I am going to take you on a journey for the next few minutes. We shall take a little daydream interlude to Oxford, England. It is the place I go frequently in real life and in my head. Oxford is always in my head, let's be honest. We will fly over the most beautiful city to see the dreaming spires that rise into the sky. I will point out the chapels, churches, and libraries. They all are part of the landscape of the city. They hold memories of time and history.
Next I will take you to ground level, because that's the best way to get to know a city. Walk all the streets and small side roads that carry more foot traffic and bike traffic than anything. Pass all the colleges and their grand entrances with big wooden doors that creak when you open them. There's a lot to see and stand in awe of. Be careful on the cobbled streets, they are a bit uneven. You will likely hear all the bells of the colleges and chapels as we wander. It's magical.
Bits and pieces of history can be told about the buildings, the streets, the people who came before us. Centuries of it is at our fingertips. I will be sure to point out many C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien connections/places that hold some interesting stories. Harry Potter, too. Don't worry about getting too tired. We will stop at a great place for tea, and a snack. It may even be the cafe at the Weston Library, which has views of the library and the Sheldonian Theatre across the street. It's a wonderful people-watching spot. It's also where I will take a little time to write in my journal as the buzz of the cafe continue around me. As tea cups clink on saucers, we will enjoy some musing moments.
The scene changes, and it all feels different. Go to a different town, and the familiar can somehow feel unfamiliar. Visit some favourite spots of a known town, and enjoy the different feeling of the places. Even as they hold past years of memories.
The coastal feel changes the whole experience for me. When a town is on the water, the landscape, the weather, the breezes are all different. That tropical sense is also apparent in all the views. Palm trees are the most frequent plant. The way people dress is different. Most people are either on holiday or retired (so it seems). They wear shorts, skirts, tropical shirts, sandals. A beauty rests in the relaxed atmosphere of the people on the whole.
It's a busy place. If everyone is on holiday they are dashing to and fro on the roads. I seek out the quieter places, the coffee shop, the book shop. Thankfully, I avoid the crowds that are all shopping. I purposefully avoid them because I don't want their stress. I seek the feeling of a holiday. Take it slow. Take a breath and look around you.
This is the time of year when all things start to speed up and all the rush of Christmas (and all the shopping) falls upon us. Rather than get pulled in, I try to embrace the simple and the quiet. I choose not to join the crowds at stores. I choose to be a bit more mindful of what I buy. I want my life to be joy-filled and simple. And especially in this Christmas season, I wish for my focus to be on the reflection of Advent time and what it means to be in waiting before Christ.
Grey shadows scatter on a non-regular morn.
A breeze picks up and shifts the leaves,
and the last droplets tumble down
from an earlier rain, now at ease.
As I wake up, the rain is falling,
coming down from the clouds
and from the north.
A rain that will summon the cold air,
bringing it southward, to body forth.
Welcome to the weather, I say in my head.
You bring good tidings with the seasonal chill.
I am forever always thankful
and delighted by your will.
Your grey sky, autumn, offers in me
all the cosy feelings of a shifting time.
Colder weather will always be
a favourite time of mine.
Sometimes the best way of caring for your soul is to make flexible again some of the views that harden and crystallize in your mind; for these alienate you from your own depth and beauty. Creativity seems to demand flexible and measured tension.
- John O'Donohue
This quote, and the whole of John O'Donohue's writings in his book Anam Cara have been so helpful to me. I struggle to be creative in the way I enjoy the most (writing) when I am distracted. When I struggle with that, I feel like I have less to offer and feel distant from my true core. O'Donohue reminds me that I need to remember to be flexible. My creativity can happen anywhere, even amidst a busy or distracted time. It is important to keep the important times of stillness. At the heart of it, we all need that, but most of us stay busy all the time.
His gentle way of writing nudges me to acknowledge that the world may spin around me, but I can still be able to venture forth into the realm of imagination and creativity. I felt excited just reading that. May these thoughts seep into my mind. The ancient Celtic ways are what O'Donohue introduces into this modern world, and it has been so enlightening, as I peak into the world of Celtic practices. He writes about (just a tiny sampling) the need for solitude, thankfulness in prayer for daily things, harmony between the land and thought, the appreciation of nature and acknowledgement that the natural world is at one with the spiritual. I must have some Celtic core in me, because this all seems so much as I prefer and seek.
We see everything through the lens of thought. The way that you think determines what you will actually discover.
I find myself underlining a lot in this book, partly because it is somehow familiar and I already trust in that truth, and partly because I need that deep truth revealed to me again, and it has hit that spot of my soul that needed the reminding. Some of the pages hold insight from ancient practices and stories that are new to me.
It is lovely to imagine that real divinity is the presence in which all beauty, unity, creativity, darkness and negativity are harmonized.
What a fluid and real reminder that our lives are not just peachy thoughts trying to get noticed out under the sunshine. There is often a darkness present, and a negativity too, but when given over to God, a harmony can be made from all the messy bits we cannot seem to muddle through. Hence, we have frequent bouts of muddy musings. When handed over to God, He can bring beauty out of the mess we are.
I reflect in joy of this reminder, for I feel my thoughts are often so muddled, it is only in God that they can make any sense. Oh, these Celtic viewpoint soothe my soul and cause me to ponder for a while.
In reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like the night sky in the Greek poem, I see with a myriad eyes, but it is still I who see. Here, as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I transcend myself; and am never more myself than when I do.
- C.S. Lewis
Within the cosy respite of my tiny home, I am indulging in hours of reading. Often a continuous train of reading doesn't happen so easily as the distractions of the day or evening pull me to and fro. My faltering is that I let them take me, even though I'd rather let the words on the pages transport me into another world. To read stories is to live in another world without leaving your own. It's magical. You get to curl up in the cosiest spot on the sofa, place a steaming cup of tea on the table in front of you, and enter the world of story.
Within pages you get to see the world (or other worlds) through the eyes of someone else. You get to know other's thoughts, feelings, and emotions. You get to experience it, and yet you aren't leaving your sofa or your own life. The book may come with you wherever you go, so you might be at your desk reading, on the bus reading, or on a plane traveling across an ocean. Wherever you may be, you get to lives within other's lives through the transportation of books.
But why read stories when there are so many other things to do?
Stories require the use of your imagination, even more so if the story relies on a lot of metaphor. Your mind is engaged while reading as it is constantly creating in your imagination what you are reading about (creating the scenes, scenarios, viewpoints, characters, etc), and you are enriching your life with the wisdom gleaned from the stories. You sit above the vantage point of the story as you learn lessons as the characters figure things out.
Keeping your mind engaged and active is a very good thing, and there are many studies that measure the beneficial effects that reading has on our brains.
So, what are you waiting for? Go pick up a good book and read a story!
I was hooked on reading Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. I stayed up late to finish it. I did not expect it to be what it is. It's not a cheerful story in the sense of enjoyment of a nice story. But rather, there are so many themes and questions one can ask/talk about from this story. It reaches into humanity and charges us all with confronting such things. With hints that reflect back to Milton's Paradise Lost, it offers fodder to chew on for a while.
The struggle to be accepted, listened to, valued, and loved is very strong. Who is the monster here? The created being had no control or decision in his creation story, yet his creator has rejected him, left him alone, and spurned. There is the sense of responsibility not taken for the creation made. The emotion, pain, feelings, and suffering is all real, and Frankenstein tries to shove them away, but it all comes back to haunt him by way of his creation.
Frankenstein does not accept the creature for who he was. Why? In his obsession to create the being, he ignored his family, friends, and his own life. He was consumed in the worst ways, but the moment his created being woke up, he fled and felt immediate disgust regarding his creature. Who would feel that about something they worked on for years to create?
As I read this story, I think of the love we have as created beings. God created and loves us so deeply, He said it was good when we were created. He pursues us. He wants to draw us closer to Him in a relationship. All things that Frankenstein does not do.
Are we meant to hold the power of creation in our hands? It becomes a dangerous thing, and we would not do it out of the love unfailing. but we would do it out of selfishly for power, as Frankenstein demonstrates.
Another great literary example of this is C.S. Lewis's That Hideous Strength. There is an example of man creating an immortal being for power and control over others. Animals and humans being the subject of experiment to gain such power. An evil is present there as the pseudo college group takes life apart in order to learn the secrets of putting together to control and gain power.
He that breaks a thing to find what it is has left the path of wisdom.
- J.R.R. Tolkien
We are not perfect, like God, but those who act as though they were a god, seek it with a darker power that will lead them to fall deep into destruction. These stories grip me because they are so applicable today. Frankenstein was published in 1818. Way ahead of her time, Mary Shelley was, and perhaps she had no idea how her story would be applicable 200 years later. We moderns look to other ways to build our creations in the machines we give thoughts to take on the likeness of humans. Is it right for us to do that? Do we diminish our humanness by creating something else that takes on our human traits?
These authors saw something in the way we could make some disastrous choices. They aren't far off, and it's both fascinating and frightening. I think I am drawn to these kinds of books because I like to see the light of how it could be amidst the darkness. I like to see the author's perspective of our human failings and ambitions, and the truth in that. The wisdom that then shines outward is for us to evaluate. These are books that make you think. They ask the deep questions.
A cold, marble table resting in a minimal space,
empty until I hang my bag on the chair I claim.
I rest my journal on the table and soon
it holds my hot latte and my place of thinking
for the next hour.
My journal creaks as I open to a blank page.
My pen in hand moves quickly across the lines.
The coffee cools before I sip.
I reflect in words. They tumble out onto the page,
sometimes not gracefully, and yet, it is in the reflecting
that I find the wonderful peace of letting them go.
Speaking is sometimes hard for me, but words on a page,
they come more easily.
Here, I get to think on the words and let them formulate
cohesive thoughts across pages that can provide
insights I never saw before, but always,
everyday, in the form of thankfulness.
Words form in me, and they spring forth into shapes of thankfulness.
The coffee is perfect to sip now.
Sometimes I forget to sip as I scribble my heart's feelings,
overflowing with love. Love that has been shown to me,
that I do not deserve.
Reminders of God's limitless love lingers.
It ripples through my words, thankful.
It steeps into my soul, thankfulness.
I take a drink of coffee and breathe
in the scent of espresso and thankfulness.
Cold weather makes me so happy. When the weekend graces us with a beautiful, chilly one-day-only event, it only makes sense to get outside as soon as possible, and enjoy the short-lived weather of delight. These are the days that inspire me to get out and about.
I started with coffee, as every good day begins, at Concord Coffee, just a few blocks away. Then, I had to get outside, so I went to Hollis Garden, to walk around. It was a very windy day, and the rustling leaves and chilled air made it feel very autumnal. I eventually sat on my favourite bench to read my current book, The Victorian Age in Literature by G.K. Chesterton. I am really enjoying it. Chesterton is such a breathe of fresh air, like the very day I was enjoying. Every time I sit there at the garden I pay attention to the sounds of the birds, the classical music playing, the wind through the trees, and the children running through the grass. I love the scents: the plants and flowers, and the smell of earth. It felt like the very air I was breathing was just fresh-born. Being in a garden does that to me. It causes me to be present in that very moment, paying attention to sights, sounds, and scents. Then the words usually start to float around in my head.
I stayed at the garden until I was too chilly to hang out on the stone bench any longer, and then I went to the library. A new coffee shop opened inside the library (a second location of the wonderful Black & Brew) so I went there for the first time, getting a sandwich and a turmeric chai latte to warm up.
I kind of felt like I was on holiday. It was so nice. Usually on Saturday, I will start with the coffee shop, but then I do an errand and chores, so it doesn't feel like a break, but this day it felt so nice to spend the whole morning on holiday, breathing in the fresh air of a cheery autumn day.
Who else had dared for thee what I have dared?
I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above;
I not My flesh, I not My spirit spared:
Give thou me love for love.
- Christina Rossetti
I just read through a book of poetry of Christina Rossetti's, a lovely book I picked up in London (at the wonderful Daunt Books) to bring home. So many times, re-reading an author offers new insights, as our viewpoints shift over time. When we read it years ago, in college for example I remember reading "Goblin Market" in English class, we don't glean the wisdom and beauty as we might now. I like the philosophy of reading that C.S. Lewis commented on. That the mark of a good reader is that they re-read books, and don't just read them once. This, of course, is practically impossible, however with good, favourite books, it is possible, and I certainly re-read the best of my library. For there is some new insight gained from our current perspective when you read it again.
These lines of Rossetti's captured me as I read the poem. I had to stop and read them again, and then read the whole poem again. A strong sense of love is clear in the powerful words - dared, plunged, depth, spared. I feel a keen sense of knowing here. A knowledge that is beyond us. A knowledge of the cost of loving us. Jesus is the speaker, and He risks it all to love us. Who else would love undeserving folk who do not understand such perfect love? He did not spare His flesh. He did not spare His spirit, but He yearns for us to love because He first loves us. It is not a forced love, or it would not be true. He came to us from bliss above. I wonder if we forget sometimes that Jesus came to us, leaving the heavenly realm and into the depths, to be next to us in all our struggles. He doesn't seek to rule from above us, but to love us here now, in ways that permeate all moments of our every day.
