Answer: In the essay "Symptoms," John Steinbeck discusses the effects that war can have on soldiers. He argues that soldiers are often reluctant to talk about their experiences, and that one of the reasons for this is because they are likely to forget a lot of it as a defense mechanism.
Steinbeck explains this by comparing it to childbirth. He tells us that women have the ability to forget about pain after childbirth because this enables them to have more children. It is a defense mechanism. Similarly, soldiers are able to forget the hardship of war in order to keep living their lives or to fight in a war again.
Steinbeck probably chose this analogy in order to explain the experiences of war in a way that was more relatable to the reader. It is a successful analogy because it fulfill its purpose of explaining what war is like for soldiers.
Explanation:
- patience is required, as well as dedication, perseverance and determination.
- it depends on the goal. sometimes patience is required for precision or to accurately/fully achieve a goal, therefore it cannot be rushed. Patience may prevent mistakes from rushing to complete goals, but it really does depend on the goal itself.
Dear Dad,
You vowed that you would do it differently than your father—and you did. You were the first person in your family to graduate from high school. And college. With careful savings from your school teaching job, you swept us away to a small, suburban town—to a world of safety, order, and security.
How hard it must have been to see your one child grow wild with wanderlust.
A child who dreamed of skyscrapers and safaris and everything beyond our townhouse fences. A child who skipped, fell, danced, stumbled. Grew up. Discovered yoga. And then questioned every rule of an orderly world.
But it was yoga that saved me when you checked yourself into the hospital. The day before I was to take my test to be a yoga teacher, they cracked your heart wide open. And that became my true test—that was what you prepared me for all along.
I guided mom through gentle breathing exercises while we sat in the waiting room.
I swaddled her in yoga blankets at night and placed her in restorative poses to help her sleep. I read the Bhagavad Gita. Not the scripture you would’ve chosen for me, but I studied persistently, as your schoolteacher ways taught me.
You survived your open-heart surgery, and your heart, did in fact, open even more. For what felt like the first time, you accepted me in all my fire and defiance. A gate was unlatched. You did it differently. Just like you vowed you always would.
