When I am completely absorbed in thinking about people I know very well, I often catch a wisp of their scent, blown in by some unknown breeze. I am always surprised by it. Smells always stir the strongest memories and the strangest longings, longings that transcend time and place.
Desire for unity is the strongest and strangest and most excruciating of them all. It is so other-worldly. When we see beauty we want to be caught up in it somehow. Lewis says it better than I can.
Beauty is not primarily functional. It is not utilitarian. It cannot be used. It can only be enjoyed.
I often feel guilty about a longing which I have mislabeled "laziness." That longing simply to rest and to enjoy beauty. But I think if I did that more often, I would be more practical somehow.
I know this is a very poor standard, but I will feel I have become practically perfect when I can write an essay without staying up all night long to do it. It has not happened in five years. But then, neither have I put beauty first.
One thing have I desired of the Lord; that will I seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life.
To behold the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in His temple.
10/13/2005
You Matter To Me
John understands mattering like no one else. His "sacramental theology" is crucial to our understanding of the new life Christ gives. The matter is the medium for the life of the spirit. And what is mattering but a transcription of transcendent truth and reality into the corporeal world?
It's funny how certain things you think about (things you have managed to matter into mystic conversation) keep getting more and more important, even when you've left them alone for a while.
I don't understand it. But I know it just the same. I know that Life Matters. Does Love Matter? I think it can only matter through people. We can only know it through incarnation.
You are your soul. And your soul matters to your body, or your body matters to your soul. What does it mean to tell someone that they matter to you? I do not know.
But I know that sometimes I look at the spiderwebs and sunsets and I see you. Is that you mattering to me?
Sometimes You are there when North Wind comes roaring up the land in loud October. Or when the sun is on the river in Christ Church meadow, or on those rare nights when I can see Jupiter on my walk home down Pullens Lane.
Other worlds Matter.
Elliora matters your spirit to me darling. She is speaking even now, stealing in through the blackness into my half-opened window, sending her golden and scarlet hands into the firmament. Will she find you? Will she make her way across wind and rest upon your eyelids as you sleep?
Elliora matters. She matters sacramentally and so she matters supremely.
And I can feel You smiling at me in the gilded leaves. Why do you love me? Where have you come from, and where are you staying, and where are you going?
Come and see. Do you love me?
Yes, but...
What does it Matter? You follow me.
It's funny how certain things you think about (things you have managed to matter into mystic conversation) keep getting more and more important, even when you've left them alone for a while.
I don't understand it. But I know it just the same. I know that Life Matters. Does Love Matter? I think it can only matter through people. We can only know it through incarnation.
You are your soul. And your soul matters to your body, or your body matters to your soul. What does it mean to tell someone that they matter to you? I do not know.
But I know that sometimes I look at the spiderwebs and sunsets and I see you. Is that you mattering to me?
Sometimes You are there when North Wind comes roaring up the land in loud October. Or when the sun is on the river in Christ Church meadow, or on those rare nights when I can see Jupiter on my walk home down Pullens Lane.
Other worlds Matter.
Elliora matters your spirit to me darling. She is speaking even now, stealing in through the blackness into my half-opened window, sending her golden and scarlet hands into the firmament. Will she find you? Will she make her way across wind and rest upon your eyelids as you sleep?
Elliora matters. She matters sacramentally and so she matters supremely.
And I can feel You smiling at me in the gilded leaves. Why do you love me? Where have you come from, and where are you staying, and where are you going?
Come and see. Do you love me?
Yes, but...
What does it Matter? You follow me.
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