The Rabbit Room’s Romantic-Rationalist

September 24, 2011 Leave a comment

Yesterday, a beautiful first day of autumn, I seized a day off from work for a field trip with the rector and some friends from our church. Our group visited the Marion E. Wade Center Center at Wheaton College in Wheaton, IL.

The Wade Center, as the brochure states, “houses a major research collection of writings by and about seven British authors: Owen Barfield, G.K. Chesterton, C.S. Lewis, George MacDonald, Dorothy L. Sayers, J.R.R. Tolkien and Charles Williams…Together they produced more than four hundred books including novels, drama, poetry, fantasy, books for children and Christian works.”

You may be more familiar with two of these writers by the movie versions of  their works:  C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia stories and J.R.R. Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings stories. (It is said that Peter Jackson is currently back working in New Zealand on his film production of Tolkein’s Hobbit story.)

“The Wade center has both a museum (where I saw Lewis’s desk, the handmade wardrobe built by his father (filled with fur coats, btw), Mr. Lewis’ pipe and his pewter ale tankard among many other pieces. There was also J.R.R. Tolkien’s tiny desk where he began writing the manuscript for Hobbit) and the Kilby Reading Room, an area for research and the study of the authors.”

I was very excited to be able to handle a small book offered to me by the Kilby Room archivist. The small book owned by Lewis, which title I cannot presently remember, was on the nature of the Italian civilization. The book bore Lewis’ signature and marginalia! The inscribed book and his desk are the closest I would ever come to C. S. Lewis. Touching the firm reality of those things I felt transcendent as well – a touchstone moment for me.

Information about the Rabbit Room, the Eagle and Child Pub and the Inklings can be found here: click here.

Here is a small excerpt from John Piper’s book Don’t Waste Your Life. This passage relates Piper’s first encounter with C.S. Lewis’ writings. It perfectly describes Lewis as a “romantic-rationalist”: poet-novelist & intellectual apologist, both Upper Story and the Lower Story in one person. It is no wonder I seek to emulate the life of one C.S. (Jack) Lewis!

Here’s the Piper passage about Lewis:

“Someone introduced me to Lewis my freshman year with the book, Mere Christianity. For the next five or six years I was almost never without a Lewis book near at hand. I think that without his influence I would not have lived my life with as much joy or usefulness as I have. There are reasons for this.

He has made me wary of chronological snobbery. That is, he showed me that newness is no virtue and oldness is no vice. Truth and beauty and goodness are not determined by when they exist. Nothing is inferior for being old, and nothing is valu¬able for being modern. This has freed me from the tyranny of novelty and opened for me the wisdom of the ages. To this day I get most of my soul-food from centuries ago. I thank God for Lewis’s compelling demonstration of the obvious.

He demonstrated for me and convinced me that rigorous, precise, penetrating logic is not opposed to deep, soul-stirring feeling and vivid, lively—even playful—imagination. He was a “romantic rationalist.” He combined things that almost every¬body today assumes are mutually exclusive: rationalism and poetry, cool logic and warm feeling, disciplined prose and free imagination. In shattering these old stereotypes, he freed me to think hard and to write poetry, to argue for the resurrection and compose hymns to Christ, to smash an argument and hug a friend, to demand a definition and use a metaphor.

Lewis gave me an intense sense of the “realness” of things. The preciousness of this is hard to communicate. To wake up in the morning and be aware of the firmness of the mattress, the warmth of the sun’s rays, the sound of the clock ticking, the sheer being of things (“quiddity” as he calls it). He helped me become alive to life. He helped me see what is there in the world—things that, if we didn’t have, we would pay a million dollars to have, but having them, ignore. He made me more alive to beauty. He put my soul on notice that there are daily wonders that will waken worship if I open my eyes. He shook my dozing soul and threw the cold water of reality in my face, so that life and God and heaven and hell broke into my world with glory and horror.

He exposed the sophisticated intellectual opposition to objective being and objective value for the naked folly that it was. The philosophical king of my generation had no clothes on, and the writer of children’s books from Oxford had the courage to say so.

You can’t go on “seeing through” things forever. The whole point of seeing through something is to see something through it. It is good that the window should be transparent, because the street or garden beyond it is opaque. How if you saw through the garden too? It is no use trying to “see through” first principles. If you see through everything, then everything is transparent. But a wholly transparent world is an invisible world. To “see through” all things is the same as not to see. (CSL)

Oh, how much more could be said about the world as C. S. Lewis saw it and the way he spoke. He has his flaws, some of them serious. But I will never cease to thank God for this remarkable man who came onto my path at the perfect moment.”

*****

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Where Have All the Bookstores Gone…?

August 5, 2011 Leave a comment

With the closing of the Borders book stores I am fearful that others will follow. I need my tactile book-in-hand fix.  Amazon doesn’t do it for me and neither do the one-dimensional Nooks or E-books. I need the book cover to flirt with me, the inside jacket to draw me in and the inky scent of words to intoxicate me. I always give a book a once-over during the courting process.

For many years now I have regularly shopped for books at my local Barnes & Noble. When I enter the store at 9:00 am every Saturday morning I love to see all the books before me waiting like a massive orchestra for its conductor. I greet each section and then the libretto starts.

On these days you would find me browsing, investigating, brooding and dilly-dallying to my heart’s content. I like the fact that there is nothing ‘E’ about my visit. It is up front and personal.  Mano y mano. I need to wrestle with the pages.

 My Barnes & Noble store stocks DVDs and Music CDs as well as a large assortment of books to choose from. If they shut this store I may need to go on life support due to a binding withdrawal.

http://www.wttw.com/chicagotonight/video/TVss9Rp4wAN0Gy7wtrOnEmDmT4JKKusY/

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Get This Monkey off Our Backs – Just Say No to Debt

July 30, 2011 Leave a comment

 

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Mad Hominem

June 29, 2011 Leave a comment

Barack Hussein Obama or Mr. Strawman Wizard, the shaman of progressive bushwa, wants tax increases to fight the deficit. He says he wants to sacrifice sacred cows.

In fact, Mr. Strawman Wizard says that he doesn’t want our kids to be sacrificed.  He wants the owners of corporate jets to be sacrificed. He wants to do this for the gods of social justice – the class warfare gods. They are not happy campers on Mount Olympus (see the riots in Greece for more information). 

Wow! I wonder if  Michele will have to cancel her next trip out of the country?  (What’s that?  A four on the hole, Mr. Obama?)

(“Gee, Mr Wizard, you could use your one billion dollar campaign fund to help pay off the deficit.” “Peabody, we have millionaires for that.”)

If you don’t know by now, Obama’s demand of the Republicans is the standard, out of the box solution for a Democrat: Raise Taxes (and building casinos). But can you believe it? This is what this most intelligent (we are told) man wants to do:  Raise taxes. This Chicago Whiz Kid Pol has no other plan!

Once again we see the continued attempt to shakedown (called redistribution of wealth by progressives & socialists) the American People through the tax system.

You undoubtedly know that we are in a recession and we have inflation:  gas prices are up, food prices are up and the housing market is in the dumpster.  When was the last time you had a decent pay increase?

Moronic squeeze:  inflation and a tax increase w/malaise to go before I sleep.

 It is way past time to tar, feather and run this witch doctor out on a rail (or, at least put him in the Way Back machine where he can’t sacrifice anybody.)

***********

Milton Friedman:

 “I am favor of cutting taxes under any circumstances and for any excuse, for any reason, whenever it’s possible. “

“Inflation is the one form of taxation that can be imposed without legislation. “

“The government solution to a problem is usually as bad as the problem. “

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Helter Skelter Democracy

June 25, 2011 Leave a comment

Our country is rapidly becoming a place where each person’s life will be dictated by “Democracy” and not by moral objective Truth and righteousness. A majority of voters (many informed only by a salacious media and junk journalism) will tell you how to live, what’s right and wrong and what’s politically correct.  In other words, a democracy built on sand.

On any given day we are quickly told that fairness should rule the day and that fairness trumps everything. Fairness is the anointing oil used by the social justice market-eers. Yet, fairness is not justice and a majority vote is not fairness. And most important of all, fairness is often a compromise of the Truth.  You should know that Jesus, Truth Incarnate, never talked about fairness or wealth redistribution.  But, his disciple Judas did while pocketing some of the donated money for himself. For Judas, it was only fair. Right?

Fairness as a determiner for social justice quickly leads to a demand for equal outcomes. Who decides what is fair? Who pays for equal outcomes? Remember the wise King Solomon ready to slice a baby in two so that each claimant would receive equal outcomes? A fair decision? Yes. A wise decision? No.

As I see it, the more our “Democratic” system of government supplants individual liberties and moral convictions with fairness forcing its will upon us, the more we stand to lose as individuals. Take a hard look at the seemingly benign entitlement like Obamacare. Soon, we will all become a DMV number on a waiting list waiting for the health care that is prescribed (and voted on) by a majority of amoral people.  Having a health insurance card and having access to health care are two very different things.  Wait and see. Obamacare is a hospital of cards.

Or, see how our government is redefining life as we know it. The sanctity of a man-woman marriage is being mocked by the State’s allowance for gay marriage. We are being told that this is only fair. Is it fair to those in a natural marriage ? I refer you to the second paragraph.

And, the State is the using (and defining) ‘quality of a life’ criteria so that abortions can take place. Is abortion fair to the aborted child? We are lost and we’ve lost a sense of right and wrong, a sense of our true selves. A sense of entitlement (our rights) blurs our vision. We seek to create a sense of self based on what is deemed fair and expedient at the moment and not on Rock solid principles of Truth.

As an outcome, in order to survive our character and our moral foundations will be exchanged for a black market ethos. We will sell, buy and trade ourselves to maintain our selves. We are becoming the animals/machines (the Eloi and Morlocks of H. G. Well’s Time Machine) that proponents of naturalism want us to believe that we are. And, if you are a Naturalist and believe that unabated atheism makes you intellectually fulfilled, then take a look at where you are heading. It’s not up the ladder.

If the whims of fairness are the only deciding principles in any situation, what choices do you really have? Only those who are in power will decide what is fair. Soon, you won’t have the liberty to decide. You will have traded it for a bucket of sand labeled fairness.

You will then have to abdicate your beliefs and convictions to be accepted in the ‘fair’ society as politically correct.  Truth, no longer objective, will become what our ‘friends’ let us get away with saying (the philosophy of Richard Rorty).

Finally, a Democracy with moral turpitude won’t get my vote. There’s already a drainage sewer called Europe.

There can be no true enduring Democracy in our land without Objective Truth as the Head Cornerstone and a foundation which is built on the Solid Rock.

******
On another but similar note:

The courageous “Don’t Tread On Me” is becoming the whiny “It’s Not Fair”; Illinois, the Land of Lincoln, is quickly becoming the Land of Lottery.

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Somnambulation

May 20, 2011 Leave a comment

At the first bleep of alarm clock’s tirade my cinema head pops out of the rabbit hole. 3:38 am. I shut off the one-sided conversation and let myself fall back into a nest of pillows. I close my eyes. Inside my eyelids there’s an x-ray showing me the last scene of a dream. Mr. Dream State is looking good until anxiety’s screen saver pops up. Then my heart starts pumping adrenalin to somewhere outside of my body and I get out of bed. In the dark I fumble for the switch I need to start the day.

I head to the kitchen in my underwear. I flip on the TV and turn the volume down with the remote. In the kitchen I grab a pouch of oatmeal and start swinging it back and forth to settle its contents. I blink. Mr Dream State appears for a second. He is sitting in his cube facing pictures of his grandchildren. His wife smiles back from a shelf. I nuke the oatmeal, feed my parrolet Henry and make coffee. I head for the shower where the hot water is blazing hot. I’m the first contestant today. After the shower, a lobster looking woman is seen in a rain-forest video.

In the bedroom I throw on some pants and head for the kitchen for hot coffee and cooled oatmeal. On TV the weatherwoman is talking about wind speeds, precipitation levels and the temperature in May of 1952. I imagine that when I am ninety-two I might like to know those things.

Mr. Dream State shows up on my radar again. He and I are seated watching the weather together. I pour coffee and sip gazing at him on the inside of my eyelids. In my dreams he is always facing away from me. We are looking at the same things.

“Today will be mostly cloudy with a chance of…” It didn’t take long for me to realize that Duffy Adkins weather forecasts were recorded the night before and then replayed while she slept. There were just too many days when the actual weather was plus or minus ten degrees and plus or minus rain. The rain falls on the just and the unjust so I get dressed based on intuition and then suffer the consequences of humidity, wind chill and stormy weather. Isn’t that a song?

Outside my car is waiting for its cue. I crank the engine, turn on the fan and zip out of the parking lot of my apartment building. It will be a good day in Chicago if the weather and intuition hold up.

At the train station I stuff two dollars into the parking fee slot and walk over to the yellow line that divides me from the commuter. I wait. People gather. Gum chewing, smoking, dream people with large coffees and huge handbags. We wait. Soon the cyclopean search light of the train pokes out around the distant curve and heads straight for us. We wait. Clang. Clang. Clang. My head looks for another rabbit hole.

Two conductors get off the train and both say “Good morning.” I say “Good morning.” while my arthritic knee decides if it’s going to move. When it does I find my seat near the door where two women sit juxtaposed. The older one speaks with a hoarse guttural voice to the younger one who chews her gum in rabbit fashion. They know each other. They sit, chew and talk with the two conductors about the Bull’s chances in the playoffs. I read my Bible and then the latest copy of Vanity Fair. Mr. Dream State is sitting next to me reading what I am reading. I see him nod silently, appreciatively.

After an hour and ten minutes of the train’s stop and go lurching we arrive at the downtown station. We are on time today, plus ten minutes. Weather forecasts. Train schedules. Dreams?

I walk five blocks to my building and push the “34” plastic square which needs a push. I am shuttled up to my floor and find my cube as I left it – draped with drawings, spreadsheets and cut sheets. I push aside a set of schematics and place my tote bag in the vacated space. Coffee. I scrounge my purse for a few dollar bills and head back down the elevator to the cafeteria.

Veronica greets me. “Hola, amiga!” “Hola, Veronica.” “Como estas?” “Estoy bien. Y tu?” Bien, gracious.” Veronica hands me a small coffee and I say “Feliz Viernes.” She chirps, “Oh yeah, Feliz Viernes.” I walk the corridor to the elevator. I push “34” sipping black coffee, smelling Mr. Dream State. Notes of Havana.

I get off the elevator and at the receptionist’s desk I can only see the black octopus hair of Flor above the counter. Mr. Dream State used to have black hair but it turned grey. Flor is coughing again. Flor coughs loudly every day. Her sneezes are not for the faint of heart. I say “Good morning, Flor. Happy Friday.” She says “Happy Friday, Jennifer.” and coughs. I worry. My cube is within viral range.

Ahhh. Coffee, email and work to do. Mr. Dream State is happy for me. I smile back at him. Soon I will be in his arms (if he ever turns towards me). I lay out the displaced schematics and dive in.

Noon arrives as usual and I eat my now defrosted leftovers. After lunch I head out of the building for a walk in Millenium Park but Rahm Emmanuel is taking his oath of office under the Pritzker Pavilion so I head toward north toward the river. I walk slowly like the peg-legged woman I see all around. Arthritis is getting it digs at me. Mr. Dream State takes my arm. He’s my right side, my right leg. He is quiet, stable, there for me.

I push “34” thinking of my leg, his leg. I get off the elevator and see the flouncy-bounce of blonde curls called Carol. Carol subs for Flor during the lunch hour. “Hi, Jennifer.” ‘Hi, Carol. How are you?” As I walk past the desk I see that Carol is using a large paper cutter to slice rather small labels. I wince when she tells me that she uses the paper cutter on anyone who does not sign the registration book and then I smile. Mr. Dream State is scary-funny like that.

Back at my desk I read emails and pour over schematics until my eyes hurt and it is four o’clock. I gather my things and head out. On the way to the elevator I say “Have a great weekend, Flor.” Flor smiles her teeth out, takes in big gasp of air, coughs and says, “Have a great weekend, Jennifer.” I flee to the elevator and push”1”.

I walk the five blocks to the train station and I am early. I stand waiting (with Mr. Dream State who’s handsome and serenely confident) and some train buddies, regulars who ride in the same car. At some unknown time driven by some unknown force the big burly black conductor inside the coach turns on the coach car lights and opens the door for us clucking hens. He descends his throne room stairs like the king of Khartoum. He greets his passengers under his heavy breath.

I sit in an upper row of single seats. I begin to float away but arthritis doesn’t let me get too far. I find my place in the magazine and settle back, aching for a massage. Mr. Dream State, the conductor, doesn’t need to see my ticket. He just smiles and lets me ride.

One hour and fifteen minutes later we arrive at Friday night, the weekend and sleeping in. I’ll soon be sucking desire’s thumb and clutching the sateen edge of twilight to my breast. Mr. Dream State will be unrobed. And with him, R.E.M., just a few blocks from here.

© Sally Paradise, 2011, All Rights Reserved

*******

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The Osaminator: Guns Not (Waterboarding)Hoses!

May 9, 2011 Leave a comment

The leader of the free world takes his best shot.

Click here for more details on the 11/2012 release:

Legal Insurrection Films Presents –

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Dietrich Bonhoeffer & Religion-less Christianity

April 21, 2011 Leave a comment

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What Can You Say About the Nature of Man?

April 15, 2011 Leave a comment

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Driftless By Design

April 3, 2011 Leave a comment

When John gave her the ring he hoped that marriage would follow soon after. It did. Mary said yes. His unspoken question was answered with her unspoken assent on the same day. She simply nestled her head against his neck in silent agreement. They were married in June of that year, 1957.

The couple spent much of their time together in nature. There were yearly camping trips to lakes, mountains and forests. Twilight and sunrise often shared the light of their campfires. By way of nature’s vast expanse, the couple became closer. For them, there was never a thought of sitting in front of the television set night after night, pining for something more. They chose what they wanted: the panoply of the natural world; the broad-shouldered earth.

Wisconsin’s Governor Dodge State Park became the site of an annual destination for the couple. The state park, located only three and a half hours from their home, is demarcated in southwestern Wisconsin. It lies within driftless area of the Upper Mississippi River Basin. The Mississippi, Chippewa, Kickapoo and Black rivers flow through this area, dissecting the uneven landscape and forcing the weaving of man-made roads.

The park offers two lakes: Cox Hollow and Twin Valley Lakes. The couple’s favorite campsite, near Cox Hollow Lake, is nestled among oaks, white pines and hickory trees. Through a clearing at the edge of their campsite the couple viewed a gently sloping field blanketed with goldenrod and sunflowers. At one time Mary told John that the Monarch butterflies that silently fluttered among this dappled setting were faeries. John told Mary that the Hummingbirds that hovered in their camp sought only the sweetest of nectars – his Mary.

The road trip to Governor Dodge was easy. The ride became a time to talk about nothing and about everything, a means to embrace the other. As was their way, they would pack on Thursday evening. Then, On Friday morning they would drive up in hopes of getting their favored spot before the weekend campers arrived.

When they arrived at Governor Dodge they paid their campsite fee, found their site and unpacked the car. Everything would be in its place within an hour. They prepared well.

Their first afternoon was usually spent sitting on the grassy hillside looking down on the sandy beach of Cox Hollow Lake. The scattered oak trees blocked the high afternoon sun, while a cool lake breeze ascended up the hill. These surroundings made it easy for John and Mary to nap, even though children whooped and wailed when splashed with lake water. Later in the afternoon the air would become filled with the cacophony of weekend visitors greeting each other.

When dinner time came around John and Mary had cooking down pat: Coleman stove, cast iron skillet, freshly caught walleye fried in butter with tear-prompting onions and brought-from-home herbs sizzling alongside. Dessert was an ice cream bar bought at the camp store just up the hill from the lake. And, a cup of Thermos coffee.

The undiluted sprawling sky above Governor Dodge State Park provided the couple with an open air observatory. At night they would drive out to an isolated ridge road that passed through an open field. They would park in the grass, get out and sit on the hood of their car. It seemed to them that the darkened heavens published dot-to-dot pictures: Ursa Major with its asterism The Big Dipper affixing north.

John and Mary would trace the points of light with their fingers. Occasionally, the celestial array of distant lights became cloaked by screeching bat swarms flying in high speed pursuit of blood thirsty mosquitoes. Mary liked the bats, but only for this reason.

After midnight, the couple would return to their campsite. They would make one final inspection of their food storage. They knew that robbing raccoons were on the prowl. When they were both ready, they quickly entered their tent hoping to keep the uneaten mosquitoes on the outside with the bats. Once inside, they replayed their favorite memory.

© Sally Paradise, 2011, All Rights Reserved

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