To The Be-all And End-all The Bell Invites Me

In this present horror,
Vaulting virtues bear the knife.
The fatal vision: golden opinions
Wash with kind blood.
And hangman’s hands let favour
Be the ingredient of a poison’d chalice.
Am I such an instrument
That false face must hide the daggers of double trust?
Nature seems dead, mine heart is made the fool.
Horrid dreams, wicked in consequence
Plague mine eyes like a ghost.
Fear has let free the door,
To my black and deep desires:
To bear the knife,
To free the murderer in my ribs,
To prick the sides of blessing.
Hide your fires, my seated heart
Let tears in gouts of blood drown.
In this terrible feat, heaven will shut the door,
Trumpet tongued angels will plead,
For mine kinsman summons pity.
A fall of undaunted consequence:
Deep damnation,
Bloody judgement,
Fires of hell.
To the be-all and end-all
The bell invites me.

Words of Meaning

1. Saviour

2. Vagabond

3. Aslan

4. Autumn

5. Silver

6. Turtle

Literary Devices In Three Day Road

Allusion:
1. “Elijah and I see the most amazing thing since our arrival in France. The Virgin Mary, golden and thirty feet tall, rises up from the ruins of a great church” (p 178)

Alliteration:
2. “We slither closer like snakes until we are a stone’s throw away, lie still and listen, watching for a glint of movement” (p 181)

Asyndenton:
3. “The ship does not give to the waves like a canoe but rams them, fights each one, metal groaning”
(p 183)

4. “It covers the wooden walls, the floor , the straw upon the floor” (p 189)

Polysyndenton:
5. “Inside, the air is heavy with the stink of many men squeezed into one place, the smells of vomit and sweat and stale cigarette smoke like a fog so that the air is almost unbreathable” (p 188)

Personification:
6. “A horse lies awkwardly in the little space, neck slit and tongue hanging out as if it is tasting the bloody straw” (p 189)

Onomatopoeia:
7. “The thud and crunch of shells hitting the mud and exploding washes over us” (p 193)

Simile:
8. “Shells filled with poison gas that fall like a plague from heaven” (p 64)

Metaphor:
9. “It threw me into the air so that suddenly I was a bird” (p 10)

Anaphora:
10. “When it feels too long, and maybe it is minutes, maybe it is only seconds, I run toward where I last saw him” (p 148)

Innocence Shattered

Throughout the Joseph Boyden’s novel “Three Day Road”, there is an undeniable sense of innocence shattered; purity shredded to rags. Quotes from this novel will bring to light this theme and the areas in which Xavier, the main character, loses his innocence.
“He hoped that I would get a good souvenir from him. And I do. When I find the sniper, I see in the darkness that his face is a black smear. I had hit him dead on the nose. I go through his pockets” (139).
The first way in which Xavier’s virtue is destroyed is in his regard for human life. When Xavier first enters the war, the devastation and incessant killing makes him sick and miserable, in very obvious ways. His narratives describe the murdering that surrounds him as dreadful, and he vomits when he first sees a man get killed by a sniper’s bullet. But the war wears on Xavier, it instils its values into him. As this quote shows, he has gone from the miserable soldier to the accomplished killer, and has successfully ended the life of one of the finest German snipers. Through the cavalier description of the body, it is evident that Xavier has lost his regard for human life. But beyond just disregard, he now sees the enemy life as a prize to be captured; in his twisted mind, a souvenir is almost his justification for ending his opponent’s life. He has lost an enormous part of the innocence he once possessed, and this quote clearly shows this.
“If I am to take all of [the morphine] at once and in this way end my pain for good, I will have to do it soon. Only a few needlefuls are left, and I do not know what I will do when it’s gone” (177).
The second form of Xavier’s innocence that is ruined is his natural aversion to the drug morphine. When he is new to the war, Xavier sees the subtle yet sometimes devastating effects of morphine, and swears to himself never to take it. Another soldier named Grey Eyes is addicted to the drug, and Xavier’s makes continuous disapproving comments, and even goes so far as to blame Grey Eyes and morphine for the death of fellow soldier Sean Patrick. But as time progresses and Xavier’s friend Elijah describes the effects of the drug, disgust turns into curiosity, and a desire to use the morphine. And once again Xavier’s innocence is shattered, as we see him return from the war a morphine addict; the drug defining his life as can be seen in the quote.
“I listen and try to fight the anger that comes to me when Elijah does these stupid things. It isn’t fair” (99).
Although much more subtle than the others, the last area in which the war damages Xavier is equally devastating; his slowly waning friendship with Elijah. When Xavier and Elijah first enter the war, they are as close as brothers, and the only hope Xavier has in the bleak World War I landscape is his friendship with Elijah. But even from the beginning, the two friends take very different paths. Where Xavier resists the dishonourable practices of the war, Elijah embraces them. Elijah also likes to boast and promote himself, and is very talkative, whereas Xavier says next to nothing to the other soldiers. Although these two friends are so close, these differences become planted between them, and Xavier holds bitter resentment towards Elijah.

I Met A Man Named Daniel

I step quickly and intentionally, a grin of anticipation on my face. A grin of anticipation for the future of my life; who I could become. An unrealistic yet idealistic anticipation, for I have just met myself, nine years into the future.
As I begin to talk with Daniel, age twenty-five, I find that he was in many ways the same as I am now, at the age of sixteen. Reserved and thoughtful, he is quiet as I first start talking with him, and often doesn’t have much to say. This made the beginning of our conversation difficult because our timidity is mutual. But as we continue talking, he becomes more animated and loses the all too familiar discomfort of meeting someone for the first time. He starts by telling me about his life as a medical student at UBC. Coming out of high school he knew he wanted to be a doctor, and was accepted by the UBC science department. He then went on to the faculty of medicine, and spent a summer in Costa Rica, where he was able to experience being a doctor for the first time, without any true doctors experience. I could see the joy in his eyes as he described to me the operations he helped with, the sick that he helped heal. He described to me the sense of calling he felt from God, during that trip and ever since, to become a doctor; to heal the sick for the rest of his life. He will be going back to Costa Rica again soon, to stand in defiance of death and illness with the doctors he learned so much from.
He then told me about his other passion; music. He plays guitar and piano in a band, made up of a closely knit group of friends from his church in Vancouver. Together, they have recorded two full length albums, which they sell at the shows they play every weekend. Daniel tells me how he devotes most of his free time to the band, and how he and the band are planning a tour through British Columbia and Alberta in the upcoming summer. I can sense the elation and peace he feels as he once again describes the calling to use music as a way of honouring God.
He tells me how he still goes to the same church he went to Sunday School at, and how those he was closest to from childhood have remained steadfast friends all these years. He dreams of living in Vancouver for the rest of his life, travelling around the world to heal the sick and play with his band. He will continue following the path his life is on, and will keep the friends that he has loved so dearly all his life.
And as I walk away from the Daniel of the future with that grin of anticipation, I know that even if the future of my dreams doesn’t become reality, whatever God has in store for my life will be brilliant.

Xavier

In the novel “Three Day Road” by Joseph Boyden, the entire narrative revolves around the main character Xavier, an aboriginal Canadian. But in the novel, time leisurely travels from present to past and back again, dreams becoming more real than reality itself. The contrast between the Xavier of the past and the Xavier of the present is what makes his character so intriguing and heartbreaking.

The Xavier of the past, found in the personal narratives of his reminiscent nightmares, is a young, naive and honest Cree. But he is cast blindly into a new and terrible world when he and his English speaking friend Elijah volunteer to fight for Canada in the Great War. All he knows about the horrors to come are from what Elijah tells him: “Now say, ‘I am a Cree Indian from Moose Factory, and I have come to kill Germans.’ They will like that” (59). Xavier becomes very conflicted as he enters the world of war, as his personal values are contradicted by the bombardment of death and killing. When, for the first time, Xavier believes that he kills someone, he cannot bear the thought of it and “replays...the concussion and screams...over and over in [his] head so that [he] doesn’t sleep” (75). And when Elijah takes a Germans life with a sniper rifle, “the image of the soldier’s head exploding makes [Xavier’s] stomach churn” and he vomits from his empty stomach (88). Despite the endless promotion of murder, Xavier maintains his honesty and looks down upon Elijah and the other soldiers who incessantly exaggerate and boast of their shooting and killing abilities. As the war progresses Xavier becomes more accustomed to the death that surrounds him, but when time returns to the present, we find that even this reserved and righteous young man could not escape the devastation of war.

The Xavier of the present is seen through the personal narrative of his Aunt Niska, and what he has become as a result of the war is shocking and ghastly: “He walks slowly along the aisle, on crutches... He is an old man [and] so skinny. One leg of his pants...hangs down...empty...The ghost of her nephew Xavier looks at her” (6). The once vibrant and young Cree hunter “has experienced more danger than anyone should experience in a hundred lives” and it has left him ragged and torn (7). Beyond his physical ruin is a problem even more terrible, both psychological and physical: “...he can no longer live without the medicine. Their morphine eats men. [He] will not be able to live without it” (10). This deeply contrasts to the past Xavier who saw other soldiers became “a prisoner of the medicine they call morphine”, the “idea of [which] scared [him]” (65). Even Xavier’s temperament and personality have been radically transformed. Whereas before he was a peaceful man, Xavier now is full of unfulfilled rage and sorrow. He reacts to Niska’s attempts to help him by lashing out: “Her words make [him] angry. [He doesn’t] know why...[He] spit[s] in the water. ‘Leave me alone’” (76). Xavier is in such a confused state of pain, drugs and anger that he then goes on to give Niska a morbid description of fields covered in rotting corpses and trees filled with skulls. He is so lost in the misery of war that he doesn’t know how to react to his own violence with anything more than violence.

The character of Xavier is truly heartbreaking, a body hollow of the gentleness and honesty that once filled it. Xavier is a living metaphor for the devastation of war, as the contrast between the past and present Xavier proves that war will greedily devour the morals of the righteous, and leave only a shell to live on.

Radical Red River of Robson

When the sixteen days the world knows as the Olympic Games dawned, nothing could have prepared me for the change of heart I experienced. In the weeks prior to the games, I was mostly uncaring about the Olympics, except for brief moments that I became decidedly sceptical. But all that changed on the night of the Opening Ceremonies in a way that can only be described as RADICAL.

The concept of the Olympics themselves is radical; a movement towards international peace through sport and culture. The Olympics bring out patriotism in individuals and bring countries together like no other event. The International Olympic Committee have even gone so far as to create the philosophy of Olympism, which “seeks to create a way of life based on the joy of effort, the educational value of good example and respect for universal fundamental ethical principles.” Beyond just the idea of the Olympics, everything about our city holding the Olympics is radical. Greater Vancouver has undergone radical changes in the past few years, constructing and developing to make these two weeks the absolute best that they can be. Vancouver has also been filled with unending energy; Downtown Vancouver is more like an amusement park than a city centre, filled with multicultural pavilions with numerous hour line ups, an unending number of street performers, and free concerts. Even more radical are the protesters taking violent action against the Olympics, and over-excited fans protesting against the protesters. Finally, the events themselves are incredible, and to be so near to them and to cheer in unison with the rest of the city is radical.

To me, the Olympics are not only radical in the sense of change, but also in the sense of excellent and awe-inspiring. I think it’s brilliant to be able to scream my lungs raw and sing the national anthem with riotous pride whenever Canada wins a gold medal. I think it’s incredible to see people that have travelled from all around the world to see this city that we take for granted. I think it's amazing to see that Robson Street has been transformed into a river of red and white. And I think it’s radical that the 2010 Winter Olympics are in my backyard.

A Jumble of Abbreviations

In this world of constant change that we live in, new ideas and ideals often need to be accepted and embraced. There are also changes in our world that some deem to be negative and unbeneficial. Computer language and texting abbreviations are a sweeping change in western society, and dynamic and debated issues in our culture. Many would argue that texting slang is the language of the future; a more efficient form of communication. But I feel that this new and evolving “dialect” is a result of pure laziness. A major cause of this is the instantaneous nature of modern technology, which has created a culture of impatience.
When change compromises a population’s articulation and ability to express itself properly, it shouldn’t be embraced, but stopped. The English language is a beautiful result of thousands of years of development, but in a very short time we have seen it change drastically. If we continue down the path of computer language, the English language will fall apart. Poetry will no longer be flowing stanzas filled with symbolism and metaphors, but a jumble of abbreviations and acronyms. If texting slang is taught in the education system, students will struggle to read even recent literature. Older generations will become even more cut off from the youth, as people that came before cell phones and internet will have difficulty communicating in the new form of English. Although this may seem extreme, with our current pace of change and our cultures easy acceptance these problems may become real issues all too soon. That is why we as individuals and as a culture should be wary of computer language and texting abbreviations, and ask ourselves: What could result from our laziness?

The Ability To Pursue Joy

We knelt in a circle, heads bowed and arms around each others shoulders. I could feel my own body shake and my heart beat like an overexcited marching band. The beads of sweat on the four of our heads and palms were forgotten in this moment of brotherly love and exuberance. "We pray that our music tonight would bring your joy and love to our audience, and that this first concert would glorify you, God." Vince's voice was thick with emotion, as his slow blessing met each of our ears. His shoulders trembled, synchronized with ours. The "Amen" echoed as we each spoke out our belief. But that echo reverberating in my head was instantly joined by another sound, a sound that sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. The crowds wild cheers filled my head, a deafening yet distant roar that overwhelmed my senses. We stood and walked out onto the stage.

Nothing could have prepared me for that moment, that first step marking a new era in my life. The smell of new wood and perspiration filled my nostrils, and the taste of excitement on my tongue brought a wave of heat across my face. There before me was an expanse of blackness like a canyon at night. Lights glared with intense heat and brightness, and although my vision was rendered useless, the utter brilliance of the noise that erupted from that black expanse told me that the wonderful yet terrifying audience could see me.

I stepped into position on the right side of the stage. Euphoria welled inside me as I looked to see Vince, Brandon and Jeremy preparing their instruments, their eyes glassy with awe. I myself swung the strap of my Gibson SG electric guitar over my shoulder, and ran my wet palm down the smooth and familiar neck of my beloved instrument. A thought overwhelmed me, and penetrated my very heart. Here, on stage with my brothers, I was home. No feeling of contentedness in all my life compared to this moment, where dreams and reality and friendship and music all collided in one magnificent moment.

And now the moment was here, as each of our arms raised in preparation for that first deafening note. My fingers moved effortlessly into position, gliding with little resistance along the rough strings. Our arms fell towards our instruments in unison, guitar picks and drum sticks flying with expert precision in downward motion. Everything became slow as time lost its meaning and my senses were filled with that first glorious, resounding note. My ears dove into the noise, my legs shook with the power of the sound. My eyes took in the looks of joy on the crowd's now visible faces, and my fingers flew across the fretboard as naturally as a bird flies. My own voice filled the concert hall as I leaned into the microphone, our endlessly rehearsed harmonies washing over the crowd like a wave.

Each song brought bliss beyond compare to me and my fellow musicians, and I was wholly unaware of the crowds reaction to each song. I don't remember when we started a song or when we finished, as our whole set became a milestone blur of joy and sound, intertwined to become nothing less than perfection in my eyes. As I belted out my final notes, I wondered if we would receive an encore. In my confusion and abundant excitement I worriedly wondered what song we would play. And although we never did receive an encore, I received something much greater.

I received the realization that passion can meet reality, and moments can redefine joy and maturity for each of us, even when we do not realize it. In my life leading up to that concert and even in the moments prior to stepping onto that stage, I didn't know what true joy looked like in my life. But that feeling of comfort and passion that I found when I stepped onto that stage was without a doubt true joy. And to me, that's what maturity is. The ability to find my true passion, and having the commitment and will-power to pursue that passion for the rest of my life. Because of that, this concert was the single most important milestone on my journey to maturity.