It was a little past 7:30 A.M. and Herr Samsa lay in the bed wondering why his only son Gregor had not left for work yet.  In the five years of his employment Gregor had never left the house for the office late. Gregor had been on time, vigilant and focused.  After all, he had no other choice than to be.  Therefore, this sudden change in Gregor’s behavior and attitude did not bode well with Mr. Samsa.  As he was used to laying buried in the comfortable bed he sent his wife to assess the situation.  On her return she reported, “Husband, I went to Gregor’s room and he is still in there.  Through the door he said something and should be on his way shortly.”

Mr. Samsa relaxed a bit, but he was still ill at ease.  What if it was starting again?  What if this was the first sign that Gregor was reverting back.  “Oh God forbid!” Samsa thought with a shudder.  Herr Samsa did not want to think about the time during the “Crisis,” which had  brought him to the doorstep of financial and  social ruin.  But his mind had a mind of its own and the thoughts of his beloved son going insane bombarded him like the raindrops falling outside.  He couldn’t stand it any longer and was instantly at his son’s bedroom door.

He knocked on the door and called out to his son.  Gregor did not answer and Mr. Samsa countenance continued to fall.  Again he called out – this time the rising anger was evident in his voice.  Gregor said something through the thick door and Mr. Samsa wanted to believe that everything was alright.  For his own sanity’s sake he lumbered to the dining area and returned to his breakfast, but he could not eat.

Mr. Samsa lay one hand on his rotund belly and cursed under his breath.  It was only yesterday that he was a very proud and esteemed businessman.  That was until the “Crisis.”  He had almost lost everything five years ago.  He had loved Gregor back then, but he could not help but to blame Gregor and despise him – just as he had done every day for the past five years.  It was all Gregor’s fault and if Mr. Samsa’s gut feeling was correct then they were headed into another Crisis and this one would be the death of them all.  He had to think of the family.  Now he had to protect them.

“Grete!” Mr. Samsa screamed out to his young daughter, who was still dawdling by Gregor’s door.  “Is Gregor not feeling well?  Will we have to send for the doctor?”

Grete quickly appeared in the dining area, looking very perplexed, and said, “Papa, he is not speaking.  He seems not himself.”  The words scared her.

Not being himself was the last thing that Mr. Samsa needed to hear.  The last time that Gregor was not himself it was Mr. Samsa who suffered the financial destruction and loss of reputation.  It was Mr. Samsa who was transformed from being a wealthy man to a common one indebted to those who, in former times, he would not care to even sneeze at.  Prior to the Crisis, Mr. Samsa had been at the peak of health and aspirations.  He was a big man with big ideas, but his son, that son, changed all of that.  Mr. Samsa thought about the money he paid to the doctors for Gregor; all of that money.  They needed more and more money because that man-child was the worst case that they had seen.

The brain doctor, Antov Krackenstein, wanted the most money, but he held out the greatest hope.  Yes, he could bring Gregor back.  But only once.  The next time was doom.  As Gregor was recovering the doctor advised Mr. Samsa, “The only way that your son will remain sane is if his whole mind is distracted with a single activity – that is work.  He can not think too much or be idle.  Keep his mind occupied Herr Samsa!  For the idle mind is the devil’s playground.  And for God’s sake, do not let him ever see her or touch that accursed thing again! Good day.”

“Father!  The office manager is here to see Gregor,” was enough to rouse Mr. Samsa out of his reverie.

“Make haste!  For the end is near,” he screamed out as he rushed back to Gregor’s door.

Mr. Samsa spoke easily to his son through the door although his expectation of normality had waned to nothing.  Gregor did not answer.  The office manager spoke to Mr. Samsa, but he did not respond.

Ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

Thirty seconds.

An eternity.

The image of Gregor laying in a puddle of his own blood and excrement filled Mr. Samsa’s mind.  He could never forget how Gregor had flung his bodily waste at him like some monkey in a zoo.  Mr. Samsa felt the deep wounds on his arms from Gregor tearing at his flesh.  Mr. Samsa remembered.

The office manager was also at the door trying to coax Gregor out.  After a while even he got frustrated.  But when he brought up the very idea of a possible theft Mr. Samsa knew that the deal was sealed and that somehow Gregor had seen her and touched the accursed thing.

One minute.

Two minutes.

The door opened up.

There was Gregor, hunched over like a filthy street dog, baring his teeth.  No clothes, just covered in dirt.  The office manager retreated while Gregor screeched and hissed.  Fear overtook everyone because Gregor was no more.

     I was always under the impression that a neurotic person was someone who was schizophrenic or mentally unbalanced.  It wasn’t until recently that I discovered that neuroticism is the degree to which we as humans worry about things that affect our lives.  New Yorkers have got to set the bar very high and In some ways I can run with the best of them.  I am very concerned with what time I get up in the morning; how much I pray, what days I shave, how many showers I take during the day; THE CLOTHES I WEAR; what time I leave my apartment; running to catch the next train; studying on the train; running to get the next train; making it to the gym with enough time to do my workout plan for that day; taking another shower; running to school to make it on time; being prepared in class; making sure that my grades don’t slip; how my stocks are performing; how my business is going; how my relationship is going; how my finances are going; how my life is going.  And all of that is before I even touch a morsel of food.  So I guess that I can be a little neurotic.

Basho was the antithesis of the neurotic New Yorker.  In the “Narrow Road of the Interior,” he exudes a zen-like calm and peace that is focused on exploration and “to be a vagrant cloud scudding before the wind.”  This little cloud, having no will of it’s own, but willing to be careened by the forces of nature.  As he left for his journey he dispatched with all of his worldly possessions and even the going away gifts from his friends, which he carried in his pack was the biggest burden to him.  He “resolved to hope for the best and be merely content to return alive.”

Throughout his travel log he chronicles the places that he sees, the natural beauty and wonder of the landscape and the families that he encounters.  The trip is not fraught with danger or calamity, but with peace – as Basho recounts it.  His is a journey of tranquility.

At times I do wonder if I could ever be as tranquil and “zen-like” as Basho.  Could I ever really not concern myself with my life and those things that I think are important?  Could I ever not worry about my grades or my finances?  Could I take in ease not having the prospect of employment?  Could I?  Well, that is just another thing that I have to worry about.

I am horrified by Tolstoy’s description of the life of Ivan Ilyich as having been “most simple and most ordinary and therefore most terrrible.”  I can not get that out of my head because it is so counter-intuitive.  By today’s standard, Ivan Ilyich’s life would not be considered ordinary by most people.  He grew up in a household where all of his needs were met and his father enjoyed appointments, not merely employment.  Ivan went to a good school, married according to the social norms, received job appointments, had friends, enjoyed the trappings of wealth  and lived well.  How much more could a person ask for?

That is what I am asking myself and what I struggle with whenever I think about my future and what I plan to do with my life each and every day.  I have been conditioned to think that the only thing that matters is what you accomplish with your life with respect to others around you.  (The person coming from the projects, previously receiving welfare and now has a city job making $35,000 is deemed to be far more successful by his peers than a person who is making $500,000 a year in the presence of multimillionaires.)  And in many ways college perpetuates that mindset.  I mean why else would I stay up for days on end, getting little or no sleep in order to do the best possible at all times, if I wasn’t looking for the big payoff in the end?  But does it make my life any better?  Tolstoy gives an emphatic No!

So, what is the meaning of Life?  What should we long for?  Some people desire to seek after love and happiness which stems from that.  I would not recommend that.  Ivan’s wife sought out love and she really believed that she found it in him.  But how quickly that changed.  She is not a unique person because that is the case with many people.  They believe that the emotional “feeling” of love will be enough to sustain them.  They soon learn that that is not the truth.  (If that was a viable position then the divorce rate in this country would not be over 50%.)  Life is more than the feeling of the emotion of love.

As a Christian my highest calling is to glorify God and to enjoy Him always.  The happiest times that I have ever had have been when I serve God with all of my heart, mind and strength.  And these were under some very averse situations. So, just as Ivan Ilyich found his joy in God, my joy has to first come from serving God and then everything else will fall into place: the education, the marriage, the business and the money.  All things have to fall into line under the highest calling.

Welcome to my blog, How Great Works of Literature Makes Me a Better Person.  My intent is to share with the world how literature is helping me to become a better person.  One of the qualities of literature is the ability for the reader to identify with the author and for the author to identify with the reader.  There is a symbiotic relationship between the two and should be mutually beneficial.  While we can in no way benefit the actual person of Keats or Moliere, we can still shape their legacy and impact on the world.  You can learn a little bit about me if you hit the “About Me” button on the tabs toolbar.

One day my girlfriend asked me why one of my old girlfriends was calling me so much.  I explained that she just needed my help with a few things.  She then admonished me not to continue with too much talking because the former girlfriend might try to “put some stuff in my ear”  (There is a Spanish saying “To ‘urinate’ in someone’s ear”) in order to try to get me back with here.  My girlfriend was absolutely correct.

Prior to that conversation my former girlfriend and a friend of hers came over to my apartment because I hadn’t seen them in years.  We had a nice visit but one thing bothered me.  The Ex commented on how cluttered my apartment is. She wasn’t attacking me, but my girlfriend.  She feels like it is my girlfriend’s, who lives in another state, responsibility to straighten up my apartment.  I corrected her.  But a few days later she told me that she would come over and straighten up my whole apartment and how she would go about the make-over.  I didn’t entertain her offer because she was trying to extol herself at the expense of my girlfriend.  At first she made it seem like it was purely for my own good but then eventually she became forward in her advances.  Clearly her technique was to worm her way into my apartment and life and then into my heart.  I severed communication because I am no Orgon!

One of the reasons why Moliere wrote “Tartuffe” was because he wanted o expose the religious hypocrites who had worked their way into the lives of influential people and were greatly deceiving these officials.  Tartuffe was one of those hypocrites who had a detrimental affect on Orgon – the father and head of the household.  Tartuffe caused the division of the husband and wife relationship, the father / child relationship and master / servant relationship.

Due to Tartuffe’s influence Orgon proudly boasted that he was above caring about anyone else.  This was detrimental to all of his relationships.  Not only was he an inept husband, but a father without a clue.  And the deception was totally for the benefit of Tartuffe.  It wasn’t until he witnessed the deception firsthand did he change his attitude and view towards Tartuffe.

While I might not be an Orgon, I still know that it is important to be on guard against any person who might try to influence me for their own gains, to the detriment of those who really love and have proven themselves to me.  So, beware of those people who are trying to put stuff in your ear because they just might be trying to weasel their way into your home and Tartuffe you – to your destruction.