for conversations. I found this statistic very sad and unsettling. I certainly use and appreciate the internet's many gifts, but isn't there something truly wonderful about sitting down with a friend, in person, and enjoying a cup of coffee, a glass of wine or a mug of tea? Isn't there something missing when we can't look at that friend's expressions, hear her laugh or see his smile? When we email, AIM chat or post on Facebook, we can't see that friend's twinkle, and really know her meaning. We can't place a hand on her shoulder, give her a real hug and say "I'm here for you. I understand.". We're unable to truly sense his meaning and intent. So much of our communication, as human beings, is non-verbal. Our body language is unreadable over the Internet. We can't see someone who is clearly hiding a heartbreak, or bursting with joy. We can only attempt to extrapolate meanings from their written words.

Recently, I met my friend, Molly, for coffee. Despite the fact that Molly and I live 5 minutes apart, we both seem to run the same ragged hockey mother lifestyle. For us, the Internet has been our way of still touching base and cheering each other on, whether from home, or various hotel rooms at hockey venues. However, meeting Molly for coffee made me realize how much I miss having face to face communication more often. Online, our conversations are to the point, even if we do get a little silly. However, sitting at the coffee house, we talked in a circular fashion, with multiple strands of thought weaving around us to create a spiderweb of thoughts and ideas and sharings. I realized how utterly human it is for our most meaningful conversations not to progress from Point A to Point Z. But, rather, to meander and redirect and to walk down both the path of seriousness and joviality at the same moment. It's healthy, and it's completely necessary, to allow our conversations to drift at times...to take on lives of their own and to create new trains of thought based on these offshoots.

While I am not advocating the end of the Internet by any means, and while I don't wish to limit any one's thoughts on using this valuable resource to stay in touch, I do want to raise awareness about the need for 'real' conversation. Making eye contact, giving a warm hug and just seeing your friends face to face can truly give a lift, when you need one, and can make a difference to that friend, if she's hurting. My advice is not to allow the human element of our communications to be removed, simply because of the ease of the internet's communication tools.

Plus, it's just plain fun to laugh so loudly that people stare. Try it. It's good for the soul.

The way we communicate with others and with ourselves ultimately determines the quality of our lives. ~ Anthony Robbins