Quite Magic After All
It really is a magical world.
I don't know how to explain, but beauty hurts, like a physical ache. At the same time... Elaine Scarry says that beauty is a greeting. I'm inclined to agree with her.
Have you ever ached with gladness over a greeting?
This last day or two at home, I feel as though the world has been newly dyed for me, or made somehow more alive and present. Immediate. I was reading in my sister's room a few minutes ago, and she put on a CD by George Winston. Winston's instrument is the piano; I have found that contact between myself and a well-played piano has a melting effect on the former; it was like delight made audial.
But it is not only the piano music. It is the soft green-gold carpet in our library. It is the pleasure of discussing statehood and state history with Grandpa over dishes. It is finding out that Alaska and Hawaii both became states in the 1950's. It is the mellow bong of Mama's grandfather clock. My toes are eager for garden dirt. My fingers positively enjoy thorn pricks in the course of pulling weeds. I cannot get enough of singing with Marjorie and Charity.
Of course, I have been about the business of packing. Trips to the bank, the library, and Staples, have been accomplished today. Two suitcases are packed. Tonight or tomorrow I must apply myself to the agony of sorting books--how can I leave any of them behind?--and papers. But I am not at PHC in my mind, and have not been all week. I verily believe that I shall not return to the mental world of school until it is inevitable that I do so... probably sometime around midnight on Sunday. I find myself blocking it out, willing it hence, pushing it away. I don't want to go back.
How can I be homesick already? Very easily--but I am also returning to the heart of worship. I spent extended time with the Lord this morning, and I think that I shall be calm when the inevitable arrives. Calm, perhaps a little grave--my friends must not expect much gaiety from me during the first week or so--and, I hope, purposeful. There is a great deal that MUST be accomplished in the semester upcoming, and I am sure--God being God--that I only know the quarter of it.
The world is magic now, and I will not worry for tomorrow. God will still be God tomorrow.
I don't know how to explain, but beauty hurts, like a physical ache. At the same time... Elaine Scarry says that beauty is a greeting. I'm inclined to agree with her.
Have you ever ached with gladness over a greeting?
This last day or two at home, I feel as though the world has been newly dyed for me, or made somehow more alive and present. Immediate. I was reading in my sister's room a few minutes ago, and she put on a CD by George Winston. Winston's instrument is the piano; I have found that contact between myself and a well-played piano has a melting effect on the former; it was like delight made audial.
But it is not only the piano music. It is the soft green-gold carpet in our library. It is the pleasure of discussing statehood and state history with Grandpa over dishes. It is finding out that Alaska and Hawaii both became states in the 1950's. It is the mellow bong of Mama's grandfather clock. My toes are eager for garden dirt. My fingers positively enjoy thorn pricks in the course of pulling weeds. I cannot get enough of singing with Marjorie and Charity.
Of course, I have been about the business of packing. Trips to the bank, the library, and Staples, have been accomplished today. Two suitcases are packed. Tonight or tomorrow I must apply myself to the agony of sorting books--how can I leave any of them behind?--and papers. But I am not at PHC in my mind, and have not been all week. I verily believe that I shall not return to the mental world of school until it is inevitable that I do so... probably sometime around midnight on Sunday. I find myself blocking it out, willing it hence, pushing it away. I don't want to go back.
How can I be homesick already? Very easily--but I am also returning to the heart of worship. I spent extended time with the Lord this morning, and I think that I shall be calm when the inevitable arrives. Calm, perhaps a little grave--my friends must not expect much gaiety from me during the first week or so--and, I hope, purposeful. There is a great deal that MUST be accomplished in the semester upcoming, and I am sure--God being God--that I only know the quarter of it.
The world is magic now, and I will not worry for tomorrow. God will still be God tomorrow.
posted by Praelucor at 8:01 PM
1 Comments:
I am at Ashlea's now. I felt much the same as you yesterday. All through packing, I felt like I was going to burst into tears. My little sisters hugged me whenever they saw me, and I thought, this is so nice and calm. How can I leave and go back to the stress? I have to say, though, your call made me feel a lot better. I am definitely grave myself, but I think I will be jolly, at least on the outside, by the time I get to PHC.
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