The Giver: memories & love
On recommendation from my 12-year-old daughter, I recently read Lois Lowry's
The Giver.
If you've not read the book and want to....don't let me spoil the amazing narrative. Stop reading this blog, devour the
The Giver
and come back for a visit.
In
The Give
r, Lowry has constructed a perfect world, where everything has order and there is a prescribed plan for everything. While you read, you begin to slowly weigh the benefits and deficits of this imaginary society. As the story unfolds, I startled with the realization that in The Giver's world individuals don't hold memories and without memories they don't know love and they can not perceive color.
After I'd finished the book, my daughter and I sat at an outside for a summertime lunch and talked about
The Giver
. "I was amazed that she linked memories and love. I can't stop thinking about this connection and wondering myself if we have love without the memories" I began. "Love? Even more basic, mom. I was shocked that there was no COLOR. Can you imagine? No color, no love, no memories. How were they living?" my daughter replied. Color, or depth, like love, is as fundamental to humanity as breathing. One needs food. One needs shelter. Just as basic, is the need we have for
& meaning.
In
The Giver
, the main characters have such a deep desire to bring love,community, & connection to this perfect society that they devise and carry out daring and risky plan.
In our own lives, we also devise daring and risky plans to keep memories and color alive. Loving is brave. It takes courage. Sometimes it feels perilous. Telling the truth, even when it's all good stuff (You are simply amazing! In all my life, I never met anyone as beautiful as you.) takes a commitment to living life outloud, being graceful, embracing boldness. Perceiving depth and participating in the giving and receiving of love also brings the possibility for pain. This fear of disappointment, rejection, failure (whatever this means) can hold us back, keep us quiet.
During the days I read
The Giver
, my sisters surprised me with a birthday bouquet of memories. It was a proof (looking for proofs of love...a gem from
) of love that I savored over several days opening the envelopes one at a time, often laughing, sometimes crying, a few times blushing. These memories span decades and continents, include plenty of shenanigans and trips since it has been more than 20 years since we all lived in the same state. The memories and this love is weaved into the basic components that make up who I am. Truly, what a gift to unfold this love, the memories, over and over.
The bouquet of memories and
The Giver
have me contemplating what I do to make memories, share memories, and remember memories ("
" as my son named them). I'm behind, but I scrapbook. I write cards and letters. I love to take a photo on the phone and send a text "thinking of you." I'm looking for more ways.....what do you do?