I have a constitutional aversion to literalness.
In my teens, I discovered the awesome power and wisdom of
scriptures. I could only do that when I rejected the reading ways of those who interpret them
literally. The same vertical growth happened, for me, as I began to understand
words as allusion to the wordless.
This is why I would not become a lawyer, as my mother
thought I was suited to be, but a writer, as my father encouraged.
The tools of storytellers are metaphors, similes, and language
using words as building blocks to send the listeners minds out of their earthly
sounds and onto places both wider, higher and deeper all at once.
But lest the above high falutin’ speechy paragraph makes me
seem as one who thinkest herself above the rest, let me assure you I have cracks in my
anti-literalism.
I was thinking the other day how literally I act on what should be a metaphor.
I was thinking the other day how literally I act on what should be a metaphor.
“Touch wood”— as in may-it-not-befall-us: I literally
look for anything that could pass for wood and touch it.
“Stop and smell
the roses”— as in take-a-moment-to-appreciate-the-moment: I try to never
take a walk without stopping and smelling an actual rose.
“Piece of cake”—as
in easy: you betcha!
