[Bear Pit] Two Griefs Observed

Two Griefs Observed:
The Love and Grief of Jack and Orual

When C.S. Lewis set out to rewrite a classical myth with a focus on grief and love, the resulting story became a personal favorite of his. Later, during his own period of intense grief and anguished love, he wrote a book which has become a favorite of many of his readers. The stories contained within these two books show very different characters in very similar situations. A Grief Observed shows the process of grieving as seen through the candid thoughts of a Christian thinker, whereas Till We Have Faces shows that process through the eyes of a pagan princess. Despite these differences, these writings work together to reveal the profound truth that love is no more than a destructive force when exhibited by one who refuses to acknowledge the goodness of God.

The grief which Lewis experiences after the death of his wife is similar in almost every way to the grief faced by Orual after the loss of her sister, Psyche. As is to be expected, their initial reactions are very similar and they both face the same trials and questions in the course of their grieving. The first challenge faced by Lewis and Orual is the silence of the gods in the face of their loss. Lewis first describes this experience early in A Grief Observed:

When you are happy, so happy that you have no sense of needing Him, … if you remember yourself and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be—or so it feels—welcomed with open arms. But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside. After that, silence.

Lewis describes this silence as one of the most disquieting symptoms of grief; a symptom which causes him to question whether God ever answered his cries at all. Likewise, the apparent silence of the gods is a key part of Orual’s charges against them in Till We Have Faces:

I stretched myself face downward on the floor and called upon [the gods] with my whole heart. I took back every word I had said against them. I promised anything they might ask of me, if only they would send me a sign. They gave me none.

Here as well as elsewhere throughout her narration, Orual names the silence of the gods as the primary source of her anguish. This charge is, perhaps, accurate, for it was Orual’s inability to understand the signs of the gods that drove her to destroy both Psyche’s happiness and her own happiness.

It is this silence of the gods which fosters the inclination to believe terrible things about them. As Lewis states in A Grief Observed, the dreaded silence does not put him in danger of ceasing to believe in God. Rather, “the real danger is of coming to believe such dreadful things about Him.” Sure enough, Lewis struggles with the question of why he does not believe God to be a Cosmic Sadist or a spiteful imbecile. In an intense moment of passion, he even imagines hope itself to be a divine instrument of affliction: “time after time, when He seemed most gracious He was really preparing the next torture.” Orual must also judge for herself the nature of the gods and decide whether she will believe “that the gods are real, and viler than the vilest men” or accept Psyche’s interpretation of the matter:

Or else … they are real gods but don’t really do these things. Or even—mightn’t it be—they do these things and the things are not what they seem to be? How if I am indeed to wed a god?

It is important to notice here that Orual does not admit as a possibility the flat rejection of the gods’ existence. Despite the Fox’s lessons, the overpowering presence of the gods in that hour would not allow Orual to ignore them—it would only allow her to form a free opinion of them.

The gods had asked the same question of Lewis and Orual: “Who do you say I am?” The two choose radically different answers when faced with this question, and it is this choice which determines their separate fates. After toying with the idea of the Cosmic Sadist, Lewis dismisses such ramblings as being “not so much the expression of thought as of hatred.” Indeed, he proclaims his renewed faith in the goodness of God and goes on to reconsider the death of his wife in light of this goodness:

If, as I can’t help suspecting, the dead also feel the pains of separation …, then for both lovers, and for all pairs of lovers without exception, bereavement is a universal and integral part of our experience of love. It follows marriage as normally as marriage follows courtship or as autumn follows summer.

Orual, on the other hand, fails to grasp this truth because she rejected her sister’s claim that the actions of the gods might be very different from what we perceive. She refuses to give more than a moment’s thought to the possibility of their goodness, even when the God of the Mountain opens her eyes to see his castle. In choosing her own love over the gods, Orual falls prey to what Lewis describes in the Introduction to The Four Loves: “Every human love, at its height, has a tendency to claim for itself a divine authority. Its voice tends to sound as if it were the will of God Himself.” Lewis, on the contrary, bows his head in submission to the God who is Love.

Having made their choices, it is clear that Lewis emerges from his grief with a strengthened faith, while Orual immediately and vividly enters a period of self-destruction following her bout with the God of the Mountain. It is Lewis’s faith that pulls him through the grief of his wife’s death. As he says, “Turned to God, my mind no longer meets that locked door; turned to H., it no longer meets that vacuum…” The order in which this takes place is important, for as long as Lewis is grasping only for H., he is acting in futility. As soon as he is able to look first to God, he is given all things in abundance. Orual, having blasphemed the goodness of the gods, vows to be always veiled, thus creating the veiled queen as an instrument intended to destroy Orual and steal from the gods whatever punishment they would inflict. By the end of the first book of Till We Have Faces, however, it is clear that Orual’s symbolic suicide does not release her from the agony of her loss, but only sets her in a more tragic situation than before.

A drastic change occurs in Book II of Till We Have Faces; Orual is shown the true nature (i.e., the face) of her love and is redeemed when she comes to understand the absolute goodness of the gods. Despite what it seems, Orual’s love is not a case of isolated selfishness, but a case “of human affection in its natural condition: true, tender, suffering…” When this case of human affection is made to stand stark naked before the gods, the claim that she has laid upon the object of her love reveals that she makes one fatal and false assumption:

We’d rather they were ours and dead than yours and made immortal. … That’s why I say it makes no difference whether you’re fair or foul. That there should be gods at all, there’s our misery and bitter wrong. There’s no room for you and us in the same world.

The fatal assumption, of course, is that her love would be able to exist apart from the gods. Without acknowledging the goodness of the gods, Orual suffers a sort of sickness which flows over to plague her love for Psyche, turning it into a controlling and selfish love which feeds on false feelings of nobility and heroism. It is not until the judge puts a stop to Orual’s complaint that she comes to understand the fallacy of her charge and, subsequently, the goodness of the gods. It is at this realization that she truly gains the face with which to face the gods.

The most significant factor that contributed to Lewis’s recovery and Orual’s destruction—and subsequent redemption—was the attitude that each adopted toward the goodness of the gods. As long as Orual denied that the gods could be good, her love for Psyche robbed the girl of her freedom to attain any individuality. This love found its greatest pleasure when Psyche was under the control of Orual. It is interesting to note that C.S. Lewis was not immune to this perturbation of love, and he often displays it in the first chapter of A Grief Observed. Throughout the chapter, he frequently laments his tendency to substitute for his wife “a mere doll to be blubbered over.” Accordingly, it is not until Lewis assents to the goodness of God that he is able to find peace after the death of his wife.

[Miracles] Precis - Final

If Naturalism—the belief that only Nature, as an interlocking system, exists—is correct, it should be able to explain any event as a necessary part of a Total System. If anything exists wholly independent of that System, then Naturalism is false.

All knowledge beyond immediate sensation is the result of inference, which requires the validity of inference--also called reasoning. If knowledge through inference is possible, it follows that any philosophy which denies external truth known through reasoning cannot be argued for. It turns out that this is what Naturalism is bound to do.

Reason, to the Naturalist, must be a series of necessary causes and effects within the human mind, and any beliefs must be assented to as necessary parts of the Total System, not as reflections of truth which supersedes the System. In short, a Naturalist allows for the mental process of reasoning, but weakens it to be irrelevant to the knowledge of truth.

Before examining knowledge any further, one must consider two types of relationships: Cause and Effect and Ground and Consequent. The former indicates a necessary connection between events; the latter indicates a logical connection between beliefs (psychological events) attained through inference and the grounds for those beliefs. Naturalism by definition demands that any event in Nature be the Effect of some Cause. Additionally, our beliefs must be a rational Consequent of some Ground in order to be valid, yet also the Effect of some Cause in order to occur at all.

The current difficulty is that lack of logical grounds cannot prevent a belief's occurrence in a Naturalist world, since any belief can be excused as a necessary Effect of some Cause. The Naturalist responds that the mere existence of a Ground for some belief is sufficient to cause that belief, thus introducing an event (belief) which is both the necessary Effect of some Cause and the rational Consequent of some Ground. But this cannot be, since we are not caused to believe all possible Consequents when we perceive the existence of any Ground. The Naturalist counters that an event can cause a belief by being seen to be a Ground for it. That is, a belief is the necessary Effect of a Cause, and the Cause is the perception of the relationship between a Ground and its Consequent.

This argument leads to the conclusion that beliefs are distinct from other events in that (1) they are about something external and (2) can be true or false. (It is false in the case that the Consequent does not follow from the Ground.) The Naturalist holds that beliefs are subjective events in a person’s psychological history. According to his argument, however, a belief is the perception (whether true or false) of an implication external to the believer. The Naturalist cannot discredit the second point of view without discrediting all human knowledge and cannot accept the second point of view without allowing for an “act of knowing thus solely determined by what is known,” but such an allowance would admit something beyond Nature.

Next, Lewis addresses whether Nature alone can give rise to rational thought. Naturalism makes the claim that human thought has not always been rational comprehension of objective truth, and that rational thought is a result of the process of evolution. The difficulty of this proposition lies in the distinction between response to stimuli and insight which leads to knowledge. Responses cannot become insight simply by increasing the frequency of useful responses. Thus, insight cannot possibly be explained as a result of Nature’s course over billions of years.

A Naturalist may make the claim that rational thought is merely a string of inferences drawn from repeated experience. However, this allows for only an expectation of future correlation, it does not allow for a true understanding of the connection between a Cause and its Effect. The former requires only animal instinct; the latter requires rational thought. Here again we see the need for understanding of the relationship between a Ground and its Consequent in order to make a valid judgment of truth. This understanding cannot be a result of repeated experience, since it must be the judge of repeated experiences.

Ultimately, the Naturalist may concede that our thoughts are useful for life but may not be aimed at external truth. The difficulty here is that there is no clearly useful purpose for belief in Naturalism, and the belief itself cannot therefore be argued or even relied upon. This is the Cardinal Difficulty of Naturalism.

749 Words

[Bear Pit] Christian Morality

     In his book Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis sets out to explore what Man is able to discover apart from special revelation and what it is that special revelation gives to mankind. In particular, he attempts to lay the necessary foundations for a generic system of morality, and then builds on top of that foundation the specific moral teachings of Christianity. In taking this approach, he is able to convey to his reader the terrible fix in which fallen humanity finds itself, and then follow it up with the solution provided by Christianity. Ultimately, Lewis analyzes the Natural Law and concludes that it provides an insufficient moral system, and then looks to Christianity and discovers that the completion of the moral system is found in Christ’s power to forgive those who transgress the Law.

     In order to understand Lewis’s analysis of morality, we must first grasp what is necessary for a complete system of morality. He discusses this in the beginning of Book Three, Chapter 1 (“The Three Parts of Morality”). The first component of morality is concerned with harmony between individuals in a society. This is the most widely agreed-upon aspect of morality and generally what is meant when people say that they wish to be morally virtuous. The second component of morality is concerned with “tidying up or harmonizing the things inside each individual.” Despite its being a natural extension of the first aspect of morality, this second aspect is often neglected because its effects are far subtler than those of the first component. The final component of morality must inform a man about the relationship between God and Man, and presents one great difficulty which must be addressed: how can Man presume to enter into a relationship with the Power against which he has so often and so horribly sinned? The validity of Lewis’ requirements for a moral system to be complete will be discussed in the final section of this essay.

     Working toward a complete system of morality as defined above, Lewis must first examine the Law of Human Nature in hopes of finding all three of the above components. In arguing for the presence of an ingrained law, Lewis explains that men have “a curious idea that they ought to behave in a certain way, and cannot really get rid of it.” He goes on to show that the system of morality prescribed by the Law of Human Nature is generally the same as that which Aristotle discovered and consists of the Cardinal Virtues: Prudence, Justice, Temperance and Fortitude.

     The first question that must be asked in testing this system of morality for completeness is whether or not it is able to enhance relations between men. For the sake of brevity, let us examine only the effect of Justice on society. Supposing that two obviously just men engage in a business transaction, it is evident that they are more likely to conduct business fairly and efficiently, with greater mutual benefit than if one or both were relatively unjust. This conclusion is based on the safe assumption that peace is more desirable than enmity and gain better than loss. The same scenario can be constructed with any of the other Cardinal Virtues being applied with the same utilitarian effect.

     The next question that must be asked is whether or not the Natural Law is able to improve a man’s internal state of affairs. This is a much more difficult and important question to answer than the first, and is likewise the first point at which some people will disagree. The objection will most often be, “Is not morality concerned merely with actions?” To ask this question presumes that the only type of action is that which is visible to the eye. On the contrary, the inner actions of the human soul are often invisible to others but still fall under the Natural Law. As Lewis states, “there is a difference between doing some particular just or temperate action and being a just or temperate man.” In addressing this paradox, Lewis echoes Aristotle’s concept of “right motives” when he says:

We might think that, provided you did the right thing, it did not matter how or why you did it…. But the truth is that right actions done for the wrong reason do not help to build the internal quality or character called a ‘virtue’, and it is this quality or character that really matters.

This highlights the most profound aspect of Lewis’s vision of morality: the difference between behaving virtuously and becoming virtuous. Where the focus of a moral system is on the internal state of affairs, it is of little use to consider a man’s external actions. Given that a man who practices the Cardinal Virtues regularly will, over time, take into himself the stamp of those virtues, it is apparent that the system of morality presented by the Law of Human Nature is, in some instances, able to repair or enhance the harmony inside each individual.

     The final test of the Cardinal Virtues is whether or not they are able to set right the relationship between God and Man. In Chapter 5 of Book I (“We Have Cause to Be Uneasy”), Lewis explores the limits of what the Law of Human Nature can reveal about God and discovers “that what we find out on our own steam is something that gives us a shock.” Lewis goes about this task by assuming that God must be intensely interested in right conduct—that is, He does in fact care that men adhere to the Law of Human Nature. Furthermore, Lewis remarks that the Natural Law “tells you to do the straight thing and it does not seem to care how painful … it is to do.” In light of this, Lewis concludes that the Law of Human Nature does not reveal a God who is personal or forgiving or merciful. It can only reveal a good God who is judging, harsh, and wholly inaccessible to Man, for those are the qualities observed in the Natural Law. Ultimately, the Natural Law fails to offer a way for Man to approach God without such an action ending in utter devastation. The only conclusion to be drawn from this is that the Natural Law does not offer a complete moral system.

     Having exposed the incompleteness of the Cardinal Virtues as a standalone system of morality, Lewis introduces the solution of Christ and then examines the resulting system of Christian morality. In Book II, Chapter 3 (“The Shocking Alternative”), Lewis presents to his audience the story of Christ, particularly emphasizing His power to forgive sins. As was said before, the chief difficulty in the relationship between God and Man is our inability to enter into a relationship with the Power against which we have so often and so horribly sinned. Lewis shows that this difficulty is swiftly overcome by Jesus Christ, who is God Incarnate:

He unhesitatingly behaved as if He was the party chiefly concerned, the person chiefly offended in all offences. This makes sense only if He really was the God whose laws are broken and whose love is wounded in every sin.

The peculiarity of Christianity is this condescension on the part of God to the level of Man, for it proves to be the only way for the chasm between God and Man to be crossed. The key lies not in the power of Man but in the Grace of God. In fact, this is the first sign Lewis finds that God may be gracious and forgiving rather than only judging and harsh. Having introduced the means to a restored relationship with God, Lewis goes on to verify that the Theological Virtues of Faith, Hope and Love will fulfill the third component and thus provide a complete system of Christian morality.

     I depart here from Lewis’s path to consider whether or not his tripartite division of morality is consistent with the teachings of Scripture. For this purpose I look to Jesus’ great exposition of Christian morality found in Matthew 22:37-39:

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.” This is the great and foremost commandment. The second is like it, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” On these two commandments depend the whole Law and the Prophets.

The greatest commandment is naturally the one which addresses our relationship with God, into which we pour our entire being. The second greatest commandment, to love our neighbors, seems to be conditional upon first loving ourselves. Comparing this interpretation of Scripture against Lewis’s view, it seems that the two are highly compatible.

     In conclusion, C.S. Lewis successfully constructs a biblically-valid system of Christian morality which completes the moral system suggested by the Natural Law. This is particularly appropriate in light of his statement that “people need to be reminded more often than they need to be instructed.” Lewis is careful not to tear down the existing and valid moral framework of the Cardinal Virtues while still showing that they are incomplete and hopeless without the Incarnation and Jesus’ power to forgive sins.

[Mere Christianity] Humility

Humility

Of course, it is very right, and often our duty, not to care what people think of us, if we do so for the right reason; namely, because we care so incomparably more what God thinks. But the Proud man has a different reason for not caring. He says 'Why should I care for the applause of that rabble as if their opinion were worth anything? ... They're nothing to me.' In this way real thoroughgoing pride may act as a check on vanity; for, as I said a moment ago, the devil loves 'curing' a small fault by giving you a great one. We must try not to be vain, but we must never call in our Pride to cure our vanity.

On this point of Pride, I think it is worthwhile to examine the relationship between vanity, pride, and humility. All three states of mind (if I may call them such) display some similar outward traits based on completely opposite interior circumstances. Neither pride nor humility places great stock in the approval of peers; neither pride nor vanity exists without a presupposed scale of 'greatness' by which to judge; neither humility nor vanity is quick to identify itself by its proper name. (By this last point, I mean simply that a vain man will excuse himself as 'attentive to the concerns of others' while a humble man will, upon looking to God, declare that he is wretchedly prideful.)

How does one fall onto the journey from humility to vanity, or from vanity to pride? I say 'fall onto' because nobody consciously chooses to become vain or proud. It is clear that the path away from humility begins with taking one's thoughts and meditations off of God. As long as a person maintains a clear and constant focus on God's greatness, I cannot imagine a case of pride or vanity rising from within. Which only leaves the question of where vanity ends and pride begins.

At first glance, Pride seems to be simply the extreme of vanity. Upon closer inspection, though, it seems that vanity turns to pride where a person's own opinion of himself becomes more important than the opinion of his peers. Up until this point, it is always possible to confront a vain person on his vanity, since it is the opinion of his friends is what he strives to please. If his friends disapprove of his vanity, it is quite possible that he will see his error and set his eyes once more upon God. However, once vanity has turned to true and brutal pride, a man cannot be confronted by his peers, for you will find that his respect for any dissenters has been deteriorated by the pride which has been allowed to consume him. At this point, I suspect that nothing but a glimpse of God's Glory can bring a man back from the depths of pride that plague the soul.



In case you cannot guess, I do feel as though I am speaking from experience here.

[Space Trilogy] Out of the Silent Planet

Malacandra
Originally uploaded by Sethicus.

Well, I read it. I enjoyed it. I found a few good nuggets in it, but I must admit that I had a remarkably difficult time really wrapping my brain around it. I was wholly unable to get a mental picture of what the Sorns and Pfiffiltrigi looked like, and was only able to imagine the Hrossa because of the picture on the cover.

I am looking forward to reading about Dr. Ransom's other journeys, though I do not feel the same anticipation or intense burning that I feel when reading The Chronicles of Narnia.

Oh, and school is starting soon!! That means I get to reacquaint myself with the Torrey style.
*much rejoicing*

[Weight of Glory] The Inner Ring

And the prophecy I make is this. To nine out of ten of you the choice which could lead to scoundrelism will come, when it does come, in no very dramatic colours. Obviously bad men, obviously threatening or bribing, will almost certainly not appear. Over a drink or a cup of coffee, disguised as a triviality and sandwiched between two jokes, from the lips of a man, or woman, whom you have recently been getting to know rather better and whom you hope to know better still--just at the moment when you are most anxious not to appear crude, or naive or a prig--the hint will come. It will be the hint of something which is not quite in accordance with the technical rules of fair play; something which the public, the ignorant, romantic public, would never understand. ... And then, if you are drawn in, next week it will be something a little further from the rules, and next year something further still, but all in the jolliest, friendliest spirit. It may end in a crash, a scandal, and penal servitude; it may end in millions, a peerage, and giving the prizes at your old school. But you will be a scoundrel.

This is a lesson that was lost on Martha Stewart, Dennis Kozlowski, Andrew Fastow, and Bernard Ebbers. It is a lesson which would have served them well, and a lesson which can serve anybody in any walk of life well. Scoundrelism does not parade itself as such, for there is still a sense of shame and intolerance in our society for those who openly bend the rules to fit their wishes. I cannot count the times that I have been told--by people who had my utmost respect--that the rules only apply to "those lesser men" who are not in The Inner Ring. The temptation is subtle, as most effective temptation is, but once the line is crossed it is very difficult to shed one's scoundrel tendencies. Okay... gotta get back to work now!

[Weight of Glory] gods and goddesses

Firenze
Originally uploaded by Sethicus.

"The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbour's glory should be laid on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken. It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. ... But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit--immortal horrors or everlasting splendours. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously--no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be a real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner--no mere tolerance, or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbour is the holiest object presented to your senses. If he is your Christian neighbour, he is holy in almost the same way, for in him also Christ vere latitat--the glorifier and the glorified; Glory Himself, is truly hidden." - C.S. Lewis

[Surprised] Fake It Till You Make It

To be ashamed of what you were about to say, to pretend that something which you had meant seriously was only a joke—this is an ignoble part. But it is better than not to be ashamed at all. And the distinction between pretending you are better than you are and beginning to be better in reality is finer than moral sleuthhounds conceive.

I have often subscribed to the belief that the first step in becoming virtuous is to act virtuous. Until now, I didn't have any explicit confirmation of this belief other than the testimony of two pagans: Aristotle and Garrett May. Those of you who have seen me a lot over the past six months may have noticed my habit of sticking my fingers in my mouth and biting (ala Caleb Winn) when I find the opportunity to speak folly. I have always wanted to believe that withholding those comments was only a step away from not having those thoughts, but I have also encountered the mentality that pretending (and desiring) to be good is a very far cry from actually being good.

With a few simple words, Dr. Lewis has solidly vindicated my belief in the "Fake It Till You Make It" mentality. Naturally, any comments in agreement or dissent are welcome. Oh, and along the lines of "times when I should bite my tongue," I really got a good laugh out of the following Lewis quotation:

It was a matter of taste: I felt the "charm" of goodness as a man feels the charm of a woman he has no intention of marrying. It is, indeed, at that distance that its "charm" is most apparent.

[Surprised] Societal Structures

Some might think that ... [Fribble] might have come forward and confessed his part when he saw what I was in for. But that, you know, was hardly to be expected. ... By coming forward he would have imperiled his social position, in a community where social advancement was the one thing that mattered; school is a preparation for public life.

One of the interesting things about Lewis is his keen perception of humanity and what it is that makes people tick. In the section quoted above, he explains what it is that keeps "Fribble" from coming forward to prevent the flogging of young Lewis in school: a community where social advancement was the one thing that mattered. As Danielle pointed out to me, it is not necessarily the case in 'the real world' that social advancement is the one thing that matters, or that social advancement comes only from the acceptance of one's peers. Lewis, however, was not in 'the real world':

At some schools, I am told, there is a sort of dyarchy. An aristocracy of Bloods, supported or at least tolerated by popular sentiment, stands over against an official ruling class of Prefects appointed by the Masters. ... It was not so at the College. Those who were made Prefects were nearly all Bloods. ... We thus had only a single governing class, in whom every kind of power, privilege, and prestige were united. Those to whom the hero worship would in any case have gone, and those whose astuteness and ambition would under any system have enabled them to rise, were the same whom the official power of the Masters supported.

Lewis here identifies the fatal flaw which made the school's class system of "Prefects" and "Bloods" and "Fags" and "Tarts" inescapable: the lack of a competing or alternative social order. Anyone with the ambition to revolt against the Bloods would have become a Blood before he had accumulated the clout to stage his revolt. And once he becomes a Blood, it would make little sense for him to attempt a coup. Thus, the Bloods remained in power not by destroying the 'rebel leaders' but by assimilating them. The few natural leaders who would not join the Bloods would simply graduate from the school before any changes in the social structure could be affected.

I think that's it for now. Perhaps I will edit this post and add more later.

[Surprised] Conviction

Originally uploaded by Sethicus.

A new element had entered my life: Vulgarity. Up till now I had committed nearly every other sin and folly within my power, but I had not yet been flashy.

Yeah... that was a stabbing conviction right there. While reading this chapter I realized, for the first time, just how little I desire to be the "flashy" person I have become since I began working at FocalPoint. I have lost focus of what it means to live a lifestyle of simplicity and virtue, and this I blame largely on the example set for me by my bosses. In comparing myself to them, I find that I am relatively modest and temperate. In comparing myself to the standard of modesty and virtue to which I aspire, I find that I am excessively indulgent and frequently prone to gluttony of material things.

So now that I've voiced my conviction, I face the age-old dilemma: What am I going to do about it? Well... that is a good question. I can't simply abandon all traces of flashiness (I do, after all, drive a BMW), but I believe that I can work on changing my habit of exhibiting and emphasizing the 'vulgarity' in my life. I don't know what effect that will have, but I am hoping it will be a significant and positive one.

On a final note, this document is something I wrote after reading Marcus Aurelius' Meditations in my Freshman year. It's a Statement of Character enumerating the goals I had for my life. I have achieved some of them and failed miserably at others, but I lay them out as a list of the traits which I desire to exhibit.

[Surprised] Childhood

Conways
Originally uploaded by Sethicus.

As I was reading Surprised by Joy last night, I had a few reflections on my own childhood experiences. I have few memories that have stuck with me as clearly as those recounted by C.S. Lewis, but what was particularly striking to me is the positive influence that reminiscing can have on oneself. As we are so often told, "it is not good to dwell on the past," but I find that it is quite healthy to revisit and examine the events that have molded me into who I am.

My childhood was generally happy--except that my social life was a bit on the glim side (everyone hated me)--but looking back on the growth process enables me to look forward and remember just how little control I actually have over my life.

*back to work*

[Surprised by Joy] Cardboard Castles

Narnia
Originally uploaded by Sethicus.

You can do more with a castle in a story than with the best cardboard castle that ever stood on a nursery table.

One of the things that I have learned since coming to Torrey is the constructive power of the imagination. I have often been accused by my teachers of having an overactive imagination (which often bore fruit during class), which led to my natural belief that my imagination was a disaster needing to be squelched. My mother was instrumental in encouraging me to focus my imagination in such a way as to harness the productive energies therein. She would encourage me to draw planes and trains and cars, to tell stories that would defy physical and biological principles, and to soil my clothes in our backyard sandpit building all sorts of tracks and arenas for my imagination to run wild.

Lewis continues on in Surprised by Joy to remark how void of poetry his early worlds of invention were. Sadly, I find that my has always been deficient in the area of poetry, except that I have come to cherish "that which is poetic" in many significant ways. Whenever I discover a friend with one of those souls which bleeds poetry, she (as is usually the case) instantly gains an influence in my life. I tend to revere that which I do not possess, and I likewise revere those whose souls are full of the poetry that I do not comprehend. As I remember, it was Vanauken's A Severe Mercy (given me courtesy of Kathryn Jones) that first clued me in to the power of poetry over the soul. After that, it was the Torrey Theatre experience that showed me that my soul was not dead to the moving power of art and beauty, as I had previously suspected to be the case.

Thus endeth the first reflection on the dozen or so Lewis books I will be reading in the coming months.