Does it really make sense to have God over for dinner? I mean, he makes a big mess. He causes earthquakes and volcanoes and hurricanes and tsunamis. What do you think he’s going to do with your roast turkey? You think he’s going to pick at a drumstick and dab his lips with a napkin and say, “Oh, I’m stuffed. Thanks.”
No, he is likely to lay waste to your table. And what should you prepare for God? What does he like to eat at a feast? Do you think he’s like, “I’ll just have what she’s having?” I doubt it. You probably have to prepare some special sacrificial casserole or something. God isn’t going to drink the bottle of wine your Uncle Charlie brought. Nope. You’re going to have to head to the fancy wine story down the street and get some ancient shit from Mesopotamia or something.
So it may seem like a blessing to have God at your table…but it might be more like a curse.

I’m not even 100% sure we know what we are. We think we know ourselves but even something as intimate as ourselves feels at least 25% unknowable. I think I probably have more than average self-knowledge. I value it highly. I spend time tuning into myself to check in about who’s here. I have an awareness practice that encourages self-knowledge and I see a therapist that helps me get to know me better all the time. But I still feel there is a large amount of mystery, even in myself. It’s the dark matter of the soul. And I don’t know what I don’t know. And I don’t discover what I didn’t know until I know it.

I see this most manifested in the body. I could tell you that my image of my spine is generally incomplete. I know that. But I didn’t know that I had no awareness of my ribs in the back because I was not aware. I only found out because my Feldenkrais teacher made it plain. I could have gone a lifetime without realizing I could move those ribs back there, that breath could reach even into the back, actually – not just theoretically. Dark matter of the soul. Dark matter of the body. We know not what we may be.

What a curious piece of Christian mythology! I mean..for the most part, Christianity doesn’t go in for the transformations that Ovid made famous in Roman mythology. There aren’t a lot of metamorphoses.
I’ve been hearing this line for most of my life and I never realized its origins. I thought it was just Ophelia being crazy – saying quirky non-sequitors. Self-identifying as an owl maybe. Or her father as a baker. It felt like a fairy tale moment.
But no. This is a story about the savior transforming an ungrateful kid into an owl. That’s a Willy Wonka God right there. That’s Zeus shit.
And the story is that the baker was trying to provide some charity, bread-wise, and this girl got in the way. And was transformed into an owl for her behavior. An owl.
And presumably the baker, who now has no daughter but an OWL, is all like – “Oh praises be to the savior.”
Like – I thought the Christian god was supposed to be all forgiveness and mercy – aside from the wrath and punishment, of course. It feels like the “Christian” thing to do would be to say, “Hey kid, that’s not so nice. Maybe try being charitable. But, you know, I’m the Savior, so I forgive you. And even though I COULD turn you into an owl, I am definitely NOT going to. Because mercy. “

This is usually performed as an answer to the question she’s been posed. It’s usually a “I’m good. Thanks for asking.” Sort of reply. But it occurs to me now as I look at it afresh that it doesn’t have to be that logical. Ophelia’s not really in such a listening state. It could just as easily be an exclamatory “well” as an answer to how she is. It could be a “Well, Glory be. Look who we have here.” A “Well, spit in my eye and call me a seahorse, it’s the King!” a “Well how de doo!”

See, that comma isn’t necessarily important and even if it were, “Well” doesn’t have to be answer to Claudius’ question. She certainly doesn’t say a logical thing AFTER this sentence. She could just as easily not answer him at all.

Most scholars are most concerned with the “not” in this sentence – because it would seem that it’s the word Ophelia has added to a popular song as in, “Did you ever feel NOT like a paper bag?”
The concern being that perhaps Polonius has already been buried without ceremony and that this is what’s messing with Ophelia’s head.

The word I am most concerned with is “larded.”
“Larded.” I mean.
Lard is just sitting right there in the middle of the word. It’s, like, animal fat sitting right there next to sweet flowers. These two things do not go together. I can’t help but picture a bouquet of flowers with lard dripped all over it. Gross.

Now. I know technically the word can have connotations of embellishing and I can see how flowers could embellish a corpse. But larded is such an unpleasant word. Even if you ignore the meaning of lard sitting right there at the heart of it. It still is an ugly sounding word. Larded. I mean. Could it be lauded? Lauded I can understand. But larded is so odd.

I imagine that if you were burying someone in a snowy climate, actual snow might serve well as a shroud, as well as for the cover of a grave. I mean – sure, you probably would have some trouble getting someone into the actual ground if it’s frozen over but snow is such an otherworldly material, it seems a fitting way to send someone on their way. Not to mention the preservative effect of being packed in a lot of cold stuff.

A repetition! She has used exactly this phrase already. She doesn’t change it in any way (aside from not saying “Nay” before it.) If I were playing Ophelia, I might start with this phrase to help me understand her. For example, this phrase is essentially a request to listen, to observe, to notice, to see.
Ophelia, having largely been a cipher in the world of men making decisions, now asks to be heard. TWICE. At a moment in which she clearly has everyone’s attention. It’s like the thing she always wanted to stay but never could underneath all the “I will obey” stuff. Damn. I think I just talked myself into wanting to play Ophelia. I never have before…she was always a little too obedient to be interesting to me.
But now, I can imagine how interesting it would be to be SAYING, “I will obey,” while THINKING, “Pray you, mark.”