So, the apology post comes a little sooner than I had expected. I am sorry for the last couple entries; the narcissism is bad, ugly, and in a few weeks will probably seem rather stupid to me (like it already does to you).
The turning point in CS Lewis' trip from atheism to Christianity boils down, I think, to the problem of universals, which I don't rightly understand and which Wikipedia evidently doesn't very well either. As I quoted before, Lewis found that Joy was not something he could manufacture through thought or experience; he could experience it, but found (as most of us do) that pursuing Joy was a doomed cause. To think about something is to cease to experience it, in a very real sense.
This forced upon him the understanding that Joy is objective—that, in fact, there was a Universal to which his experience of the particular was attached. He was reluctantly forced to admit that his atheism was for all intents and purposes a failure. It is important to mention that Lewis has a rather special definition for Joy ("It is the having and the wanting"), and that his conversion took quite awhile; he documents this in both Surprised by Joy and The Pilgrim's Regress.
I mention this at some length because that is the manner in which I cope (and, it might be said, as Lewis did; see A Grief Observed). It is in the commerce of syllables and rhythm, of rhyme and meter, that I release a bit of the hurt. In other words, examining grief, in much the same way as examining Joy, is incompatible with actually grieving.
At the end of the day, it is melancholic, overly dramatic, and probably not very good verse, to boot. It is the sort of thing emo goth kids would do (except for adhering more or less to the rules of Elegiac verse, of course). I will finish it, and the ending will be better than the beginning; improvements are always good.
I doubt, however, that I will share it.
2 comments:
Accepted, dearheart.
I am glad I held my tongue for once, you did come through in the end.
Mourn however you need to, it is okay.
Don't forget, lots and lots but more.
As an Exalted Master of Self-absorbtion I say you are a rank amateur.
Seriously though, in regards to lament 3, I'd advise not to remember the yoke alone. Remember that the man is an archetype for the human condition-all his sufferings (and the lament itself) were taken up by Christ. He has borne our yoke of iron that we might take his yoke that is easy (by comparison).
I can say that as I learned to care for the dying, I spilled a lot of ink on that passage and my stuff is likely far more melodramatic than anything you could come up with. However, as I returned to it again and again (along with On the Incarnation), I found the passage a jewel in the midst of the darkness that surrounds it-it became anthemic to me. It is indeed a good place to start when it comes to grief of all types-no hollow platitudes or false cheer, but still, quiet as it is, redemption and hope-the gospel of the man who has seen affliction.
BTW, your verse is not so bad (that's coming from someone who has little appreciation for poetry though). Hope it serves it's purpose and you find the right words. Be well.
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