“Let the field exult, and all that is in it. Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy.” (Psalm 96:12)
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Introduction:

My photo
Current: Danbury, CT, United States
Welcome! A few years ago, I discovered an application that artists employ in their works to bring cultural awareness to their audiences. Having discerned this semiotic theory that applies to literature, music, art, film, and the media, I have devoted the blog,Theory of Iconic Realism to explore this theory. The link to the publisher of my book is below. If you or your university would like a copy of this book for your library or if you would like to review it for a scholarly journal, please contact the Edwin Mellen Press at the link listed below. Looking forward to hearing from you!

Announcements

I will present or have presented research on Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) or my semiotic theory of iconic realism at the following location(s):

2023-2025: I will be researching and writing my third book on iconic realism.

April 2022: American Conference for Irish Studies, virtual event: (This paper did not discuss Sydney Owenson.) "It’s in the Air: James Joyce’s Demonstration of Cognitive Dissonance through Iconic Realism in His Novel, Ulysses"

October, 2021: Sacred Heart University, Fairfield, CT: "Sydney Owenson’s use of sociolinguistics and iconic realism to defend marginalized communities in 19th century Ireland"

March, 2021: Lenoir-Rhyne University, Hickory, North Carolina: "Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan): A Nineteenth Century Advocate for Positive Change through Creative Vision"

October, 2019: Elms College, Chicopee, Massachusetts: "A Declaration of Independence: Dissolving Sociolinguistic Borders in the Literature of Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan)"

31 August, 2024

Sweet Dreams (Codladh sámh)




Sweet Dreams (Codladh sámh)

Softly the trees sway
breezes steadily pulsating
plummeting my senses 
DEEP DEEp DEep Deep deep
into a serene, sensory 
serenade of sleep
slowly sifting
through sands of 
discernment
into a sea of dreams
where fantasy releases
the genesis 
of truth

© Jeanne I. Lakatos


(My reading of this poem is on Pod-omatic at the bottom of this page.)

Bluebell: National Bluebell Day, August 31



Bluebell

The Bluebell is a flower,
symbolizing Constancy and Helpfulness.
And I see bluebells lining the path
of a kind spirit traveling through this life
in the body of a noble person.

To this spirited traveler, 
a dynamic coalescence of meditation and action
form the foundation of relevance.
Steadiness, calm, and a quick smile
follow echoes of hearty laughs and wit.

Bluebells dance at the feet 
of this gentle, jovial spirit.
A vibrant energy and fragrance,
ever present in the serenity,
timeless and enchanting.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

30 August, 2024

BLISS is my word

Once, one of my professors asked our class to choose a word from Spenser's The Faerie Queene that particularly intrigued us. I chose the word, bliss. Below is a poem that explains my perspective of this word, for I thankfully pray for blessings received each day.


"Praise the Lord with the harp, make music to Him on the ten-string lyre. 
Sing to Him a new song, play skillfully and shout for joy." (Psalm 33: 2-3)

Bliss

In the Oxford English Dictionary
 resides the little word,
bliss
So many entries for this little word:
bless, blessed and even bleche!
Heavenly gifts 
juxtaposed 
with human expression.

We have the responsibility
to emulate higher levels of demeanor
to elevate awareness,
for each of us has been blessed
with gifts that enhance the living
presence surrounding us
moving humanity forward
in peaceful bliss.

My bliss originates 
in the glorious way 
we speak to one another.
I scrutinize others,
make mental notes 
of their paralanguage:
spiritual linguistics
where the core of truth 
generates the coexistence 
of benevolence and deceit: dissonance!

Sometimes, this confuses me…Bleche!
so I retreat 
to Prayer, the voice within, the Glor*
where music of eternal natural peace 
and soothing sound waves of passion
form consonant harmonies,
my personal bliss.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos    

*Glor: the Irish Gaeilge word for voice, sound

29 August, 2024

Out of the Fog




I took this photo in Dublin, Ireland...after being lost in Dun Laoghaire all day.
I thought it was amazing that a small white cloud seemed to surround the light on the lamppost.

Head 
out of the fog,
and soon, 
distortion dissipates. 
Recognition
of a flawed distinction
 leads to a renaissance.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

28 August, 2024

Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) and Disparate Characterizations in The Missionary

Cover of Sydney Owenson's novel, The Missionary

From my book, pp. 33-34: 

In her 1811 novel, The Missionary, Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) uses realism in conjunction with an icon to illustrate her views on cultural adaptation. In the following passage, she describes the realistic nature of Hilarion as a young, conflicted priest, who sacrifices earthly pleasures to honor his faith:

All that could touch in the saint, or impose in the man breathed around him: the sublimity of religion, and the splendour of beauty, the purity of faith, and the dignity of manhood; grace and majesty, holiness and simplicity, diffusing their combined influence over his form and motions, his look and air. (The Missionary, p. 82)
In contrast, Luxima, the Hindu Priestess, embodies beauty with spirituality as she interacts with the Missionary through her “dovelike eyes and innocent hands…raised in same direction, for gazing on the glories of the firmament, a feeling of rapturous devotion, awakened and exalted by the enthusiasm of the Missionary, filled her soul.” (The Missionary, p. 121) Not only do her characters contain realistic qualities that independently represent their iconic associations, but her setting this tale in India, provides the other realistic aspect of Owenson’s novel, for in the seventeenth century, India is the focus of European nations, who are seeking new economic and political territories to whet their imperial appetites. Moreover, the Catholic Church, having made so many dissenters from its powerful stance, needed to expand its philosophical territories, so the emergence of missionaries became a reality in India during the early seventeenth century. Portuguese missionaries do travel to India for the purpose of religious conversion of the non-Christian Hindus. Owenson draws upon observations from the historical documentations of Francois Bernier (1625-1688) to provide anthropological references as a means to create realistic characterizations, as she brings two people together in a Garden of Eden to form the genesis of a consciousness that alerts her audience to the possibilities of overzealous proselytizing of any stalwart community.

Owenson represents iconic realism with the placement of Hilarion, the Franciscan Priest, an icon of Jesus Christ and European philosophy, physically and spiritually immersed with Indian culture through his interaction with an Indian Priestess, the icon of 17th century Hindu community and victimized follower of a faith and culture that is targeted for conversion. As Thomas Kavanagh points out:

The signified meanings, instead of being accepted as such, instead of taking us outside the text as text, become themselves the signifiers of the iconic signs, of a continuing movement, of a second temporality definable only within the parameters of the text.” [1]
Hilarion is a Catholic Missionary because he is the nephew to the Archbishop of Lisbon. Although her description of his qualities is quite flattering, under his cloak of religiosity, his true nature is simply that of an ordinary man. As a true follower of Jesus Christ, he transfigures into a real person with real emotions and real anxieties regarding the bureaucracy of his organized religion. In Owenson’s portrayal of him as an icon set within the realism of seventeenth century India, he signifies two elements: the Catholic Church of the Inquisition period and imperialistic England, whose dogmatic government maintains its own mission to convert the Irish to the British consciousness. John Locke, in his essay on the “Powers of the Commonwealth” refers to this form of bureaucracy in government and religion:

For no man or society of men having a power to deliver up their preservation, or consequently the means of it, to the absolute will and arbitrary dominion of another, whenever anyone shall go about to bring them into such a slavish condition, they will always have a right to preserve what they have not a power to part with, and to rid themselves of those who invade this fundamental, sacred, and unalterable law of self-preservation for which they entered society. And thus the community may be said in this respect to be always the supreme power, but not as considered under any form of government, because this power of the people can never take place till the government be dissolved. [2]
Thus, the hierarchy of authority within human society creates significant conflict of interest for those whose mindset differs from the status quo. Owenson demonstrates this conflict through her disparate characterizations.




[1] Thomas Kavanagh, “Time and Narration: Indexical and Iconic Models” in Comparative Literature, MLN, 86. 6 (1971), p. 832.

[2] John Locke, in Howard R. Penniman (ed.), John Locke: On Politics and Education (Roslyn, New York:  Walter J. Black, Inc., 1947), p. 152. 

27 August, 2024

Strength Within

Since transformation is part of my blog's title, I composed this villanelle, containing the poetic framework creating a linguistic form of life's ebb and flow. This poem's theme is that a loving, driving, heavenly force can bring a transforming strength, and I hope you enjoy it. 


Strength Within

Draw from Love that brings your verve its aim,
for gently comes the mission that will bring
the strength within that only you can name.

Your passion resonates hope; now proclaim
the song that desires your voice, and boldly sing.
Draw from Love that brings your verve its aim!

Intricacy builds clarity as the frame 
of delicately interlaced might, healing
the strength within that only you can name.
 
Travail with challenge evolves, as the game
of motivating resolve becomes your freeing.
Draw from Love that brings your verve its aim.

Benevolence and wonder: Adventure’s name
and yours when life moves on by loving
the strength within that only you can name.

Acknowledge from your heart that you can't tame
the Sacred Grace from unleashing torment’s cling.
Draw from Love that brings your verve its aim,
the strength within that only you can name.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

26 August, 2024

Anaphora Poetry

Below, is a poem written in the Anaphora poetic format, the repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of multiple lines, often in succession. I took the photo in Dublin at an international street vendor competition. Observing this 'angel' or 'fairy' with the many children she attracted was divine or magical.



For... Giveness

Given 
from the heart,
given with humility,
given freely,
this gift of joy
is a given 
that another will 
give,
passing the gift
forward.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

25 August, 2024

Thomas Paine and Revolutionary Consciousness: A Lesson for Twenty-First Century Readers

Thomas Paine, Rights of Man (photos from Google images)

Thomas Paine differentiates between natural and civil rights of man, with the latter originating from the former. He interprets the aristocracy’s use of language as a means of establishing a sense of power. Relating the consciousness of the eighteenth-century mindset, Paine elucidates for his readers an emerging global consciousness in Rights of Man:

The progress of time and circumstances, which men assign to the accomplishment of great changes, is too mechanical to measure the force of the mind, and the rapidity of reflection, by which revolutions are generated:  All the old governments have received a shock from those that already appear, and which were once more improbable, and are a greater subject of wonder, than a general revolution in Europe would be now…. what we now see in the world, from the Revolutions of America and France, are a renovation of the natural order of things, a system of principles as universal as truth and existence of man, and combining moral with political happiness and national prosperity.

These fundamental beliefs authentically provide Paine's readership with contrasting attributes of the narrow vision present in governmental hierarchy in contrast with those belonging to humanity in general. A correlation between humanity and nature formed the consciousness of revolutionary thought, which eventually fed into the elaborate (and beautiful) artistic, musical, and literary expressions of Romanticism. 

Our politicians of the twenty-first century could do well to consider Mr. Paine's words. It's August 25, 2024. Are we on the brink of realizing free expression, found within the core of human creativity....or... are we on the brink of a constrained life experience, found in a contrived order as the result of total control of the human mind and spirit? 

24 August, 2024

Another Day


Even though we are in the end of summer, I can still see new growth and birth throughout my surroundings. Isn't that usually the case? No matter what time or era, possibilities exist for positive courses to prevail, especially if one has faith. I wrote this poem for my Mother as a Mother's Day gift many years ago. Her first name was Pearl. May she rest in Eternal Peace. Enjoy!


Another Day

The sun bestows 
a benevolent glow.
Sweet harmonies 
fill feathered hearts
while a glistening Pearl drop of dew
moistens the rose's brow.
A wind blows softly through the trees,
gathering wisps of life,
and soon the world is awake and moist
with the birth of another day. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

23 August, 2024

Faith like a Rock (or Ode to a Friend)

Decades ago, I lived in Atlanta and received a letter from a friend who lived in my hometown in Michigan. She wrote to tell me that our mutual friend in Junior High School had committed suicide. We were all cheerleaders, and it was so sad to learn that this young girl came to such a sad ending. After praying, I wrote this poem, "Faith like a Rock (or Ode to a Friend)." Unfortunately, our friend ended up as a drifting river. 

Photo of a stream near my home with a small, gentle waterfall and many rocks

Faith like a Rock
(or Ode to a Friend)

So this is life ~
engulfing 
the sorrows and heartaches
of human weakness.
There are no tides without the ocean depths.
A tear can stroke my cheek,
but where is Faith?

The heart can contain emotions.
The soul can contain feelings.

A waterfall may flow forever, 
but without the steadfast Rock,
it is only a drifting river.
Each of us has a Rock
which harbors our heart. 
The stronger the Rock, 
the more tender the soul. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

22 August, 2024

When in France...

                                         The view from a hotel room in Reims, France, taken some years ago.

A few years ago, I presented a paper at the annual Association of Franco-Irish Studies conference in Reims, France. Ever since I spoke that first French word in my ninth grade French class, I've longed to go to that country. Finally, decades later, my dreams came true but not without the unfortunate realization that there were no washcloths at my hotel. So.....


When in France

In a French hotel in la cité de Reims,
an American searches for a washcloth. 
Alas, she finds none in this room,
so she must make do. 
This is France after all.
Sparkling white tub beckons her.
“Okay, Okay!”
She turns the water handle to HOT
and gently pours shampoo into the steady stream,
splashing the rising water to create more bubbles.
Then, smiling, she steps into the steaming water,
now filled with mounds of fluffy, fragrant bubbles,
closes her eyes and whispers to the 13-year-old girl
sitting in a French class, south of Detroit, decades ago.
“Oui, Jeanne ... tu seras en France un jour.”

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

21 August, 2024

A Revolution Within

The view from my desk


Finding the Way

When we walk along life's path, 
eventually, we acknowledge
 that creative ground which supports our steps. 
Longing to find the way, 
we clear the path of debris, 
 as we accommodate the Divine footsteps
 that gently lead us forward.
 Fortitude emerges with the recognition
 that we have the power to
 adjust, adapt, attempt, achieve, affect.  
We evolve; 
we make a difference.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

20 August, 2024

Memories of My Dad

August 20 would be my Dad's 99th birthday. May he rest in Eternal Peace. A few years ago, I participated in a literary challenge to write about our fathers. This is not a poem; it's a reflection of the time that my father brought me some Siberian iris tubers, and each year, I feel his presence as the irises propagate annually. The ones in the photo are from this year's blooms. 


Blue Iris:
A Reflection of my Dad

I didn’t realize it would be the final kiss on his dimpled cheek, that the irises he brought would be his last gift to me. “They’re blue, like your eyes, and they have your name,” he winks as he carefully unwraps the newspaper and inspects each delicate tuber. 

Thinking back as if it were just yesterday…

* I was picking green apples in our backyard on a hot August afternoon. I glanced down to see my T-shirt covered with ants; I ran, screaming, “Daddy! Daddy!" Calmly, he brushed the ants off my shivering 4-year old self. “There, there, it’s nothing. See? All gone.”

* Glancing down at my hands now, I remember my little fingers clinging tightly to the rim of the old green wheelbarrow, as I sit atop a pile of fresh grass clippings, inhaling the sweetness. My own dimpled smile reflects his as he merrily sings or whistles a variety of tunes.

* His lap is the best seat in the house while we watch the Tigers defeat any other team on T.V.

* As a sophomore in high school, I can still hear his lighter click as he inhales yet another Lucky Strike and sketches lines and digits. Then, my Dad, the chemist, patiently explains one more geometry theorem to me for the night.

* Purple heart, bronze star, and a battle wound scar in his leg from the Battle of the Bulge that never kept him from running with the ball during many a neighborhood baseball game or a quick game of handball with my Mom.

Once, he brought a spray of blue Siberian irises for me to plant in my garden. There, outside my window grows a sea of blue, each year more irises than the year before, winking at me. 

                                                                Thanks, Dad. I love you. 

My Dad as a young boy with his dog, Snowball.
Be sure to save and label old photos. 


                                                                   © Jeanne I. Lakatos

19 August, 2024

Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan): 19th Century Revolutionary


Sydney Owenson sheds light on the status of the common man and woman in mid-nineteenth century Ireland and incorporates semiotic structures within her works to communicate with her readers the various discrepancies in legislation, particularly the Act of Union 1801, decades after its enactment. Although inequity in governmental legislation exists internationally, by 1825, the imbalance within the legislative structures is unacceptable to intelligent women associated with the British or the Irish aristocracy along with the increasing numbers of female writers and readers.

For example, in the preface of her essay entitled, Absenteeism, she highlights the need for both the English and the Irish to be mindful of their patriotic responsibilities:

Notwithstanding the intense interest which is felt throughout all England concerning Ireland and Irish affairs, notwithstanding the frequent debates in parliament, and more frequent pamphlets and volumes published on points of Irish politics and economy, the prevailing ignorance on these subjects still operates powerfully in maintaining prejudices the most unfounded and the most fatal, and in retarding those measures of wisdom and of justice without which Ireland can never be happy; or the British Empire secure. [1]

In this statement, Owenson demonstrates commonality between the authority, England, and the respective community of Ireland, as she begins with the phrase, ‘notwithstanding the intense interest which is felt…’ Thus, she engages in the use of negative phraseology linked with passive voice to unite the divergent intentions of England and Ireland.


[1] Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan), Absenteeism, (London: Henry Colburn, 1825) pp. ix and x. For future reference within this study, the work will be cited as Abs.

18 August, 2024

For August 18th: National Couples Day, a Love Poem: Two Lives

August 18th is National Couples Day, so below is a poem that I've given to friends in the past as a wedding gift. I'd hand-pen it exquisitely on parchment paper in either Chancery Cursive or Old English calligraphy with iconography to frame the words, and place it in a lovely frame. Ha! Surely, they've been best sellers at tag sales.  Here 'tis: 

I took this photo in Kilkenny, Ireland.

Two Lives
Two lives entwined
through space and time
sharing an opus 
together, 
each day to bring
a step toward the dream
of Love's harmonic embrace.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

17 August, 2024

Spin Cycle

With the topic of Confusion, I've chosen the metaphor of a washer because nothing creates a turn like a good spin cycle.  The reading of this poem has been posted on Podomatic. 
from Google images

Spin Cycle

Confusion
agitates in a murky froth
volleying my thoughts
back and forth, back and forth,
do or don't, can or can't, will or won't,
until remnants of every smear
swirl into a watery, soapy tuft.
Blended tones collide
to form mottled suds.
Cascading pools jostle
my consciousness;
a circular spin
wrings out the truth.
From this cycle
my mind turns, and 
I am cleansed.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos 

Crickets in Love

Cherishing the final weeks of summer, below, is a little poem I wrote on the soothing sound of crickets in love under the moon's light. Enjoy! 



Crickets in Love

Suspended 
sound waves
fill the senses
echoing harmonics
soothe 
reverberate
through chambers
of hearts
pulsating rhythms
an intricate loving 
coalescence 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

from lifeandberyl.blogspot.com

16 August, 2024

Back to School (or) A New Box of Crayons

Many thoughts race through my head at this time of the year. One, in particular, is a memory of that brand new box of crayons (usually only the 24-crayon box) I would look forward to seeing in my clean book bag, so lovely and organized, ready for the new school year. One year, it was the 64-crayon box!  Hmmm... a childhood dilemma, which crayon shall I choose first? 



Back to School 
(or) 
A New Box of Crayons

There is nothing as sweet as the waxy aroma
of a brand new 64-count box of Crayola crayons
bought especially for that first day of school.
It has the crayon sharpener right on the box!
And oh, the most marvelous feeling:
sliding the very first crayon out of its sleeve.
Periwinkle Blue! Carnation Pink! Burnt Siena!

What does it mean, this lovely box of crayons?
Summer is over! Those lazy, creative days sitting
under the maple tree, dreaming of 'next school year'
are etched forever as summer childhood memories.
Those encouraging words from last June come alive. 
New: books, shoes, clothes, hope, friends! 
Old ones, too, but now with new stories to share. 

Early autumn, with its cool breezes, 
whisks colorful leaves that dance among fallen apples: 
Nature's own fresh box of crayons. 
Tossed with a sanguine force that energizes 
each step toward the school's front door,
kind smiles herald enlightenment 
radiating from a Teacher's welcoming heart.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

15 August, 2024

August 15: The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

 The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Painting by Sir Peter Paul Rubens

1626

housed in the Cathedral of Our Lady, Antwerp


Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. 
Blessed art thou among women, 
and Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. 
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
Pray for us sinners, 
now and at the hour of our death. 
Amen.

Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum, 
benedicta tu in mulieribus, 
et benedictus fructus ventris tui, lesus. 
Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, 
nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. 
Amen

14 August, 2024

Attack of the Georgia June Bugs

I had to remove the photo of the June Bug. 
It just gave me the creeps.

With warm days behind and ahead of us, my mind immediately traveled to a memory of one laundry night, many years ago, when I lived in Atlanta, Georgia. If you have never encountered a Georgia June bug, well, let me tell you... you are fortunate indeed. The darn things are about two inches long and click and sputter around lights at night, all summer long. ugh! ugh! (worth 2 ughs!) Anyway, here's the poem:

Attack of the Georgia June Bugs

Snugly against my right hip,
I carry laundry, clean and folded,
in a wicker basket on a hot, southern night.

Georgia June bugs encircle my head.
Zipping to and fro, their wings roar
like ghosts of B-52 bombers.

I run to escape 
their clicking laughs;
laundry jostles over the edges of the basket.

Quickly. I swoop 
to retrieve escaping undergarments
before anyone sees me or those bugs get nearer.

“Don’t you dare fly into my hair!”
Ah, at last! 
I’m inside my apartment.
Only one goal: to chug a cold beer.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

13 August, 2024

Patriotic Sketches





I took this photo of a plaque dedicated to Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan). 
It's located on Kildare Street, Dublin, Ireland, 
where she lived for a while in the early  19th century. 


In her book, Patriotic Sketches of Ireland (1807), Sydney Owenson observes political philosophy in the following manner:

...an extension of the mind’s eye to the whole great scale of civil society, and demonstrating the close-linked dependencies of its remotest parts, affords to the benevolence of the human heart, and the comprehension of the human understanding, a social system, gratifying to the feelings of the one, and ennobling to the faculties of the other. (Owenson, 33) 

Here, she illumines her reading audience with the possibilities of revolution through an elevated human consciousness. Particularly, she mentions "benevolence of the human heart." Currently, we need to focus on the strength found between each heartbeat, that electro-magnetic force guiding each human mind. 

As I make my decision for the right person to be the leader of the Executive Branch of the United States and Commander in Chief of the U.S. armed forces, I will be observing which candidate has demonstrated the qualities found in the truest human heart. That person won't be perfect. No one is. 

However, that person will be one who is willing to uphold the U.S. Constitution and will be protective of each human heartbeat, even those who are the most vulnerable: a true patriotic servant, who is willing to be "ennobling to the faculties of the other."