Back Porch Ponderings: The Jesus Prayer, J.D. Salinger, and Introverts

Yesterday I basked in a beautiful spring day in Indiana out on my mom's back porch, doing one of my favorite things:  reading!  During my visit, while my mom recovers from her second hip-replacement surgery (she's doing GREAT!), I'm determined to finish up The Introvert Advantage: How to Thrive in an Extrovert World  by Marti Olsen Laney.  I'm also re-reading Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger.

According to Laney's helpful assessment of introversion, "The strongest distinguishing characteristic of introverts is their energy source:  Introverts draw energy from their internal world of ideas, emotions, and impressions  They are energy conservers.  They can be easily over stimulated by the external world, experiencing the uncomfortable feeling of 'too much'." Ahem.  That's me.

An introvert of celebrity status, New York native J.D. Salinger was famous for not wanting literary fame.  Beyond mere introversion, he fiercely guarded his privacy, ultimately choosing seclusion for more than a half century.

In 1953, two years after the publication of Catcher in the Rye, he withdrew from the outside world for over half a century in the small New Hampshire town of Cornish. You can see his home here (I have to admit, it looks very tempting! I can see why he loved it.)  And you can read his neighbors' defense of his seclusion as being more of an attempt of a quiet man needing privacy, than that of a reclusive man wanting isolation, in this article from the NY Times.

J.D. Salinger
January 1, 1919 - January 27, 2010

Back to my mom's back porch. I enjoyed a quiet spring afternoon Salinger would have relished: solitary time with my books, a mug of coffee, a view of the stark leafless trees in the woods against a pale blue sky, with music from a CD of Puccini's opera arias floating on the breeze through the open (not bolted) sliding glass door out to where I was sitting!

My attempt at Salinger's brooding stare!

J.D. Salinger's Franny and Zooey (1961) reads almost like a script for a play, complete with stage setting, props, and characters' movements noted in detail.  The intellectually charged "lines" of dialogue between the characters is full of italicized staccatos.

The narrative is in two parts.  The short story, Franny (originally published in The New Yorker, 1955), takes place in a college town and involves an undergraduate girl who has become disenchanted with - and lost respect for - those in the academic environment around her. Franny is seeking answers from a book, The Way of a Pilgrim, that one of her professors has recommended to her. The novella, Zooey (published in The New Yorker, 1957), refers to Zooey Glass, Franny's brother and the second-youngest member of the Glass family (the Glass siblings, all rather brilliant, had each, as children, participated in a radio quiz program "It's a Wise Child".) In this second half of the book, Zooey confronts his younger sister, Franny, as she suffers a near mental and spiritual breakdown in their parents' Manhattan living room apartment - leaving their mother, "Bessie", worried and concerned.  He offers Franny rather sage advice, along with brotherly love and understanding.

I decided to re-read Franny and Zooey this year during Lent because of the spiritual lesson Franny learns in the story. She has become obsessed with saying "The Jesus Prayer", Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, which she has learned from the Pilgrim book.  But she has been praying it as a religious mantra, as opposed to a loving request, and without understanding the point of it.

Zooey helps her understand that the Jesus Prayer is about finding unity with God, and that all humankind deserves our love and respect.  He tells her:

We're carrying the Kingdom of Heaven around with us, inside...I swear to you, you're missing the whole point of the Jesus Prayer.  The Jesus Prayer has one aim, and one aim only.  To endow the person who says it with Christ-Consciousness.  Not to set up some cozy, holier-than-thou trysting place with some sticky, adorable divine personage who'll take you in his arms and relieve you of all your duties and make all your nasty Weltschmerzen ["evils of the world"] and Professor Tuppers go away and never come back...

And isn't this the point of Lent?  We strive to come back to God and the mercy that He offers to us through His Son Jesus, who will "trample down death by death" on Pascha!

Last night I attended the beautiful Orthodox Liturgy of Pre-Sanctified Gifts, a mid-week Lenten Eucharistic service.  My ears perked up as my brother - the priest at my mom's parish - quietly spoke the barely-audible words, "Through the prayers of the Holy Fathers, Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on us," over and over, while he solemnly transferred the pre-sanctified gifts to the holy altar table, his head covered in reverence.  The congregation quietly knelt in prostration, then rose, as the choir intoned: 

Now the powers of heaven do serve invisibly with us. 

Lo, the King of Glory enters. 

Lo, the mystical sacrifice is upborne, fulfilled. 

Let us draw near in faith and love, and become communicants of life eternal. 

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.

You can read my past post about the children's book The Jesus Prayer and Me, here.

Why Jane Austen is on My iPhone...

It hasn't been that long since I got an iPhone. I knew my first reaction to hearing it ring - or "ding" with the arrival of a text message - would be stress, as opposed to anticipation of a fun conversation (don't even get me started on group texts; they're the worst!) 

I used to feel guilty about not liking to answer my phone, but then I learned that it's a common trait among introverts, not just an aversion to cell phones because of my exposure to bad smartphone etiquette.  

So, when I finally succumbed to getting a smartphone, why did I choose a portrait of Jane Austen (a fellow introvert) for my phone cover?

"I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading!"
- Jane Austen [Notecard, source]

We introverts would rather be lost in a book, or spend one-on-one time with a close friend, then be on the phone or in a group setting. (Unlike Mrs. Bennet, it takes a huge amount of thought and effort for me to make small talk.)

We introverts treasure alone time. When I'm alone, I'm generally recharging my batteries from being with people, and a phone call feels intrusive and takes energy I may not have at the moment ("Resting your feet is also important, especially after a ball," Jane would interject).  Downtime doesn't feel unproductive to us.

We introverts like face to face time for conversation. Of course, a short email or text is the most convenient way to answer a quick question, but I'd much rather spend time face to face with a friend if we're going to have a meaningful conversation (I can just hear Jane now: "especially if that friend is Mr. Darcy").  

We introverts don't like distractions when we're in the middle of something (in Jane's case, writing a novel). When I'm with someone, or in the middle of a project, I feel frustrated taking a call or answering a text message.  I'm focused, and getting interrupted by a phone call from someone who is not there can feel overwhelming.

Don't get me wrong, I look forward to chatting on the phone and catching up with family and close friends whom I don't live near enough to visit with face to face. 

I just can't handle being available for unexpected interruptions 24/7. That's why, when it's not convenient to talk, I let my calls go straight to my voice mail, and call people back.

 
You can imagine I felt very validated when I came across an article, "Nine Signs You Might Be An Introvert", and read Number Six:  You haven’t answered a ringing telephone in years!

"...The telephone is intrusive, especially for introverts, whose brains don’t switch gears all that quickly. When we’re deep in thought, a ringing telephone is like a shrieking alarm clock in the morning. And we often give bad phone—awkward, with pauses. We struggle without visual cues, and our tendency to ponder before we talk doesn’t play well on the telephone...Dislike of the phone is often presented as a moral failing. But honestly, it’s not the people on the phone we dislike, it’s the instrument of delivery."  [source: Nine Signs That You Might Be An Introvert, by Sophia Dembling.]

By the way, I'm pretty sure Mr. Darcy is an introvert.  Maybe I'll put him on my next phone cover...

Have an Inkling You Might Be an Introvert?
Not sure if you're an introvert? In a nutshell, here are the Nine Signs to consider.  (Read detailed descriptions here.)
1. You rarely think, "the more the merrier".
2. You consider doing nothing about something.
3. Sometimes you feel like your head might explode.
4. You hide in the bathroom sometimes.
5. You are ready to leave parties shortly after arriving.
6. You haven't answered a ringing telephone in years.
7. You prefer one close friend to a 100 lovely acquaintances.
8. You can't imagine what all those people find to talk about.
9. You actively avoid anything that might involve audience participation.

So why do I think Miss Austen, if she were alive today, would understand me and my lack of enthusiasm for phone interruptions?

A Few Awesome (Introvert) Austen-isms
Take a peek at these quotes, which have led many to think Jane was an introvert.  Most of them are taken from letters to her "one close friend", her sister Cassandra...

Ah! There is nothing like staying home, for real comfort.

Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.

Every man is surrounded by a neighborhood of voluntary spies.

There is a monstrous deal of stupid quizzing, & common-place nonsense talked, but scarcely any wit.

I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them a great deal.

We are to have a tiny party here tonight. I hate tiny parties, they force one into constant exertion. 

. . . tho’ I like Miss H. M. as much as one can at my time of Life after a day’s acquaintance, it is uphill work to be talking to those whom one knows so little.

But for my own part, if a book is well written, I always find it too short.

- Jane Austen