I had the most interesting conversation with a dear, elderly friend recently. Every time I do, it makes me lament even more how our culture doesn’t value the wisdom of the elderly. There are times when I truly grieve over stories lost forever.
We talked about the fear of man…
the fear of God…
the misunderstanding of the fear of God and how radically it is exacerbated by the growing fear of other humans, the context being, that we believe humans were created in God’s image.
The astonishing kindness of anonymous bloggers, their anonymity injecting poignancy straight into my veins.
I told him about the phenomenon of hikikomori which fascinated him, but he immediately responded with words straight from his mature, listening heart, ‘no wonder people are afraid of God. We are forever doomed to create him in our image…’ or something to that affect. Ugh, my awful memory does not do him justice.
And this post does not do this issue justice. but I want to get in the habit of writing more regularly so this will have to do for now.
It’s been a word on my mind for years. Well, not the word, actually. Because I don’t speak Portuguese. (And in case you don’t either: saudade)
But we all know its colours and its scents and its sounds. We all know where to go to find its vividestness. Perhaps, some kind of closet…
(And we all wish it were a word in English, because, I mean, Saudade!)
One of the things I love about CS Lewis…he can take a heartwrenching word like this one and give it resolution. Not by his own invention of course, but in his descriptions of Christ realities – whether he’s taking itto another heavenly/”far-off country”/Christ longing level in the Narnia series, (hidden in a closet, no less) …or in brilliant descriptions like this one The inconsolable secret.
I so love the word. I’d love to honour it in a poem. But I can’t. I’ve tried. I blame it on everything but my writing skills. And the experts tell us that if you try and it’s too hard, then you should give up… um, is this decaf?
Besides, as much as I love the truth in negative spaces, and torturing myself with it… I much prefer what Lewis has done…you know, reminding us of what Christ has done, is doing, will do: the consolable longing…
(*Note to self: I seriously need to learn another language… *Note to you: I may still attempt the poem…just as a warm-up, there is this: nepenthe of nepenthes)