Was ist das licht?
It was the end of my senior year, and the German teacher required that we write an essay completely “auf Deutsch.” (in German) The prompt she gave us was:
Was ist das light… that is: What is the “light”?
I can’t remember anyone else’s approach, but this was mine:
It was the moment of truth, the last test of his courage. Others had been there before him who had gone into the chamber. But one won’t learn anything from these people, as they don’t want to part with their knowledge. Perhaps they were driven crazy by this phenomenon, “light.”
Since the creation of the chamber, “Sunlight,” the only people who had entered this space were the “avant-garde,” or the aristocrats, who were in search of solitude.*
Should he dare to risk his cold, blind world of darkness for the foreign world of light?
And there was the door handle. Through it coursed 1300 volts of electricity, except for 5 minutes each day. However, no one other than the scientists, with all their calculations, could surmise the correct 5 minutes. If he touched the handle at the wrong time, it would mean instant death. Why would he do this? What could he hope to accomplish? What was in this chamber? Why was it chosen?
”Inappropriate questions,” he thought. Others had gotten into the chamber, and so would he, regardless of if he must risk his mental stability, and would be driven crazy.
Debbie Phillip
1973 – Senior year, Torrington High School
German III homework; Writing prompt: What is the light?
The defiant spark
When I read this now, I am just blown away. All my adult life, I wrote off that teen version of myself as a loser. Oh my God, what an error I made in judging her so.
When I look at the level of defiance in this essay, the courage, the willingness to risk all for her own path, I have to marvel. I mean, I had been emotionally, physically, mentally, and sexually controlled and abused for 17 years. I had been deprived of the normal emotional development experiences and not allowed to be my own person.
And true, I still didn’t think of any of that as “abuse” — as an actual crime. When you grow up in something, that is simply your norm. You just shrug it off as – when the going’s good, enjoy it, and when it’s bad, survive it.
Yet, despite all of that, there was still inside me this FIRE to keep going and reach for the impossible. How could I have done that when by all rights I should have been destroyed by all he did to me?
I can only say that I deeply apologize to my young teen self for the hate I directed at her. I honor her courage, determination, and fight. She was and is a survivor!
The unexpected gifts from beyond
And I give thanks to the Universe for the gifts sent to sustain me….for sending people like Terry Doyle, and a few others, who fed my soul with what I needed, at just the right time, so that my spark stayed alive and even grew.
None of those gifts were things I sought or expected. And certainly, I hadn’t set them in motion.
They came from …beyond me. I was passive in obtaining them. Yet, the Universe saw my need and sent people. Maybe all those prayers for help were being answered in a way, even if the path was going to be long and hard? I don’t know. Maybe the Universe sends things, and it is up to us to recognize they are gifts we can use, in that moment.
As to passive gifts, the Universe wasn’t done yet that year….
I got into the National Honor Society that year. Somehow, I made it onto the list of the top 10% of the class. Granted, I was the very last one on the list, but hey, I did it. And as to the NHS, I hadn’t applied or asked. But I was told I made it.
Then there was the upcoming college application process. I had no real idea of how to navigate that, and no help at home. Just the information I received from the guidance office. They said apply to a couple places so I did. I got into both.
But I had no money. One was a private college and I knew that was a non-starter. The other was the University of Connecticut, which had a local branch. I could go there, live home, and my parents just got an extra car, so I had the old station wagon to commute.
And then, I somehow got a $400 scholarship from a local women’s club even though I hadn’t applied or asked, and didn’t even know it existed. I have no idea who decided I should get that money, but I thank them and God. That about covered my first year expenses.
The things I could do
So somehow, I was going to college! My dream. I wanted to be an English teacher, like Terry Doyle. My hero. I kept reading all kinds of literature, greedy for the knowledge. Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha, about the young Indian prince who became the Buddha. Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange, a futuristic novel about a teen rapist who was then manipulated by the “state” to be the model human. And Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago and One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, both about the brutalities of the Soviet labor camps. Nothing light. I went after the hard things, things again beyond me, but I wanted to learn. And of course, more poetry.
While the way to college was partly brought about by things I didn’t do, the things I had done — work hard, study, dream, and take in all the gifts my teachers offered — made a difference. So I was determined to keep that up.
The other thing I did myself…
And there was one other thing I actually DID do on my own — have a boyfriend.
All through high school, I hadn’t dated. Partly, Dad was busy keeping me to himself. And, while it was something I longed for, I was so …inept at social things. I was behind everyone else socially and emotionally.
I was also focused on schoolwork. It was my escape from the abuse at home and the discomfort of not fitting in with my peers. Also, it was my future path out of the house. School was my anchor, so that came first in my mind.
What was wrong with me?
Add to it that frankly,…I was afraid of boys. Even as I had my crushes and had male friends, the idea of “getting close like that” just freaked me out. My body was already not my own as it was. I was always being hunted by Dad. So I didn’t need some boyfriend controlling my social life and then wanting the same things from me that Dad wanted. I was burned out on being chased.
Other girls would gush about how sexy some guy was or all the boys they wanted to date. And they would work overtime to try and get the boys’ attention. Clothes. Makeup. I’d watch it all and feel…nothing. I’d wonder why they were so excited about “catching a guy.” I couldn’t have cared less. I had my own dreams.
And yet, I wondered what was wrong with me. I figured it was because of “that stuff” with Dad. I knew I wasn’t “normal,” like the other girls were. Again, I was that aberration of nature. So what was the point?
But sometimes, those eyes
Yet, occasionally, there were guys…gentle ones with soft eyes that mirrored their compassionate hearts within. And one in particular, just before I graduated.
A young man who was shy in some ways, like me. Who was going into the Navy. Electronics was his passion. His family had little money, and the Navy was his ticket to something better in life. So he had dreams and determination. A kindred spirit. And for once, my heart opened in spite of my “walls.” We started talking. He lit up as he talked about his visions, and I lit up because I thought, “This is a neat person.” For once, my guard dropped.
And, he was going into the Navy… My father had been in the Navy. If ever there was a boy he might actually accept as a date for me, this one might be it. And that turned out to be true.
It would have to end….right?
It was confusing, though. Dad liked him a lot and bonded over the whole Navy thing. And the electronics thing. That was Dad’s path, too. So he was actually fine with this. I thought, “Maybe now it will finally stop. He can’t keep doing this FOREVER..right?” I thought about his comment that he was “teaching me for my future husband.” Well, certainly he would HAVE to let go of me before that…right?
But…no. In fact, in some ways, it was worse. I’d come home from a date, and he would “check me” to see if I was turned on from my date. So, in spite of this being a guy I truly did like, and probably one of the few I actually could feel something for despite the damage from all the abuse, the relationship would eventually end. Frankly, when it did, I wouldn’t be upset. Just relieved. One less man draining my freedom and energy.
But for that moment in high school, I had my ticket to college. Some money. A car. And a boyfriend. Life had opened new pathways, and I was ready to take them on.
Soul Mosaic 
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