Children | Claudsy's Blog

Meena Rose On the Air

May 17, 2012 Claudsy 53 comments

Once upon a time I met a young, shy woman named Meena Rose. She’d come onto the Institute of Children’s Literature’s Writer’s Retreat to join our merry band of word workers. It took less than a half dozen visits for her to become a favorite attendee. Her wisdom belied her youth. Her perception and insight startled many of us who’d lived twice as long. And her gentleness melted our hearts.

I give you Meena Rose, who will surprise those who don’t as yet know her and who will bring smiles to those who already love her. Take it away, Meena.

Have you ever slowed down your train of thought?

Meena–A Desert Rose

By: Meena Rose

It just so happened that I was asking myself that very question a few days ago. I was curious what my thoughts would be on a topic if it was delivered in freeze frame segments to my mind. Would I reach the same reaction in the end or would it be different for having slowed down the input and the reaction to it?

There really was only one way to find out. It was to put the idea to the test and have a voice recorder on standby to record my immediate impressions before they faded. Since I normally neither watch nor listen to the news, I decided to select the first full story that I would tune into. Without further ado, here are the results. I will relay the segments and then reconstruct the story at the end.

Newscaster: This is about a little boy

Meena: Ummm, and, so?

Newscaster: Who ran

Meena: Really, where?

Newscaster: Into the street

Meena: Irresponsible parents, silly boy, will they ever learn. <I am feeling very agitated and angry>

Newscaster: In front of oncoming traffic

Meena: This does not bode well. <My gut actually heaved and I felt myself tense up>

Newscaster: Escaping from

Meena: Oh no, I am so sorry little boy. I hope you are safe. I am sorry for judging your parents too. <My arms get goosebumps>

Newscaster: His father who was

Meena: I knew it. You were just like all the little kids who escape the grips of their parents. <I am feeling flushed and angry again>

Newscaster: Chasing him with a knife.

Meena: Oh, no! Dear God, no! I am SO SO sorry kid. You should never have had to deal with that. Your dad is a monster you did not deserve. Please be alright kid, please be alright. .

Newscaster: A bystander

Meena: The story is not over? Please let it end well

Newscaster: Tackled the father

Meena: Yes! Yes! Oh wait, what about the boy? What about the boy? Don’t keep me waiting.

Newscaster: While another bystander

Meena: Please help the boy! Please!

Newscaster: Pulled the boy

Meena: And?!? Hurry up!!

Newscaster: To safety.

Meena: Yes! Yes! Kid, I am glad you are safe! <My knees feel like jello and I am breathing fast>

To be honest, my mind shut down after that. It did not want to hear any more. I had had enough. Promptly, I turned off the TV set and sat in a broody silence. For once, I understood why I can’t bear to hear the news. Being jerked around emotionally from the extreme heights of expectation to deep valleys of despair within the blink of an eye is really not my cup of tea.

However, I am this way when I read fiction as well. My mind will parse, process, analyze and react to the story in segments which I am certain the author had not anticipated. They do not obey the basic rules of punctuation. I am so riveted to the book and the adrenalin rush reading generates that I lose myself in time.

One time I had read for 5 hours straight. The sun had set and I was famished. I went to the bathroom instead and settled in for another 5 hour burst. That book just had to be finished in one day. I literally “wear” the POV character as a cape around my shoulders and walk a chapter in their shoes. It adds to the experiential rewards I receive from reading.

There are times when I have been so angered by a story that I have flung the book clear across the room and relished in hearing the “crack” resulting from the spine hitting the wall. Once, I have cooled down, I would get up and pick the book up, apologize to it and start reading it again as though no violence had transpired.

There are other times when I have been so moved to tears that I cried openly without bothering for a tissue to dab at my eyes. Those books have tear stains upon their pages, marring the perfect finish of the page.

There are other times when I had been so terrified that I would hide the book away from sight and make a pact to only read it during the daylight with many hours separating the reading and sleep. Let us not forget about laughter, joy, peace and love; all equally powerful.

I developed a term for this reaction. I call it Enhanced Experiential Engagement (EEE).

There is something to be said for allowing the train of thought to cruise at its normal pace. I wonder if it mercifully collects large enough nuggets of information to spare us the highs and lows in our unending assessment of the world around us.

Or, do we still go through the highs and lows without dwelling on them for too long, thereby nullifying the effect? Are we better off perceiving the world in an EEE way? Or, are we better off without the notion of EEE?

Here is the story I heard:

“This is about a little boy who ran into the street in front of oncoming traffic, escaping from his father who was chasing him with a knife. A bystander tackled the father while another bystander pulled the boy to safety.”

How did you react? Did you slow down your train of thought? Did you have an EEE? Describe your reactions upon reading the story.

Bio

Meena Rose is a multi-lingual world traveler and transplanted Oregonian; a mother of three children (one boy and two girls) who works as an analyst by day, promoting creativity through writing, storytelling, and role playing wherever she goes.

Catch a glimpse of this lovely lady each day on her website, “Through the Eyes of Meena Rose” at: http://meenarose.wordpress.com/

With each day’s offering, you’ll discover more depth than you might imagine.