Coffee in the Afternoon

Something has always bothered me as a reader/writer/future-English-teacher, and it is the question of meaning. In an effort to get students to think about the significance of a work ("Why did the author feel the need to write about this? How does it affect you? What makes you connect to it?"), teachers often project the idea that there is some nugget of meaning hidden within the work: that once the students dig deeply enough and sweep away enough dirt, they will see some obvious inherent thing. Maybe a moral or an idea. Who knows.

Something about this notion made me uncomfortable, in a way that reminded me much of an experience I had this summer, so bear with me here while I go on a bit of a tangent. I had always hated banks. Not the idea or purpose, but waiting in line in them. But waiting in line anywhere else has never bothered me, so I knew it couldn't be a lack of patience from which my problems stemmed. However, I had never put much thought into it and had, rather, just thought, "I don't like lines at banks. End of story." That was until one sunny day in July when, while conversing with a co-worker on our break, I heard myself say, "Are you making coffee right now?! It's 3 in the afternoon!" And just like that, it struck me: the idea of drinking coffee in the afternoon somewhat disgusts me, and therefore smelling in the afternoon is off-putting. And my bank always has a self-serve coffee station by where I wait in line- no matter the time of day. So, like that, I could tell I did not like the idea of unearthing a hidden meaning, but today in class I realized just exactly why.

In general, when a person writes about something they are trying to share something (an idea, memory, experience, etc.) that they are deeply involved in (whether they are passionate about it, struck by it, haunted by it or whatever it may be) with others. Now just think for a minute; when was the last time that you excitedly told a story to a friend and buried the "meaning" under all these layers in your story? If you are the average person, your answer is probably "never." When we communicate with others, the tendency is to make the conversation as clear and concise and poignant as possible, which brings me to my main point: there is no hidden meaning. Meaning resides in the collective combination of every single word, punctuation mark, and paragraph break that make up a piece.

This hit me today in class when we discussed Dante's and Thompson's 4 levels of interpretation by diagramming them in the shape of a clock. The result was proximity between level 1 (the literal) and level 4 (the anagogical/mystical). At this point Dr. Sexson gave an anecdote about Robert Frost wherein Frost, after reading one of his poems, was asked what the meaning was. In reply, Frost repeated the poem back to the questioner - saying, "The poem is the meaning!"

It seems obvious to me now. I look back on the writing I have done, the pieces I have had published, and the pieces I take the most pride in. What do my favorites have in common? They are concise in expression. The language is exact and the story/poem/essay does exactly what I wanted it to do in as clear of a way as possible. Is this not the goal of every writer? To illustrate something in as potent a way as possible? Why would any writer approach a piece and think, "Hmm.. I should only sort of demonstrate my point and then fill the rest of this area with other random words"?

It seems obvious to me now what alluded me for so long. And now I can only hope to take every word into account - every image given within a piece - so that I can see the whole picture for all that it really is.