Posts Tagged C.S. Lewis

My Cracks In the Sidewalk

“I encounter people when I walk on the street now who give me sort of a sad look.  I have had more fortune than anybody I know.  And if our next gig is doing a show in a 7-Eleven Parking lot we will find a way to make it fine.  We really will.  I have no problems.  And, I don’t want to do it on a 7-Eleven parking lot.  (Audience laughs)  But whatever, uh… And all I ask is one thing…and this is…I’m asking this particularly of young people that watch…please do not be cynical.  I hate cynicism. For the record, it’s my least favorite quality.  It doesn’t lead anywhere.  Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get.  But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen.  I’m telling you.  Amazing things will happen.”

- Conan O’Brien (from his goodbye speech on the Tonight Show)

I feel for Conan. Although I am extremely impressed with Conan’s words and thoughts, there is no doubt in my mind how hard this must be for him: to have reached his dream only to have it ripped from him so rapidly.  How different the world must look.  The color, fascination, and excitement that comes with living a dream quickly transforms into dull tones of grey.  No matter how easy it must be to say cynicism is the enemy, it’s never quite so easy the next day.  I’m sure Conan will never be labeled a cynic but no doubt the next couple weeks cynicism will feel much like a best friend to ‘ole CoCo.  All of that being said Conan’s goodbye has me thinking more about my own goodbyes, about my own tendencies toward cynicism, my own inability to walk away from my dreams.

I’m reminded of my cousin’s kid, Ethan, on his birthday this last year.  He immediately became infatuated with one of his gifts, a toy vaccum cleaner.  He really went at it, he vacuumed every inch of that room, probably 3 or 4 times and still there was no sign that he was ever going to quit.  The time had come to show him and his twin sister their big playhouse, that no doubt took hours for my cousin to put together and here Ethan is still vacuuming the living room.  So here comes Mom, she picks up little Ethan who almost instantly begins violently kicking and screaming, it was obvious he did not want to be pulled away from that vacuum cleaner.  He didn’t care where he was going or what was going to come next, he wanted to cry and scream, to grieve and lament that former moment in the living room with the vacuum cleaner.

I can’t help but question where, on a scale between Conan’s reaction and Ethan’s, my reactions fall.  Maybe if I were more of a seasoned writer, like Conan I would have said the right thing and let the dream go, like a mature adult should but if I’m going to be honest here Id’ have to admit I relate much more to Ethan and his story and reaction.  I, too, like Conan, have become to hate cynicism but sometimes I wonder if its not as inevitable as cracks in a sidewalk.  Life hurts, time often takes away more than it gives.  I’m only 26 years old, I have many more goodbye ahead of me in this life maybe someday I’ll be able to handle it as graciously as Conan, with what C.S Lewis called “excellent absurdity“.

“But to thank God for the “excellent absurdity” which enables us to play great parts without pride and little ones without dejection, rejecting nothing through false modesty which is only another form of pride, and never when we occupy for a moment the centre of the stage, forgetting that the play would have gone off just as well without us…” - C.S. Lewis

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Love Is Never Indifferent

Love, in it’s own nature, demands the perfecting of the beloved; that the mere ‘kindness’ which tolerates anything except suffering in its object is, in that respect, at the opposite pole from Love.  When we fall in love with a woman, do we cease to care whether she is clean or dirty, fair or foul?  Does any woman regard it as a sign of love in a man that he neither knows nor cares how she is looking?  Love may, indeed love the beloved when her beauty is lost; but not because it is lost.  Love may forgive all infirmities and love still in spite of them:  but love cannot cease to will their removal.  Love is more sensitive than hatred itself to every blemish in the beloved… Of all powers he (Love) forgives most, but he condones least: he is pleased with little, but demands all.”

- C.S. Lewis (The Problem of Pain)

What I love about this small little paragraph is that within this simple observation lies the very reason why “true” love for each other will always endure.  Time and trouble will always seperate those who truly love from those who don’t.

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The Intolerable Compliment

We are, not metaphorically but in very truth, a Divine work of art, something God is making and therefore something with which He will not be satisfied until it has a certian character… over the great picture of his life- the work which he loves, as intensely as a man loves a woman or a mother a child- He will take endless trouble… In the same way, it is natural for us to wish that God designed for us a less glorious and less arduous destiny; but then we are wishing not for more love but less.

- C.S. Lewis (The Problem of Pain)

Leave it to Lewis to phrase pain and turmoil in such a beautiful fashion.  How amazing to think that our character, our whole person, who we are, and whatever it is we become is all very important to the God who gives the universe it’s life and motion on a constant basis.  I always find myself asking over and over “Why keep holding on?  Why endure through all the crap that comes this way?”  And here, in this resplendent paragragh C.S. Lewis points a mirror right into my soul and reveals the truth that lies within.  And with the daily death of myself I place my life in the hands of the most creative and talented entity the universe has ever experienced, which forces me to realize that deep down somewhere I actually believe, trust, and hope that everything will work out and when all is said and done, my life will have meant something to someone.  Do I still find the frustration and the hurt of relationships and friendship intolerable at times?  I can answer that with a very certain, solemn, and confident… Absolutely! But I live my life with hope that one day as God scrapes, washes, corrects, re-paints, and changes me that my life will matter, somehow; in someway.  And the pain is not because God has left me or hates me but because he loves me as his beloved.

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Til’ We Have Faces (Book Review)

It should be known that I find it very difficult to find adequate words to describe what I think about someone else’s writing, which is why I seldom do book reviews on any of the books I’ve read.  That being said, it should be easy for one to assume that since I’m sitting down now and trying to write a book review, it must be because I have found a book that has reached me in ways that I just simply can’t imagine choosing not to express them.

Til’ We Have Faces – C.S. Lewis

A painfully beautiful story straight out of Greek folklore, wonderfully re-painted and crafted by the author of such amazing books as the Chronicles of Narnia and The Great Divorce, and yet this book will probably remain my favorite of all Lewis’ tales.  Lewis takes an interesting approach to the telling of the story of Psyche and Cupid, he chose Psyche’s ugly older sister (Orual) as the narrator of the story.  As she begins her story it becomes clear that Orual is laying out her case against the gods, leading the reader to be the judge as to whether the gods have been just. Many times I found her constant state of self pity, her constant thought toward her own pain, and blatant disregard for the pain of the people around her to be almost intolerable.  I actually find myself afraid to type to much about the book because I don’t want to ruin any part of it, but I will say that the transformation that takes place with Orual  by the end of the book is the most beautiful conversion from dark to light I think I’ve ever experienced in a fiction book. At the end, we all discover that the final word isn’t spoken “til’ we have faces.”

On a more personal note, this book did to me what would be expected of some divine surgeon pulling me apart to remove some horrible tumor, and then carefully piecing me back together.  I come out better, different, but almost in a daze.  Almost like my soul has been completely renovated.

“I begin to think you know nothing of love?”  – Those words sent a shiver through my entire being as if those words had been spoken straight at me.  And really, if I’m honest with myself, as I look back those words had come through my ears before in many ways and yet none of them were heard or comprehended, until now.

The “love” I have known most recently within myself had been used in the same manner as a tyrant would use a sword, as a weapon used to extract what I selfishly believed I deserved or even just to get what I desired out of the relationships around me.  Phrases begin to haunt me at night, phrases from my past; phrases from my mouth, the like of which the lowest most repulsive men would find unbearable to live with. Statements birthed from manipulation, guilt, and fear. The book continues to push in further piercing my entire being as it continues:  “A love like that can grow to be nine-tenths hatred and still call itself love.”  What had my love become except the very definition of hatred.  The constant action of securing for myself my own selfish desires in a way that paralyzes the very person I claim to care about.  It reminds me of something the fox said apologetically to Orual, “I was wrong to weep and beg and try to force you by your love.  Love is not a thing to be so used.”  To turn someone’s love against them as a weapon of manipulation is nothing less than nine-tenths hatred.  I hope those to which I have treated this way will forgive me for I am truly sorry.

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Perspective of the Week 1.06.08

“Of coarse the whole thing is a kind of make believe or fancy dress ball. Not only official greatness, as of kings or judges, but what we call real greatness, the greatness of Shakespeare, Erasmus, and Montaigne, is from a certain point illusory. What then? But to thank God for the “excellent absurdity” which enables us to play great parts without pride and little ones without dejection, rejecting nothing through false modesty which is only another form of pride, and never when we occupy for a moment the centre of the stage, forgetting that the play would have gone off just as well without us… This is the spirit which ought to govern even the smallest and most temporary assumptions of the higher place; whenever we forgive or permit or teach we should be aware of the “excellent absurdity” but none the less step obediently into our position, assured that if we are some day to come where saints cast down their golden crowns we must here be content both to assume for ourselves and to honour in others crowns of paper and tinsel, most worthy of tender laughter but not of hostile contempt.”
- C.S. Lewis

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