Christmas - The Answer to the Riddles

 

God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.

1 Corinthians 1:28-29

Christmas can be so commercialized and focused on the gifts and the selfish wants. The emphasis is so engrained in us we barely notice it. Something missing is the humility and joy of simplicity of Christmas. We may have in our minds the scene  - a neatly tucked baby in a bed of hay. Gentle goats and sheep surrounding the bed. Mary calm and peaceful. Joseph standing assertively, watching keenly. Whether Jesus was in a bed of hay or a blow up air mattress, it was a humble beginning.

That is the point.

There is more joy to be had in the simple, humble things of life. It does not need to be filled with frills and luxury. Yet we have made that an essential piece, and it tends to make things more complicated. Our earthly perspective has done so. Jesus shows us our views are quite tilted, in fact, upside down from that of the heavenly realm. What we deem important in this earthly life is sometimes not what matters eternally. There is something deeper He wants us to see, but we have to be willing to clear our vision of the worldly things and the hold they have on us.

It is difficult to clear our vision because we know the story so well.

Let's look at an alternate view to freshen our Christmas views - Merry Christmas!

The Man Born to be King, by Dorothy L. Sayers
Play-cycle Published 1943

Caspar: Alas! the more we know, the less we understand life. Doubts make us afraid to act, and much learning dries the heart. And the riddle that torments the world is this: Shall Wisdom and Love live together at last, when the promised Kingdom comes?

Melchior: We are rulers, and we see that what men need most is good government, with freedom and order. But order puts fetters on freedom, and freedom rebels against order, so that love and power are always at war together. And the riddle that torments the world is this: Shall Power and Love dwell together at last, when the promised Kingdom comes?

Balthazar: I speak for a sorrowful people - for the ignorant and the poor. We rise up to labour and lie down to sleep, and night is only a pause between one burden and another. Fear is our daily companion - the fear of want, the fear of war, the fear of cruel death, and of still more cruel life. But all this we could bear if we knew that we did not suffer in vain; that God was beside us in the struggle, sharing the miseries of His own world. For the riddle that torments the world is this: Shall Sorrow and Love be reconciled at last, when the promised Kingdom comes?

Mary: These are very difficult questions - but with me, you see, it is like this. When the Angel's message came to me, the Lord put a song in my heart. I suddenly saw that wealth and cleverness were nothing to God - no one is too unimportant to be His friend. That was the thought that came to me, because of the thing that happened to me. I am quite humbly born, yet the Power of God came upon me; very foolish and unlearned, yet the Word of God was spoken to me; and I was in deep distress, when by Baby was born and filled my life with love. So I know very well that Wisdom and Power and Sorrow can live together with Love; and for me, the Child in my arms is the answer to all the riddles.

On Discipleship

 

Why is discipleship important?

- We do not know it all

- We forget what we think we know

- We have blind spots in our modernity (read the old books!)

- We have the power to influence and encourage others to grow

Therefore, we always need to be learning, studying, growing, and following what it means to be walking along the path of our lives with Christ.

Christ calls us, not to go with the flow of the world and conform to its ways, as it shifts in culture, but instead Christ calls us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds, and to be counter-cultural in living a paradox of the Christian life, different from what the world says we should be.

Blessed are the poor in spirit...
Blessed are the meek...
Blessed are the pure in heart...
Blessed are the merciful...
Blessed are those persecuted for righteousness sake... 
Etc...
(Matthew 5)

If we are living according to this world, we are missing a very essential piece - we are putting a veil over our eyes to the heavenly, and becoming fixed on the earthly.

Jesus says in John 3.12 - 
If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you heavenly things?

Jesus, then, is seeking to remove the film of familiarity and selfish solicitude, to borrow phrases from poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, to reveal the deep heavenly truths that are covered up by the things we get so comfortable with on earth. These comforts cause a spiritual laziness.

Why is this important, though?

Since the Enlightenment, our world has been seeking to separate all the imaginative creative ways of viewing the world and the heavenly realm from all the real serious studies of science and intellect. This bifurcation is false, but so much of what is taught and studied focuses only on the intellect:

    Step 1 - Do this
    Step 2 - Follow that
    Step 3 - Solution is proved

The problem:

It lacks any mystery.

It lacks a study of beauty in the godly sense.

It misses the imagination.

It leaves no room for questions and musings.

That is where I feel the role of discipleship can come in. If we are to grow and encourage others with Christ in the transformation and renewal of the mind --

The mind includes - 
    Intellect and Imagination

This is not either/or but a both/and.

G.K. Chesterton wrote -
We need to be happy in this wonderland without once being merely comfortable.

I see discipleship as an opportunity to encourage others to explore in deeper ways, to step out of ones own views and into the eyes of other older wisdom that has much to share. To embrace an active imaginative life, picturesque and full of poetical curiosity, something humans seem to desire.

In this and every Advent season, let us embrace the imagination to see the story of the birth of Jesus with new eyes. As if going on a journey and coming around the world to the same place but with a whole new set of eyes as if seeing the story for the first time.

Tales of Christmas

 

There seems a magic in the very name of Christmas....Would that Christmas lasted the whole year through, and that the prejudices and passions which deform our better nature were never called into action among those to whom, at least, they should ever be strangers.

"Christmas Festivities" by Charles Dickens

Charles Dickens is synonymous in everyone's mind with the tale of A Christmas Carol, but he also wrote other tales of ghostly Christmas explorations and inter-relationships amongst people with themes of morals, want and greed, human feelings amidst suffering. If one considers the time period in which he wrote (London in the 1840s) when the moral and ethical views of a culture had slid sideways into a selfish indulgence seeking independence of self and enlightenment from the religious views, the idea of selfless giving and the spirit of Christmas was not a widespread acceptable notion of the time. Dickens's writing are important because they introduce such ideas and stories that foster a change in the human spirit, which has continued through generations to us today.

I have been curling up with Dickens each night to explore this world he creates in his stories, mixing paradox, delight, terror, and deception set in a rather dreary reality in order to (in his words) "awaken some loving and forbearing thoughts, never out of season in a Christian land."

There is something about Christmas time that opens our hearts to the lives of others - but it all moves by so swiftly and we sometimes miss the chance to truly embrace why we celebrate it. We attend events, concerts, meetings, parties, dinners. We exchange gifts with friends, family, and give to other in various ways in the community. Often in our modern times we are so consumed with activity we rarely have time to actually ponder the meaning and beauty of the Advent season and then it's gone and a whole new year quickly takes over with getting back to it.

I am no expert in this practice, but I am trying to embrace a slower season, looking into the deeper meaning of the aspects of Christmas we tend to gloss over. Reading good books that offer wisdom far greater than my own is what helps me get into the true spirit of Christmas. Sure, there are other ways to get into the commercial spirit - you know - shopping for gifts, wrapping gifts, and listening to Christmas music. While those things help me think of others and let me recall a favourite tune to hum they are not generally reaching into that deep spot in the soul in need of the truths offered by the gift of Jesus. That is where the true soul shaping and deep meaning takes root and establishes its place of residence, so the spirit of Christmas never does go out of season. 

Southern Savannah Autumn / Winter

I travelled north, to the south. Can one travel in a paradox?

Southern Savannah - Strolling the sun-dappled sweet streets oozing with southern charm on the days betwixt Autumn and Winter was pure delight. The leaf-laden sidewalks lead me to all the places I needed on a short holiday - to coffee shops and bookshops. What else is necessary? Okay, restaurants/cafes as well. I will grant you that - and good food is to be found. It all felt like magic to me. Something about getting away, especially in these last two years, has felt like a pure treat. A treasure to behold. I love being home, but I also love travelling. It is the double-sided coin for me.

Though all these places are familiar to me, and have seen my presence in the last year, I still felt a keen sense of wonder, as if seeing it all for the first time. Mum of course, hadn't been to Savannah to explore in many many years. We could not really remember when it was, and these places we went were not on the agenda back then. We had a most luxuriously leisurely Thanksgiving dinner at the hotel restaurant, the 1540 Room, which we would recommend. Delicious food prepared by the new chef there. I got to eat at my favourite vegan restaurant, The Fox & Fig, and have coffee at my favourite coffee shop, Mirabelle. Best of all, I got to do some book shopping at both E. Shaver's Booksellers and The Book Lady Bookstore. All the while, walking to each place along the Autumnal verging into Winter (and Christmas decorations!) squares and historic streets.

The mornings were cold, around 37 - 40 degrees. And I was all giddy to have a taste of Winter (to me) whilst gazing admirably at the multi-hued leaves hanging loftily from many trees, with some piles of leafy colour on the ground. It was a lovely mixture of Autumn and Winter holding hands in the same days. I love the display of seasons. I love the way nature shines with all the beauty it is given, as God created it all with flourish of imagination. It is just being itself, and it is glorious. And a wonder-filled way to begin the holiday season, with the start of Advent.

Autumn Bordering Winter

 

Autumn Bordering Winter

Oh let them fall
All the leaves all
Falling, papery thin
Hues of myriad I saw
Whilst in a state of awe
I watch them fall
With a half-floating tilt
They tip their tiny hats
As they gracefully glide
For a wistful moment, slide,
Slice, and saw, through air.

A nature show for all
That display of beauty in colour
Short-lived and transient
Soothing a salty temperament
As reminders of a seasonal glow
Worth lingering moments to know
Such secrets of nature, a clear call
To gather every one and all
To a conference of the leaves
Before bordering winter as it may please
Comes swiftly like a wind
Can we see it all again? 
Once the dancing leaves fall
They do not look back at all.

Special thanks to the leaves of Savannah, Georgia this last week for their display of beauty and colour. To allow my feet to shuffle amidst them and see their late season glory. It was a gift to my Autumn loving, chilly weather needing soul.

What Does Thankful Look Like?

 

The sky is streaked with windswept brushstrokes in a monotone grey. The air is calm, but above our heads the chilly air moves with speed. My body feels the cold, and I am thankful for the sweater that warms my arms. I look around and appreciate how the greyish, subdued morning light awakens different scenes of the day. The leaves on the trees have a muted, autumnal hue. The reflection on the lake is like glass, revealing another world on the other side of the water's surface in my imagination.

A few days later, an opposite scene greets me with a blue-hued sky reflecting in a blue tinted lake. Not one wisp of cloud dots the perfectly smooth sky. The air feels warmer. A slight breeze dances over the lake water and the green leaves are vibrant.

Both days I was filled with a thankful heart. Much as I prefer the grey scale sky because it is more interesting to me, I look at each day and appreciate what it is giving me. It is a gift I can choose to enjoy. It is not about circumstance - it's a posture of the heart. No matter what the day looks like I can choose to let thankfulness blanket my soul. 

Both/And not Either/Or

In 1 Thessalonians 5:18 we are reminded to - 

... give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

These photos were taken just a few days apart on my way to work. I am blessed to have this view every single day. Something I love is how it looks different every morning. Whether by the light cast down from the sky, by the wind chopping up some waves, by the wildlife (swans, geese, ducks, pelicans), and by the activity of people who are walking or taking some quiet time. 

As we celebrate a time of Thanksgiving in our American culture, it might be different from recent years. Families might be scattered, travel might look different, it might be quieter than usual. But our lives are different so we are still dealing with what that looks like. My hope is that we will all be able to be thankful in all circumstances, even amidst the strangeness, because I believe that is the way to see the goodness of God in every day and to foster a thankful heart.

You're So Medieval

 

"When overdone, true virtue wanes.
Indulgence, surplus & excess
do not equate to more, but less,
& what goes on relentlessly
infuriates eventually."
The only everlasting good
is found within the realm of God:
its basket constantly provides
yet stays replenished to all sides.
God's wondrous empire knows no end,
forever giving, never spent.

- Lines 350-362

A narrator overhears an owl and a nightingale debating in the trees. They speak as if they are human, which is never explained in the poem, and other than referencing some bird-specific aspects and characteristics, they could be any two humans having a debate at a coffee shop. Within these lines I heard two humans disagreeing and differing in their ideas on morality, personality, habits, and particular ways of living. Two different cultures or personalities.

The dating of this poem is not fully determined. Somewhere between 1189 and 1279 is the range. The author is unknown, though the original poem mentions Master Nicholas of Guildford, who is the person of sound judgement in the poem. This would traditionally be the author (Simon Armitage, the poet laureate and translator of the original in this new version, cleverly inserts himself into this translation as the person of sound judgement). Even the location is unclear (somewhere in southern or southwest England?)

Why do I appreciate the translations that Simon Armitage has done? He makes Middle English Medieval poems approachable and able to be discussed in our modern day. We do not have to be a scholar to discuss the themes and topics being addressed in the poems he has translated (yes, translated from English to English - but can you understand all the nuances and obscure words of Middle English?).

Something else I enjoy is even though it is a translation, and not Simon's original poem, his translation adds his own personality into the verbiage, and I can hear his poetic voice in these lines. I really enjoy these Medieval poems translated so we can explore them today. This is a poem so Medieval and yet now so easy to read and enjoy with modern minds.

But what is the purpose or meaning of the poem? It is unclear, and yet I sense that these two different creatures who cannot seem to understand one another or agree on anything is a pathway for us to see how we should be willing to listen to others who do not share our beliefs and practices, or who have different personalities, to be able to practice good listening and empathy with one another, even amidst debate. Maybe there are things an owl can learn from a nightingale and vice versa? Maybe they will stop arguing one day and see that.

Bookstack

 

And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused...

- William Wordsworth

What books have you been reading this autumn?

If I tried to hold all the books I have read, my arm would be crushed.

Keeping with my goal of reading a new classic each month (a classic I have never read), I am also intertwining poetry and mystery at the same time. This is just a little stack of the books I have recently finished, books that have continued to stay in my mind since closing the cover on the last page.

My poetry book lately has been the collaboration of Wordsworth and Coleridge in their Lyrical Ballads, published first in 1798, which is a bit of an oxymoron, as something lyrical being emotional and a ballad being structured and storytelling. And yet their revolutionary poetry established the romantic poetry of the 1800s incorporating emotion and feeling through nature and story. This collection was the start of a shift in English poetry, with many other poets to come along following their pen marks.

On the theme of poetry, Simon Armitage's collected Oxford lectures, that he gave whilst he was the professor of poetry (a 4 year term), are a thoughtful, expanding meditation on poetry in the modern view, using the old and new to fuse into the generative environment we have now. I always enjoy reading or listening to Simon's thoughts on poetry and our modern age.

Murder mysteries in the spirit of the golden age of mysteries (Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers) are always appealing to me. Such books from the 1920's - 1950's are dubbed cosy murder mysteries, which may seem contradicting, but I totally get it. What is cosy about murder? It is about getting lost in a case, losing yourself in solving that mystery, and in some sense they are fantasy books because the murder and the situation is so fantastical it is an escape from the everyday. I've always liked solving mysteries and finding clues along the way. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd was such a good murder mystery with a general classic look at first glance, but one that throws people way off at the end. The Devil and the Dark Water was written in this kind of tradition of mystery, but written today with a modern voice. This story takes on a historical aspect as well, taking place in the 1640s. 

My classic of the month was The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy. It was my $1 find at a library sale a few months ago. I had not read any books by Hardy yet, and I will say his prose descriptions on nature and people is beautiful, yet his characters are set-up for doom. There is a sense of futility of life and the mishaps and bad decisions made over time will catch-up to you. When I felt some hope of a character looking to redeem their past, they would turn back like a magnet, setting up their future doom. There were so many instances of wanting the characters to choose differently, which reminds me that every choice we make will impact our future (good or ill, loving or cruel). That is a realistic thought to meditate on - consequence.

He rose the morrow morn

 He went, like one that hath been stunn'd 

And is of sense forlorn:

A sadder and a wiser man

He rose the morrow morn.

- Samuel Taylor Coleridge

To be reflective and meditative is to give yourself the space to grow into wisdom. The air of melancholy may accompany such depths, but is not always linked to be a replica of the word, depressed, but it can hold a sadness that lingers because of story, life, the world. We can feel the sadness in the state of our planet, our divisive culture, the negative views/actions of others, and the changes it all may cause which will shape our future.

We can grow in wisdom and feel melancholic about it as it can be a sobering experience. We can dwell there to process through it all. In my mind, I always need to let my thoughts walk around. It is not that we look for a state of melancholy, but it comes to find us, and when it does, it can be a catalyst for development and creativity. Many of the best poets and writers wrote when feeling downcast. I myself have done the same, and if I have been able to embrace what it is, that part of the experience of being human, my words come flowing from a deeper, more meaningful place.

Upon hearing a tale of lesson and loss, like the ancient mariner in the quote above (from that marvelous poem "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"), one can walk away grateful, wiser, and melancholy all the same, feeling like one just dipped into a tale much bigger than themselves.

When we see things are much more complex than just our own struggles, a sense of thoughtful melancholy can sweep over the atmosphere, not because one is sad, but because the state out of control of the big things and the little influence we have. But we can choose to do good in even the small ways we have at our fingertips.

If you are interested in this topic, I will be exploring it more. I have been diving into the new exhibit (and hope to visit in person) at the Bodleian Library on The Anatomy of Melancholy, the 400 year old book written by Robert Burton. 

Almost Autumn

 

We are in the 'almost autumn atmosphere'. A time caught in the anticipation of cool breezes and shortening days. You may wish for longer days again, where the sun shines late into the dusk hours. But lessened light gives me anchors of hope for the coming seasons. 

Whispers rustle amongst the branches outside my window that cooler air is soon to arrive. Even recently the gentle morning air reveals the hushed tones - the leaves noting a change in hue pondering ‘will it come’? Like a secret to be revealed, holding on the edge of anticipation until it comes.

I awaken every morning with the hope that a swift chill swept in overnight and suddenly I will need to don a sweater, but alas, not yet. Do you hang onto the months of jolly sunshine and rainy afternoons? It reminds me of the need we have for seasons - to have a cyclical reminder which comes around every year that change comes like tides of the seas - a rise and fall natural to our world yet continuing on without consulting the calendar. 

Do we ever give much thought as to why seasons are beneficial for us? From a contentedness standpoint, seasons help us appreciate the time of year we love the most, by experiencing its opposite. I gush endlessly about Autumn and Winter because it is the opposite of Summer. I write more poems that are drawn out by the colder seasons because they inspire me and it is a change from what it was for so long. 

I remember when I was a child in elementary school the thrill of feeling the season change. Suddenly I was sent off to school with a little jacket or sweater, and I did not fully understand why because sometimes it was not cold to me (children never feel that cold, do they?) but it thrilled me all the same because something was changing in the air. Even in Florida we felt a shift, albeit subtle, and then suddenly we will get a welcomed swoop of chilly air. I have many memories of heading off to school with a sweater and feeling so very happy about it because it felt special and different. It held an element of mystery and wonder to me.

And I still feel the same. I guess we are all still children in the core of our hearts, aren't we?

October Books

 

Tis the season for all the mysterious vibes, the cosy candles, the long walks along leaf-strewn paths, and the feeling of change in the air. Even if I am mostly pretending until the weather cooperates. One must be patient for the lovely gifts of the autumn season to come. This is by no means an exhaustive list of books I have read this month, but a few that I have finished recently.

Dracula by Bram Stoker

This is a classic I had never read, and I thought it was time, especially as October started. I decided to set a task to read a classic each month that I haven't read before. If you have any recommendations I would love to hear them! Dracula is an interesting tale, well known to some extent, but reading it at last I understand what happens in the story - how Count Dracula is visited in his castle deep in Transylvania by an English attorney, Jonathan Harker, who learns the dark secrets of Dracula over his long stay. Back in England, something strange happens in London and Whitby. A strange presence emerges. Dracula has come over to England. His first victim is close to Jonathan Harker and his wife Mina. But who is going to stop him?

Walking the Invisible by Michael Stewart

A new book released that I immediately wanted to get, following the various walks and locations associated with the Brontë family. They were known for their long walks through the moors and windy landscapes of rugged beauty and danger. I love to learn about all things related to the Brontë family. Each of the siblings had their own talents in writing, and learning about their home, their landscape, and all the things that inspired them is key to understanding and appreciating their books and poems in the best way. It would be so fun to walk some of these paths outlined in the book to feel immersed in the minds of the Brontës - there is much that has not changed since their time in the early 1800s. 

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie

What an interesting case taken on by Hercule Poirot. He is taken away from his "retirement" and gardening in a small English village, to solve the case of Roger Ackroyd's murder. As usual, there are many suspects to investigate, and Poirot is always a few steps ahead of us in knowing things. Of course, using his little grey cells in his brain, he sees much more than we do at the surface. When everything seems like it is clear, when all evidence points to one particular person, it cannot be that simple. And it's not.

David's Crown: Sounding the Psalms by Malcolm Guite

Malcolm wrote a reflective poem based on each Psalm, set in a poetic style of a corona, meaning the circular nature is the last line of each poem is the first line in the next poem. I have been reading this collection for a couple months, and just finished it. Usually I read two poems each morning with my coffee and journaling (sometimes more). I admire his poetry so much (as well as his talks, YouTube videos, and books), as he has the gift of language that is accessible in today's modern world, yet it draws on all the old ways of writing poetry - sticking to the meter and structure which actually opens the capacity of the reader in ways free verse never could. He is certainly one of the most talented poets alive today.

Selador Available in Pressed Books & Coffee!

 

Am I dreaming? I am living in a surreal moment - my books are now available on the bookshelves of the cute local independent bookshop downtown, Pressed Books & Coffee! I hope that my books are having fun hanging out with the other books as they wait to be picked up.

I am beyond grateful to the lovely owner, Christina, who was excited to stock my books. This feels so undeserved, honestly. My tiny writings get to share the shelves with all these wonderful books? 

The goal of a writer, of course is to share their writing with the world, but it is a somewhat scary thing to do. Like an artist, something creative involves a lot of personal effort and work. It is something close and dear to the heart of the creator, and to see if out there rides the line of excitement and nerves.

If you are local, please go visit Pressed Books & Coffee. It is a lovely little shop stocking new releases, paperbacks, children's, teens, business, non-fiction, used books, gifts, and they have a coffee/tea bar serving all kinds of coffees (lavender latte is my current go-to) and teas, as well as fresh baked goods. In each section they have "Lkld Local" for all the local authors who have books. It's such a delight to see it - as they are unique and cannot be found in other bookshops!

If you are not local and would like to purchase my books, they are available on Amazon HERE and HERE.

Autumnal Strange Unearthly Longings

 

In the hills on autumn evenings when
We seem to hear the horns of elfland blowing
And strange unearthly longings draw us in.

- Malcolm Guite (from a poetic reflection on Psalm 67)

The breezy winds are coming in from far away places, rustling the leaves that cling to the branches. Rainy season has left behind a slight feeling that there is a change in the air, however slow it may be, it is coming. It is drawing us in with the voice of the north wind.

These invoking words and images of faerie lands forlorn and places where the elf may dwell leave me aching for that which is deeper, more alive, more awakened to itself. Maybe that seems in opposition of the autumn season as the leaves fall to the ground leaving bare branches and after harvests are reaped the grasses change their bright hues to a toned down hay. But this is exactly what awakens in me the wonders. This kind of seasonal shift resonates with me in fostering more awareness of the imaginary, the inspiring, the myth and legend. This kind of feeling arises best where there are glimpses of where faerie might dwell. The thin places in this world that link to another place. It seems more possible as the land shifts and the trees change. There might be uncovered or revealed some ancient path or stone walkway that could not be seen before. Where does it lead?

Perhaps my imagination is getting carried away, or perhaps not. Maybe that is what we need from time to time. To lose ourselves in a story or myth. To be immersed in something bigger than ourselves, reminding us that even in the everyday there is a bit of magic that can be discovered. I am looking forward to these days ahead.

On Writing in Books

 

Squiggles.
Arrows.
Marks.
Underlines.
Writing.
In books.

Does the idea make you shudder? 
Or does it invoke interest and engagement?

I like to think that when we read we are in a kind of dialogue with the author. We are reading their thoughts, their story, and ideas, and sometimes I want to talk with them in the margins. I might agree and just add a note, or link it to something else I read. I might disagree, and write a counter point.

Or I might underline or mark a paragraph that I will invariably return to later. It makes it easier to find. I so often flip through books to re-read or just dip into, re-visiting my favourite passages to ponder or consider again. 

An example - Many people have asked me over the years why I do not just check out books at the library. That is a very simple answer with many layers. Because I cannot revisit them later whenever I get a sudden recollection of a passage, essay, or book I want to re-read. Because I cannot write in library books. Because I like to be able to sit at my desk and be reminded of a passage, stand up, search my bookshelves, and pull out the C.S. Lewis or Owen Barfield book I was thinking about (I literally just did this today). I will flip through that book and find the passage I marked 10 years earlier (and maybe re-read some sections). I do this so very often, it is the most natural thing in the world to me. This is why my home is a library. It always will be.

All these things are engaging with the book, the ideas, the author's perspective, and remembering what I read to a deeper degree because all of this causes me to slow down in my reading. Rather than speeding through a book, if I am writing in it, or even just underlining, I am reading more thoughtfully and slowly. Thereby retaining the information much more than a quick read would. It also means I will likely return to it again later, setting it to dwell even more deeply into my psyche. 

Side note - I know many people like to keep their books pristine, but to that I ask, why? Unless you want to re-sell them? I don't. For most of us, our books will not be kept in a museum, and if they are, it will likely be of interest to whoever reviews your books what you wrote in them and how you engaged with the books. What I would do to be able to browse through the library of C.S. Lewis to see what he wrote in his books. To me, it would be interesting to see what he thought as he read. J.R.R. Tolkien wrote and doodled on his everyday crossword pages (I know that's not books), which are now kept at the Bodleian Library and have been put on display in an exhibit to show his creative energies.

For even more engagement with books, I write out favourite quotes in my journal and commonplace book. But that is a digression as this is a musing about writing in the books themselves, to which I think I made my meandering point.

... And in the dark, still hours

 

...And in the dark, still hours, the world is soft and calm. The memories float like lofty clouds above yet within. The interior self is aloft in the sky with all the images of time, set into no line of a straight steady sense, but freely floating around the memories as the imagination takes the wind. There floats today's memory of 2009 both sad with loss and sweet with remembrance, as if it were last year, a short time ago. A time comes now in memory of the dark, sadness when the loss of Dad became a sudden, swift reality that filled us all with sorrow. But the memories now float freely detached from a particular moment or timeline as time is no longer necessarily in any straight line. It is just always. 

It is always there, sometimes close and poignant when the winds blow it near when some date or specific memory draws it. Sometimes it seems like something distant, but it never departs. Always held in the steady skies of God-created memory for our humanness to encounter. For deep utter loss is part of being human. And my mind can go so naturally towards it not because I try to, but because it is stamped in me, and these memories are always there. The winds just blow them this way at this time, for remembrance, deeply set in thankfulness for him.

Sleepy Musings

 

The weekend comes swiftly, almost sneaking up on me. I go to bed on Friday and suddenly it is there a moment later when I wake up. Isn't it strange how we have no concept of time as we sleep? Eight hours passes by and we have no feeling of that time as we slip into an unconscious state that leaves us totally lost in time. I wonder why and how we dream of wild, timeless spaces and almost unimaginable scenes that seem like they are from a fantasy or myth. Are we able to reach those levels of mysteriousness because we give up our consciousness? Then, we wake up forgetting it all. We do, after all, almost always forget our dreams upon waking.

It is fascinating to think about because the question of why we dream makes me wonder about God's intent when he created us and our ability to dream. It's not something we did, God gave us that ability. What an interesting thing to think about.

What should we do with our dreams, whether we can or cannot remember them? Dreams are sometimes used through Scripture stories of God speaking some important message to people through dreams. But how would we know if a dream is a message from God? I suppose there might be a strong, clear feeling. Similar to the idea of angels among us, how do we know?

It requires of us belief and faith that what God created was good, imagination to see the spiritual realm dwelling in our physical realm, and the open mind to the heavenly. If we shut ourselves off and say that the material world is all there is, we lose so much of creation that is not fixed to the material world. That person lives in a world of despair because the material world will diminish, pass away, wither, fade. But we long for more than that. We sense we are made for more than that.

Since we have that longing that cannot be satisfied here, therefore, as C.S. Lewis concluded in Mere Christianity we must be made for another world. If we view this all as a sort of training ground, it won't seem so bad here, but it leads to the better place where we really belong and were made for.

All these words came along because I was waking and wondering about dreams. I think I am just fascinated by the mind and the imagination. Our world and the spiritual world collide more often than we notice. They are features of being human that sets us apart from other living things. It is astonishing that God has gifted us these abilities, meaning we are not automatons who just rotate through tasks because it is innately given to us to follow. 

We have choice, and we occupy time creating things with the talents we have and imagining and wondering about things that are beyond us. 

I absorb books and ideas like a dry sponge. Yet I also have a keen desire to create. We all do, in our own ways. We just have to find out what gift is within each of us to create. Mine is words - stories, poems, word pictures, musings. I cannot stop that desire in me. It is always there.

Picking up Philosophical Crumbs

 

Let us call him a saviour, because he liberates the learner from his bondage, saves him from himself; a deliverer, because he delivers from bondage one who has bound himself, and no one is so terribly bound, and no bondage so impossible to escape, as that in which the individual places himself!

- Philosophical Crumbs, Søren Kierkegaard

I believe as a Christian I am called to follow in the more difficult way; the path that may not be the most popular. The more challenging it becomes the more I realize it is what Jesus taught when his footsteps clapped the sandy desert. It transcends thought and experience. He did not promise it would be easy to follow Him. But He is the Light and He is the Way. He promises to lead us. If we look deeply enough (we tend not to, as remaining at the shallow end seems more safe) we will develop the capacity to link into aesthetic and ethical insights whilst working through the challenges of being a Christian.

Kierkegaard was a genius, and his writings showcase his immense, deeply complex insights he pondered over as he intertwined Christian and Socratic intuitions and institutions. He had the talent of writing about it in a poetic, philosophical way. I feel muddled often as I read his words, as if my brain is running hard to keep up with his thoughts, but I always grasp something at the end of the section (crumbs?) which I ponder over for weeks/months/years to come.

Christians have to unlearn those accumulated interpretations that make Christianity all-too familiar, a matter of simple socialization from the cradle to the grave. Christianity has to be made strange. (from the introduction).

How eagerly I dip my toes into philosophy with Kierkegaard as my guide. He sets up the road into the strange land, and I read page after page like one entering a garden lush and overwhelming one cannot take it all in at once, picking up his crumbs along the way. His linking of the Socratic thinking with Christianity reminds me to look deeply into all things to find God's fingerprints. And in this passage I am moved by the simplicity of the paradoxical image he provokes of sitting with God in a posture of peace and conversation with each of us.

And the situation of the understanding, how precarious it is, poised at every moment at the edge of misunderstanding as the anxieties of guilt threaten the peace of love; how terrifying, because it is less terrifying to fall prostrate while the mountains tremble at the voice of the god, than to sit with him as with an equal, and yet it is precisely the god's desire to sit this way. (Philosophical Crumbs)

Drizzling Thoughts on Toast

 

Drizzling my thoughts like honey on toast. A long weekend awakens in me the desire and ability to get lost in between hundreds of pages. You might find me flipping page 59 over a bite of toast, and page 80 over the final sip of coffee. I take big bites of books, given the time. No nibbles here and there. But big chunks. Then, I sit back and think as my imagination expands beyond the walls of my tiny home. I live in no tiny space -- I live amongst the fantastical worlds and faraway places in all the books on my shelves. It is ever-expanding.

How glorious to get lost in books. One is never bored, and one is never merely entertained. Books require thinking and imagining. Creating the scenes inside your own mind whilst examining thoughts around the author's meaning-filled words. One is not a mere reader on the sidelines, but an active participant in the values of the words. Are they material and moral? Judging for yourself in your own conscious. Placing oneself into the story to gain perspective and ponder the view as the story progresses.

You can expect that an idea or perspective very different from your own will pop onto the page, and you will left to deal with it. You will be able to chew on it, weigh it, muse upon it. These are gifts that books can give us - we learn more about ourselves by reading. 

Piranesi

 

The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite.

- Piranesi

The world needs more books like this. If I could, I would give a copy to everyone to read. And then a discussion would ensue, because this book warrants talking about. You cannot read it and not want to talk with someone about it. It is easily my top book of 2020. I already read it a second time a few months ago, and it made me love it even more.

I mentioned reading it in a previous post, but it really needs its own dedicated appreciation post, which I have been meaning to do for awhile. If you have not read it yet, I hope this will get your curiosity heightened enough to go get it!

I cannot say too much about the story without giving things away. I would not want to spoil a reading for anyone, because part of the deep enjoyment is discovering along the way, so I will keep it pretty general. 

Piranesi lives in a house, a huge infinite house that takes care of him. He loves the house, and knows that it provides food and shelter for him. He keeps busy every day by writing in his journal keeping track of the tides that rush through the different halls of the house. He explores the house, numbering all the halls and their details, he notes all the statues in the halls, he fishes down in the lower halls where the waters are always abundant. But he is mostly all alone. Isolated. Except one other man, whom he meets with once a week, called the Other. The Other has Piranesi working on projects and collecting data for him as he tries to figure out the secrets of the house. 

Susanna Clarke is a master author. She is one of the best in our modern day in my opinion. Every word, every sentence has deep thought behind it. Even the use of capital letters is very intentional. There is nothing frivolous about her writing. It has meaning. She pulls from past authors and myths and makes a tale all her own, yet leaving crumbs along the way that I love picking up. In this book, she is pulling many ideas, mainly from The Magician's Nephew, by C.S. Lewis, Saving the Appearances, by Owen Barfield, and short stories from Labyrinths, by Jorge Luis Borges. 

Piranesi thinks the best of what he is given, using everything the house provides. He appreciates the little things. He stands in awe of the albatross that flies into one of the halls (I hear lovely echoes of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader). He takes care of the bones of the dead he finds in the house. He finds meaning in everything. This idea stems from Owen Barfield's ideas on participation and how in human history we used to think that everything had meaning. We have lost that meaning (we no longer participate in the world in that sense) in our modern culture. Things are now just objects to be studied and taken apart to find out how they work (to learn their secrets), rather than appreciating and finding meaning in how they were made. This bifurcation of meaning and purpose in the world we live in is the difference between Piranesi and the Other. 

The house itself is an infinite labyrinth, and Piranesi lives there alone, seemingly. He doesn't think it is menacing, but he knows there are dangers and takes precautions, such as when the tides will collide and cause a massive flood. There are other dangers he did not prepare for that soon come, and when the Other starts to warn him, he tries to solve the puzzle. Some questions I began to ask myself - How does being alone affect him? Why does the Other only see him once a week? Is the house good?

I love this book so much. It explores many themes that provoke deeper thinking and discussion on choices we make, why we make them, how we relate to the world around us, how an antidote to alienation is kindness,  how we are beckoned into reality through sadness and great loss, how we can hold up a lantern of light against the darkness and see the good even amidst the evil of the world. 

Book Shop Dreams

 

Once upon a time I dreamed there would be an independent book shop in town. It was a dream that spanned many years, and it never came. Through college and beyond, I waited patiently for 10+ years. It never came. 

Until now!

A few days after Pressed opened, I had to drop in one evening to browse for the first time in a little independent book shop in my town, a few minutes away from my home. My heart soared at the prospect. Ideas flashed through my head of meeting here with friends and family. Of having a little bookclub here. Of getting a coffee and sitting down to read a new book.

It looks small, you say. Sure, the shelves are not full and the selection is limited, but it is a book shop! It is a celebration of all things bookish! It promotes reading! Open the door and the scent of coffee and books greets you with all the possibility of cosiness, which is the best thing in my opinion. Browse the different sections and delight in that. There is plenty of seating - tables and chairs, sofas, etc.

This is a massive accomplishment for the bookish. I have fiercely advocated for a book shop here, in my quiet and patient way of telling friends and acquaintances, whilst at the the same time harboring a dream of having my own book shop one day (only in my dreams, really), all the while holding onto the hope that one day this city would reach a level of bookishness that adhered to the guidelines of requirement to open an independent book shop. 

Here we are, rendering the requirements met, and I hope that it sticks around with great success, filling up these shelves with more books as more people realize the joy of reading. Maybe they will even have to add more shelves for more books!  

I am just so glad you are here, Pressed!

Cultivate Self-Learning

 Cultivate self-learning. 

When I first started reading Dante's Divine Comedy many years ago (10+ years), I had no real knowledge of what it was about (other than the basic journey through hell, purgatory, and into paradise), and much of it went over my head. I had purchased a used copy of all three books in one in a used bookshop in Providence, Rhode Island on a visit there after college. I knew it was a book I should read at some point, so I read it. It sat there in my heart lingering with images and questions. Then a year or two ago I picked it up again to start to re-read all of Dante's Divine Comedy. This time I read Dorothy L. Sayers's translation and I listened to talks about it and read books on Dante along the way. My understanding and depth of reading since those years after college reached a deep appreciation and I caught more references, but still miss so many. 

And yet...the more I read the more I saw how reading this text from the 1300's connected with my life in a myriad of ways everywhere I turned. Dante showed up in the other books I read, he was discussed by my favourite writers, and his Divine Comedy was creeping into the tight spaces between lines of stories I had never seen before.

It is true that one book leads to another. This happens to me constantly. It is a thing of beauty I could never set-up myself.

Ask the deep questions and then read to find out more. Watch talks/lectures, listen and hear ideas. Ponder and keep reading. Let your own discovering guide you. God is there too, and soon you realize what you hear along the way is reflections of His own voice through echoes of others in their study and writing. A deeper truth is being portrayed. 

Be patient with it. Reflect and let the truth indicate itself.

Read the books that challenge you. They are usually older, more nuanced, more detailed (sometimes they feel like a paradox I know), and they are worked out with intelligence, heart, and grace. If something offered is as simple as a 1, 2, 3 step procedure, be skeptical. 

Do not expect an immediate answer. Sit with the questions and then live them. 

Look for the wisdom and the context in which the words are being written or spoken. You will find more answers as you go along in your self-study than you even knew you were asking about. That is the marvel of reading.