Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Evocation of Oxford

Seeking a world within a realm
Within a globe, made all of glass
Summoned, provoked by sleep
Beauty gazes steadily back
Eyes of knowing, a mouth that would speak
Half-hidden by the fog grey mask
Oh, to see clearly
To smash the glass and hear the snowy
crunch beneath forbidden feet
The only sound in perfect silence
Then light is real, illuminating
The veil changes, shifts and ages
Threadbare but still there
And much remains conceiled.
Sharply pieces filter through
Flinging themselves as piercing ice
And tearing at my eyes
They circle and return
All the time growing larger
And through pain, my vision grows
Not ice, but claws of black
The wise gryphon now returns
To its venerable palace spire
And lovliness sculpted by fingers unimaginable
To dream is to seek
And to know is to see
And to see is to ache
To know

Saturday, January 16, 2010

The Burrow

This house reminds me of the Burrow. Yes, from Harry Potter. It's tall and skinny and full of stairs and people. Already I know it's going to be hard saying goodbye to the people.
I'm sitting in the living room right now, avoiding my paper that's due Monday, and looking at the mesh of matching blankets (Sam, our "house big-brother" of sorts bought us blankies), books, cups of tea and coffee, art supplies, video game controllers and comic books that have spread themselves out all over the place.
We're certainly all very different, but we all have similar interests, too. It's weird having people understand when I make some obscure reference to some obscure book or movie.
I feel intimidated sometimes by the thought-caliber of some of the people here, but not in a bad way...in an inspiring way. But I also feel respected-like my voice counts, too.
Furthermore, I'm so glad that this isn't just place of thoughts, it's a place of FUN. One of my favorite things is when we're all in the kitchen cooking and there's happy music playing and we're singing along. I am now of the opinion that all kitchens must be equipped with a sound system. period. We've also, through some very tragic circumstance relating to Sam, had the opportunity to join up in prayer (as we've also done before our meals together). This was an amazing experience as well. We're all pretty comfortable together, and it's very much like a cozy family of 20somethings already.
My living environment here in the house wasn't one of the main things on my mind as I set off for this semester, but I think it's going to end up being one of the biggest blessings. I'm so grateful for the fellowship I've been able to have with these wonderful brothers and sisters in Christ already, especially since I'm missing many of you at home immensely at the same time. The inside of my chest has started to feel a little like an ocean tide-growing empty and full and empty and full again. There's so much to experience that I'm excited about, and so much that I am missing right now, too. But I'm happy.
I found this on my old xanga the other day (I think I wrote it two or three years ago). Anyway, thinking of these things still makes me happy and I thought I'd share it. Oh, well, it won't post, so nevermind. :-)
I read Phantastes, but not Lilith. :-/

Monday, January 11, 2010

And so it begins..

After an exciting day including: orientation at Wycliffe Hall, a grocery shopping adventure in icy Oxford (which is becoming busier and busier as it fills up with students), and a fantastically cheesy vampire movie at a British 'cinema' with awesome new people, I returned to my cozy room (which smells constantly like food, being above the kitchen). I sat down at my laptop, being content with the world and proceeded to check my e-mail, happy to see that I have received my assignments for the term from my Primary tutor (C.S. Lewis in context)
........
:-O
............
:-O
..................
i mean, dang.
First of all, it is all AWESOME.
I'm so excited about reading all of it.
I'm also so incredibly overwhelmed.
We have all this orientation things and field trips going on this week and I just found out I need to read Lilith AND Phantastis (and a bunch of Secondary sources) and have a research paper ready to turn in by Monday. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if had I any idea how to find those books. Hmmm....libraries will be closed. Book-store hunting in store. I have no idea what I'm doing.
Better get started!

Saturday, January 9, 2010


Stream of Consciousness Arrival

In the airport: hustle, bustle, wait, watch, hugs, Rummy, hugs, phonecall, wait, wait, board.


On the plane: Waiting. Met St. Andrews kid, played with buttons, waited, took off, in awe of Atlanta down below. Gold stars wrapped in black chiffon. Looked out window. Tried to sleep. Couldn't sleep. Looked out window more. Had to close the window cover. Played with buttons more. Tapped fingers on the seat. Stared at sleeping people. Tried not to stare at sleeping people. Drank tea. Watched obscure bits of a movie. Very confusing. Listened to music. Decided not to listen to music. Crawled over people. Waited more.

From Heathrow to Oxford: Found friend. Found luggage. Found coach. Riding on the the motorway past old stone houses and fallen wood fences. Hilltops covered and covered in snow. Spirals of smoke from chimneys. Snow glowing pink in the wobbly-orange light. Sunset. Oh, the sheep. In town. In AWE. Wood and stone and history mingled. Spires and brick and angels and gryphons and saints. Scary Night-Bus driver dangerously close to rosy-faces wrapped in brightly-colored scarves (and the people attatched to them). Bus stop. Sudden silence. Nothing but the crunch of feet and the gentle mumur of softly-accented voices. Lights in the snow and posters for things unfamiliar. Taxi. Enjoyable. Anticipation. Lovely house. Warm welcome. Sleep.

First Day: Tired. Strange dreams. Wake up and ready to explore. Tea-first. Talking books with others. Found new friend. In-town adventure and more immense awe. Beauty and wonderful stories everywhere. Surprisingly peaceful and happy. A studious calm. Accents EVERYWHERE. Return to house and embark on lovely walk in the snow to the Vines. Pretty parks and bridges and snowballs. More new friends. Delicious food and warm fellowship. Tea again. Exploring in town second time with the Covenant gang. Pictures and rubber boots. THE EAGLE AND CHILD. Mind-blown. Fish and chips at the EAGLE AND CHILD. Return to the Vines. More Tea. Talked to boy. Happy. More tea. Silly movie. Fun people. Ready to call it a night. :-)

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Setting out...

Whenever I read one of my favorite books, (in which the naive protagonist is inevitably lured into some elaborate scheme which he or she rarely understands) I experience a sensation that's quite complex. It's as if intense struggle and a thrilling high of excitement has somehow been measured out and spoon-fed to me in tablespoons labeled "Safe".
On the one hand, I am able to view the situation from the character's perspective. All readers understand how amazing this truly is. Think about all that can be experienced: knowledge, beauty, mystery, unknown lands, epic battles, peace, anger, war, love, survival, death...the list goes on.
But more than all of that, reading is about adventure. What makes a book great is the whole story: beginning, conflict, resolution. It is interesting to me that for so much pleasure to be derived from a story, we need to experience conflict- a kink in the normal way of things that won't fix itself. There's some part of us that needs to work things out. There's some part of us that yearns for discomfort. What would Alice's Adventure in Wonderland be without the rabbit hole? I suppose that "Frodo's Perfectly Normal Daily Journal of Shire Happenings" might be an interesting read for some (I would probably give it a go), but it's prospects as a timeless classic seem dim.
In reading, this excitement and conflict is coupled with the knowledge that-somewhere beyond the veil of "Willing Supspension of Disbelief"-we can choose to unplug ourselves from the discomfort. We can, but aren't obligated, to battle things out in Wonderland or Middle Earth. We can go make some coffee. Walk the dog. Dance around like a lunatic to "The Killers". Deal with our own, seemingly miniscule problems and feel grateful that the fate of the world doesn't rest in our hands. We can return to our perfectly safe lives and come back to the danger some other time, later.
But what if by pretending there is no danger or adventure or magic in our lives, we are jepordizing ourselves in ways we cannot even begin to imagine?
One of my favorite C.S. Lewis quotes comes from The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. In it, Mr. Beaver is explaining Aslan to Lucy. He says of him "He is not safe, but he is good. He is the King." And He is good. He is very, very good.
See, I have this theory. I think we're on this journey, all of us. And none of us know where we're going. We're just these naive protagonists involved in this elaborate scheme that we really don't and probably could never understand. We have no control over the final destination. But as any well-crafted protagonists (and we are well-crafted) we are meant for one AMAZING, beautiful, mysterious, heart-breaking, love-filled, terrifying journey. And our Author, much like Aslan, isn't safe-not safe at all. But He is very good.
From someone with very limited life-experience, and who is now staring at 15 billion beloved books (only a slight exaggeration) which are threating to attack her from all corners of her room......opportunities for real adventures should not be turned down. Not even in favor of literary ones.
Shall we make a pact to be proper naive protagonists then? To choose what is good, even if it's not safe? ~For Narnia? For Aslan? (irresistible nerd-moment)~
Tomorrow, I'm going across the pond to begin my brief adventure at Oxford University. I've never travelled before at all, let alone by myself. I've NEVER done anything like this. Period. It may not seem like that big of a deal, but I'm SO excited. I'm also a little scared. I haven't read the story and I have no idea how it's going to turn out. I know it will be wonderful and new and challenging and uncomfortable. And I very highly suspect that even though (more likely because) it will not be comfortable...... it will be good.