Our unique ability to stimulate experiences we have yet to undergo is both a blessing and a curse. When imagining our deepest fantasies, the barriers of constraints are absent and the mind is free to run wild and set soar.
One can imagine the sensations of success before reaching it, the feelings of love with someone you have yet to meet, or simply just a fond memory we wish to relive over and over again. You can hear the sounds of places you have only read about in books, taste the flavors of grandma’s cooking long past her cherished days, and even feel the happiness of a time in our lives that has since dwindled away.
This exclusive ability seems like a power fit for a super hero, yet all with a wandering mind can take part. While we revel in the marvel of this capability, the converse side acts as a beast of burden. One does not always have the ability to keep grave thoughts out and once entered, they seem to haunt and torture us like a regret we cannot take back. While reading Gwendolyn Brook’s “Uncle Seagram,” I felt face to face with the monster of ill thought. The poem did not need to include horrid or vivid detail to express its point. It’s simplistic and straightforward tone gives it a voice from like that of the child narrating, and leaves the mind to be thrown into a far deeper, dreadful place. Unfortunately, as vexing as they may be, these ideas deserve to be heard and felt. Because, though thankfully only thoughts to some, to others they serve as reality; a reality that can be shameful to admit or even acknowledge. The line “I am not even a girl” felt like a wind being knocked out of me when I read it. My assumption of the innocent narrator being a girl is again a reminder of why it is so important to recognize scenarios that may be foreign to our own. Cruel events are safe to no one; man, women, boy, or girl. They deserve to be empathized, for the sake of all those who have lived these truths and triumphed beyond them. (Jade Moreno/CoS Student)