All quiet on the northeastern front...

Our landlord had some updates to do on our apartment, so we had to "clear out of dodge" for a few days.  Hence, I'm also clearing out of here for a few days, since we're visiting family and hopefully doing some vacation-y mini-family stuff as well (or as best as can be done, with a 1 year old).

In the meantime, though, I'll leave you with another L'Engle quote that I've been pondering today.  But first, a very abbreviated background of *why* I'm thinking about all these quotes about writing, and who we are, and what we are meant for...

Before college, I wanted to write, and did write, often.  I filled journals with thoughts, I wrote poetry and short stories, and I turned to the fictional friends of my right hand - Emily, Anne, Vicky, & Meg - to help me feel my way through the angst of adolescence.  In college, I wrote term papers, and received good grades, along with lots of encouragement from my professors; I also privately wrote my way through some heartbreaks that were pivotal to forming the person I am today.  I went to graduate school for a brief stint, taught English as a T.A., dropped out due to the complete misery of being too far from family, friends, and my boyfriend (now husband), but kept writing.  After college, I finally published a handful of meditations in a magazine and a few poems, but life got in the way - a whirlwind of engagement, marriage, and new baby temporarily ceased the flow of words, and only recently have I started to put pen to paper again.  But I'm trying to listen to that renewed impulse, which is part of what this blog is about.... and so I'm also reading again, all my favorite authors who taught me that story can show the way to truth, and reading some of those authors (like L'Engle's) own thoughts on writing as well.  So for all of you who have that same creative impulse burning inside - perhaps her words will resonate with you today as well.

"My husband is my most ruthless critic. ... Sometimes he will say, 'It's been said better before.' Of course. It's all been said better before. If I thought I had to say it better than anyone else, I'd never start. Better or worse is immaterial. The thing is that it has to be said; by me; ontologically. We each have to say it, to say it in our own way. Not of our own will, but as it comes through us. Good or bad, great or little: that isn't what human creation is about. It is that we have to try; to put it down in pigment, or words, or musical notations, or we die." L'Engle, A Circle of Quiet

Now - back to quiet I go.  But before I do - a big thank you, to my blog friends, for listening to my attempts to work writing back into my daily life :)

Tuesday ponderings

Today, during a scrumptious LW naptime (complete with tea, a blanket, and a book), I was re-reading Madeleine L'Engle's The Rock That is Higher for the first time in awhile, and the following quote really struck me, so I thought I would share.

"C.S. Lewis points out that our roots are really elsewhere.  True.  But we do not get to that elsewhere except through our journey in this life on this planet.  While we are here we must put down roots so that we will not be uprooted by a passing storm.  The roots may reach down through earthly life to 'elsewhere,' but they have to go through the earth and our life on the earth before getting to 'elsewhere.'  What else does the Incarnation affirm?  Jesus came not to deny life, but to offer life, and life more abundant.  We are not to retreat from life, pinning our hopes on 'elsewhere,' but to know that we will come to that final destination best by living here and now, be it through joy, or pain, or a mix of both."

At the same time, she also acknowledges that

"we are not homesick so much for something that was, and was lost, as for something that will be, and is to be found." 

After LW's nap was over, the paradox of these thoughts kept coming back to me.  How to live in the world, but not of the world, but also to fully realize our humanity in the here and now?  I don't have the answers, and neither did L'Engle (which is part of what I love about her, and why I retreat to her stories when I am confused, or need to try to sort out something that my rational mind cannot solve or see a way through).  I think the answer lies more in the realm of intuition, of faith, of love... and while I don't understand, and didn't come to any profound life altering realization, I did play with my daughter.  And I saw how much sheer joy she finds in discovery, in accomplishment, in little things that I have long since taken for granted and stopped noticing.  I'm not going to say that little children are "humanity as it is supposed to be," for there is certainly much in little children that must mature, and be grown out of, and much work for grace to do.  But there is also something wonderful in little children that we lose as we get older - wonder, and tangible, touchable human-ness, the human-ness not afraid to play, pray, explore, try, believe.  Somehow, I think that it is that sort of living in this world that L'Engle is talking about - not the living in this world that the consumerist culture would advocate (i.e. "live it up!  buy this, that and the other thing; have your affairs, your flings, your high-profile corporate job, your exotic vacations and clothing and car"), nor necessarily even the living that is taking your mind to its highest potential through degrees and scholarly pursuits - but the living that happens, day to day, in the humdrum.  The living that really is loving, connecting, finding out who you are and who others are, and serving each other on this journey.

Anyway, my brain is tired after a long day, so not sure if any of this makes sense... just what's been on my mind today.  I highly recommend L'Engle's book (or any of them, actually) anyway - much good food for thought there.  I don't always agree with her on "facts" but the spirit of what she is saying always resonates deep within, and has that inimitable ring of truth to it.