Tasting Regency Life: Seven Miles for Seven Days

       This week's Bennet experience comes to you quite by accident. Literally. It wasn't a car accident, but it was the first time I've pulled over to the emergency lane and clunked off the freeway into the arms of the nearest repair shop.
         How is one's car clunking apart at all parallel to the life of a Regency girl? Well, transportation was not such an easy affair as it is today. Obviously, there were still carriages pulled by horses not engines. The train had yet to appear in existence for another couple of decades. So your options were to travel by post, a sort of stagecoach public transportation which would cost you. Or to maintain your own stable of animals and vehicles which required some wealth.
         The Bennet's had one carriage, and my family stables five, practically one for each driver. Except that recently, all five of these horseless carriages have repeatedly been lame or colicking (common horse problems in case you were wondering).
         My family maintains this vast stable of steeds by brokering in older horses which sell cheaply at market. However, in the last few weeks, this practice has sort of caught up, and as a result, we are this week attempting not to drive beyond the seven mile radius in which our insurance will pay for a tow. And this is what brings me once again into a pair of Elizabeth Bennet's slippers.
        In her world, walking was probably the easiest mode of transport. We see Lizzy walking profoundly throughout the text. And I'm postulating that in a pair of her shoes and petticoats one doesn't always walk a great distance further than seven miles. So this week, I'm mostly at home writing or reading or walking--or getting graciously picked up in friends carriages--and beginning to understand a bit about how Regency women might have felt.
       

Mostly Pride

    

       I was recently confronted with the realization that I am perhaps like Elizabeth Bennet in ways I'd probably rather not admit. It seems that pride should be an obvious failing in the way that Darcy is readily judged as haughty and nasty when he first appears on the Merrytown social front. But where Darcy's high opinion proves blatant, Elizabeth has her own arrogance which lies cloaked beneath good judgement and wit.
        Just to clarify, I'm far from claiming good judgement or wit for myself, but the pride part--um, yes. It is there in disguise to me but probably plain to all other eyes. It reminds me of a line from a fictional film about Jane Austen's life where another character accuses the young authoress of secretly considering herself a cut above the company.
         Perhaps it's Lizzy's pride which leads her to maintain a certain standard of expectations. And this in turn leads to a First Impression of Darcy that is negative as he continues to fall beneath her expectation of what "a young man ought to be."
         The good news is that eventually Elizabeth is effectively humbled and realizes her own arrogance in judging Darcy and other characters such as Charlotte Lucas. But had she not allowed herself to change her mind and abandon expectations, she would probably have grown up to be the full-time aunt of Jane and Bingley's brood and we wouldn't have Pride and Prejudice.

"I got your back, babe."

       

           For much of the story, Elizabeth Bennet is a distinguished scholar on all the possible failings and faults of Fitzwilliam Darcy. One can hardly know Lizzy without knowing her professed dislike of Darcy.
           But at some point her scholarship takes a definite turn. In what C.S. Lewis terms "the humiliation of Elizabeth Bennet," she realizes her own inadequacies and misguided impressions and begins to respect and value some of Darcy's qualities which she had not noticed under her list of adjectives for rude and arrogant.
           I've been thinking a bit lately about how easy it is to be critical of one's partner, in any relationship but especially in a marriage or courting context. We're in such a close context and we have such a vested interest in the other half's behavior that little worries or quirky habits become glaring errors in our eyes. See exhibit A: the famous toothpaste tube illustration.
           However, I think it's perhaps imperative to take a page from Elizabeth's book. Once she esteems Darcy and signs up to take his last name, she is his staunch supporter and steady defender of his honor and good name. She informs her father that he is basically the foremost character of her entire acquaintance.
           I think we should stick up for one another, be they spouses, potential spouses, friends, siblings, parents, etc. I would certainly prefer for others to dwell on any positive traits I might have rather than search for flaws and problems that need adjusting. Not only is it honoring to our spouse or friend, but focusing on what is lovely and good in other people helps to feed a truer care and love for that person. So while it's far simpler to critique little and big things, I'm thinking that it is far better, for everyone involved, to cheer the other person on.

Praise the Lord!

             God is so good. And after letting me wander a bit in the abyss of directionlessness (which was perhaps the healthiest thing to do), He's started to swing open preliminary gates.
            Unfortunately, Jane Austen didn't have the internet. So she couldn't blog her way into a publisher.  In 1797, she completed her first draft of First Impressions. Her father attempted to have the novel published. It was not until 1813 that the book finally came to print at Pride and Prejudice. Austen experienced other initial frustrations such as selling Northbanger Abbey only to buy it back several years later after it failed to make it to print. Like many great artists, Austen's acclaim eventually arrived in its time.
             Happily for me, internet now exists. And just this Monday, a little article of mine was picked up by Relevant magazine's website. It's about dating and the common Christian advice to 'guard your heart.' You can check out the link below. 

www.relevantmagazine.com/life/what-guarding-your-heart-actually-means
             It's been kind of fun this week to squeal over having a tiny something published. And more importantly, it has served as encouragement to keep typing away.

Life is Like an Avocado

         My man took me to the county fair last Friday. Fairs are synonymous with freakishly large things. Whether cows, pigs, carrots or balls of string, large is celebrated with blue ribbons. One of my favorite big things we found was giant painting of a large avocado. See picture below in which I attempt to take a bite of canvas. 

           The enormity of this painted fruit reminded me of something I wrote at school two years ago. 

           "God showed me this morning that I often approach life the way I approach avocados. I just naturally assume they are going to be rotten. I hope they will be perfect, but I prepare for the worst. I expect fear. But God is showing me that life is rarely, dare I say never, as bad as I worry it can be, and always way better than I can imagine it to be. It is not a perfect illustration as I have experienced many disappointing avocados and very little trouble in life, and avocados as a fruit are simply a garnish whereas life is the main course I suppose. 

          But it remains that I expect avocados to be brown and rotten and plan to cut out the bad and mush the rest with garlic, salt and pepper to make guacamole just in case. I do that in life too, planning for possible outcomes. But God just wants me to trust him and not waste energy worrying. I think God makes much better guacamole than I do. Though the thick, dark skin prevents me seeing the quality of the fruit underneath, God has created the cool, green stuff to be good, and he sees it while it hides from me." 

         After announcing the revelation that "life is like an avocado" in creative writing class and writing an avocado inspired haiku on the board during our poetry workshop, my Ohioan professor responded, "By saying 'life is like an avocado,' do you mean it is tasteless and bland?" So for those non-California natives who do not fully appreciate the importance of the avocado, I apologize that this illustration may prove mostly wasted.

         But for anyone else who enjoys the green, smooth texture...

         I am not sure whether Jane Austen was ever inspired by food. However, she does include an interesting reflection on potatoes from the mouth of Mr. Collins at the Bennet's dinner table. But as a wannabe writer, I am often struck with an idea after reflecting on edible things like avocados, omelets and pizza, etc. 

        Returning to reflections on the avocado, I found this idea of expecting disappointment relevant once again in this new season of post-graduation. Although it's been strange to live without school or the thought of returning to it, things are beginning to form in a direction that I didn't think feasible a couple of weeks ago. I started my first paid writing project today, and I feel quite at home because it's just like getting a homework assignment. The point being that God remains much more faithful than an avocado. Though the avocados have been mostly quite tasty and creamy too this summer. 

Sisters

       

         I love girls. I love being around them--talking, laughing, crying, hugging and praying. Raised with two boys, I have multiple surrogate women in my life who act as sisters, grandmothers, and extra aunts and mothers.
         I suspect that Austen was a woman's woman, too. Her beloved sister Cassandra was her nearest confidant, and most of her work stems from female perspectives. There is the Bennet clan of Amazons who outnumber poor Mr. Bennet, the tight male-less Dashwood group, the disjointed Elliot women, etc. The women in these tales don't always get along. There are often unreasonable members, such as Lady Catherine or Mrs. Bennet, as well as unhelpful advice from female counselors like Lady Russell or Emma. But despite the occasional persecution amongst their own sex, the women of Austen are a fairly tight bunch as they wrestle with life and with men--the more foreign companions.
       Guys can be awesome friends, as well. In fact, I'm appreciating and valuing them more and more. However, the immediate intimacy available with most women who giggle and scream and just "totally understand" requires more careful navigation.
      

Death Comes to Pemberley

        I filled recent hours on airplanes with a modern murder mystery set in Austen's universe which my aunt recommended a while back. Death Comes to Pemberley by P.D. James focuses on Darcy and Lizzy's happy microcosm at Pemberley with their two sons, neighbors the Bingleys and young sister Georgiana who is getting to know two suitors. But soon tragedy strikes as Captain Denny is murdered in the woods, Whickham becomes a suspect and Lydia becomes hysterical.
       This representation of characters from the classic is a cute and well-done spinoff. James weaves in other Austen stories referring to the Knightleys from Emma as well as connecting the action to Elliot's from Persuasion.