"People get from books the idea that if you have married the right person you may expect to go on 'being in love' for ever . . . In this department of life, as in every other, thrills come at the beginning and do not last. The sort of thrill that a boy has at the first idea of flying will not go on when he has joined the R.A.F. and is really learning to fly. The thrill you feel on seeing some delightful place dies away when you really go to live there. Does this mean it would be better not to learn to fly and not to live in the beautiful place? By no means. In both cases, if you go through with it, the dying away of the first thrill will be compensated for by a quieter and more lasting kind of interest. What is more (and I can hardly find words to tell you how important I think this), it is just the people who are ready to submit to the loss of the thrill and settle down to sober interest, who are then most likely to meet new thrills in some quite different direction."
C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
I don't have it handy, but in Gaudy Night, Dorothy Sayers has a variation on this theme: It is the people who snatch at things, especially love, who, in actuality, do not know what they want and will never attain happiness, let alone love or joy. I read this passage in Lewis and have not been able to shake it from my mind, constantly turning over people I know, some who are so very dear to me, who are unable or at least unwilling to submit to the loss of the initial thrill and so flit from one thing to another, trying to maintain that level of living that is impossible and unfulfilling, both. I have been thinking of it in my own life, too, of the loss of that sort of intense, blinding, world-shattering love and accepting a much quieter, more peaceful sort of love. At times I nearly despised myself for it, thinking I was "settling" or "giving in," but it is neither of those things. Huge conflagrations die out--sometimes immediately, sometimes after burning for days or weeks or months or even years. They take too much to maintain. They are too big for themselves. And, more often than not, they are destructive. It is the hearth fire that can burn for years, that provides heat and warmth without consuming everything in its vicinity, that can be maintained and used and enjoyed in the actual living of life. It is the hearth fire, too, that gives the sort of light that one needs to enjoy and explore the new "thrills." When faced with the forest fire, one has no capacity for looking at other things--the fire dominates.
Applied to pleasure in general: Consider for a moment the sorts of things that modern media encourages. It is all about finding the "thrill," about moving from one experience to another, without cohesion or understanding or even necessarily enjoyment--anything to keep from growing bored, to keep from seeing emptiness. For snatching at thrills, whether in art, love, food, music, or anything else, is in fact nothing more than the desperate attempt to hide one's one emptiness, futility and despair.
24 February 2011
17 February 2011
city mouse and country mouse
my whole life, more or less, i have wanted LAND. space. quiet. peace to come dropping slow with crickets and linnets' wings. i am finding myself in the disconcerting position of questioning this, however, adn am not quite sure what to make of it--or myself.
country mouse says: fool, of course you want land! and horses and chickens and a big garden and maybe a goat. stars at night, and clean fresh air. no road noise, or grease-dive smells, or factories or trains or sirens. no neighbors peering around every corner or strangers walking down the street swearing on their cell phones.
city mouse responds: yes, have all that . . . and nothing else. no community. no friends around the corner or a few blocks away. a 20 minute drive to everything, everywhere. random, isolated neighbors, or a close-knit community that doesn't readily welcome strangers. what about walking to the local butcher shop, coffee shop, book shop, violin shop? a five minute, one mile walk to Church, which it's hard enough to get motivated for, anyway? adding who knows how long to husband's commute, further lessening his time with home and family, further increasing stress, requiring another car?
for, truth be told (as if it were not painfully obvious), neither ryan nor i make friends easily, and i worry already about being too isolated, spending days holed up--yes, with fresh air and kiddos and animals, but without *people*. i have come to appreciate so greatly the importance of being surrounded by community, both religious and local. truth be told, the sort of farming community, or even country community, is rarely possible. some are lucky enough to be raised in it, in which case they have inherited it; a very few are lucky enough to be able to create it. clearly the former is not an option and, as of now, neither is the latter. which leaves--please, God, at least a decent yard and an old house!
country mouse says: fool, of course you want land! and horses and chickens and a big garden and maybe a goat. stars at night, and clean fresh air. no road noise, or grease-dive smells, or factories or trains or sirens. no neighbors peering around every corner or strangers walking down the street swearing on their cell phones.
city mouse responds: yes, have all that . . . and nothing else. no community. no friends around the corner or a few blocks away. a 20 minute drive to everything, everywhere. random, isolated neighbors, or a close-knit community that doesn't readily welcome strangers. what about walking to the local butcher shop, coffee shop, book shop, violin shop? a five minute, one mile walk to Church, which it's hard enough to get motivated for, anyway? adding who knows how long to husband's commute, further lessening his time with home and family, further increasing stress, requiring another car?
for, truth be told (as if it were not painfully obvious), neither ryan nor i make friends easily, and i worry already about being too isolated, spending days holed up--yes, with fresh air and kiddos and animals, but without *people*. i have come to appreciate so greatly the importance of being surrounded by community, both religious and local. truth be told, the sort of farming community, or even country community, is rarely possible. some are lucky enough to be raised in it, in which case they have inherited it; a very few are lucky enough to be able to create it. clearly the former is not an option and, as of now, neither is the latter. which leaves--please, God, at least a decent yard and an old house!
03 February 2011
an update for T
we are continuing the arduous process known commonly as "settling in" . . . unpacked more boxes today; now all that is left are some pictures to hang and some books for which to acquire another shelf. progress, indeed! we are having our first company on saturday: a momentus occasion, and i am worried about my desire for as near-perfect presentation as possible colliding with my severe physical limitations. of course, in this case, the body must needs win.
i found a ballet studio that i want to inquire more closely into. it is within walking distance. in fact, finn and i walked by it the other day; i mosied into the building, trying to seem oh-so-nonchalant, but when i saw that the studio is on the FOURTH floor, i looked at my todder, my stroller, and my belly, and retreated. maybe in a few months. although, i am certain that regular dance would help everything, and so am trying to compensate (and maintain my balance) my doing at least a few plies and stretches at home. i won't tell you how often i am able to accomplish that very simple (and helpful) goal.
today, i spent quite a bit of time running errands and cleaning house, with the end result of having nothing for dinner when my darling husband came home. FAIL stamped itself in large letters across the front of my forehead. thank God, my husband, my dearest one, is such a kind and gracious man. we ordered pizza with pancakes for Finn and all was well. still, i cannot at all shake the conviction that my priorities were slightly disordered. on the other hand, pleading again those aforementioned physical limitations . . .
this babe will be here in a few weeks. not months, but weeks. i am not quite sure what to do about that. it seems a far, far more daunting task than i can think about preparing for adequately. heck, i can't even think about it without shrinking into denial. not even the desire to have my body and waist back urge me towards over-eager anticipation. i am scared. there it is, in black and white, and i'll keep admitting it.
9:00 = Pumpkin Time: I am one tired momma. in closing:
this week, overall, has been fairly mundane, neither good nor bad, better or worse than usual. in the not unpleasant monotony, however, i have found myself enjoying the company of my son. he's great! funny, helpful (usually), easy to please (most of the time), and so excited to explore the world and life in general. everything is exciting, and his joy gives me such pleasure. and if he's a bit difficult when tired, i am the last person with any room for impatience in that regard! but what a novel thing. i don't remember hearing about this too often: that one's children, even now, when the demands still often outweigh the giving, our children can be *chums*.
i found a ballet studio that i want to inquire more closely into. it is within walking distance. in fact, finn and i walked by it the other day; i mosied into the building, trying to seem oh-so-nonchalant, but when i saw that the studio is on the FOURTH floor, i looked at my todder, my stroller, and my belly, and retreated. maybe in a few months. although, i am certain that regular dance would help everything, and so am trying to compensate (and maintain my balance) my doing at least a few plies and stretches at home. i won't tell you how often i am able to accomplish that very simple (and helpful) goal.
today, i spent quite a bit of time running errands and cleaning house, with the end result of having nothing for dinner when my darling husband came home. FAIL stamped itself in large letters across the front of my forehead. thank God, my husband, my dearest one, is such a kind and gracious man. we ordered pizza with pancakes for Finn and all was well. still, i cannot at all shake the conviction that my priorities were slightly disordered. on the other hand, pleading again those aforementioned physical limitations . . .
this babe will be here in a few weeks. not months, but weeks. i am not quite sure what to do about that. it seems a far, far more daunting task than i can think about preparing for adequately. heck, i can't even think about it without shrinking into denial. not even the desire to have my body and waist back urge me towards over-eager anticipation. i am scared. there it is, in black and white, and i'll keep admitting it.
9:00 = Pumpkin Time: I am one tired momma. in closing:
this week, overall, has been fairly mundane, neither good nor bad, better or worse than usual. in the not unpleasant monotony, however, i have found myself enjoying the company of my son. he's great! funny, helpful (usually), easy to please (most of the time), and so excited to explore the world and life in general. everything is exciting, and his joy gives me such pleasure. and if he's a bit difficult when tired, i am the last person with any room for impatience in that regard! but what a novel thing. i don't remember hearing about this too often: that one's children, even now, when the demands still often outweigh the giving, our children can be *chums*.
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