Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Vocabulary Narrative

Supplication

I learned that word with my students. We were reading Antigone. I played her in college. Anouilh’s version, not Sophocles. Technically, it means to ask or beg for something earnestly or humbly. But I remember it as a prayer. This divine calling out to God. Reading Antigone with my students was my way of praying. I played that part in college, right after my sister died. I had just buried her. I played a part about fighting for a proper burial. “You are all like dogs that lick everything they smell.” I loved that line. The anger, rage, despair all rolled into one. “Happiness. Paint me the picture of your happy Antigone.” My professor taught me about being present even though I wasn’t always present in his class. He put us on stage to witness, even when we had no lines. I brought up a song to learn while I was up there. He never said anything, but ten years later, I finally get what he was trying to teach me. So often, we are multi-tasking, thinking about what we have to do, as opposed to just being in the room listening, sitting with our breath and the breath of others. Ten years later, I am finally understanding what happiness is.

Biopsy

That word makes you stop. Because they do a biopsy to look closer for cancer. They cut a little piece of the suspected skin and send it off to the lab. I know this because I’ve had it done. Maybe you have too. Or know someone who has. Because biopsy is like the yellow light that you hope stays yellow long enough for you to make it through the light before it turns red and the cop stops and give you the cancer ticket. Or maybe you run that yellow light, but aren’t quite as lucky to have a cop stop you to give you the ticket because another car hits you broadside and you die instantly. But sometimes, the biopsy comes back, and you make it through the yellow light safely and count your blessings. An examination of tissue removed from a living body to discover the presence, cause of extent of a disease. Coined in French from the Greek “bios” meaning life plus “opsis” meaning sight. To see your life flash before your sight. The flashing yellow light.

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