spirits that speak


the problem of pain

ok, so i've been reading C.S. Lewis lately. i especially love reading him while smoking a good cigar. when i realized that i lost the motivation to do any writing and got scared that i was losing interest too, i decided to start getting back to reading. it seemed that i was writing more when i was reading a lot.

i've been reading donald miller. a good friend recommended blue like jazz. that book changed my views on reading. it changed a lot. i feel like i grew as i read the book. that led to prayer and the art of volkswagon repair. more really good miller. it's not blue... but it's really good. i also read more pop culture titles. 50x50 (50 by 50) is mostly photo driven auto-biography by 50 cent. angry blonde, which is basically the story behind all the lyrics on eminem's first major album; written by the man himself. if dr. dre wrote a book i would buy it in a heartbeat, although i am tempted to get the biography written about him. can't wait for detox, if it ever comes out.

this brings me back to Lewis. while i haven't read all the books written by him, i decided to instead revisit ones that i've read previously. i went back to Narnia and finally finished the horse and his boy. i stopped at prince caspian because the warden said she wanted to read it before she saw the movie...she hasn't been reading it (!!!). after Horse, though, i moved to the space trilogy he wrote, Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength. see, both my narnia chronicles collection and my copy of the space trilogy are found in the form of unabridged compilations, so i just read through the whole thing.

i ate through ...Planet and Perelandra like they were nothing. such brilliant storymaking. the battle between ransom and weston in Perelandra had me feeling sympathetic with ransom's feelings of incompetence. made me reflect on my own capabilities. i've recently started ...Strength and it made me want to write again. it's what i would definitely call one of Lewis' master works. i'm only at the beginning, but as i feel the story take shape and know that something big is developing, i feel anxious.

all of this, everything i read, kinda makes me wish something big was developing in my life. it feels like it was developing when i was in college. then, after graduation, it kinda feels like all development stopped. like someone was writing my story and hit a bad case of writers block. now, since i have a wife and child, i am working to pay the bills and i don't feel secure persuing the story that was developing. i feel like another story began. one that you read a few chapters of and put down because it just isn't going anywhere.

i'm not feeling sorry for myself here, and certainly am not soliciting any of that kind of thing from anyone who might be reading this. so if you're going to comment in that kind of theme, please just save it and pray for me instead. i'm simply saying that reading and re-reading some the best books i've ever read, books that are sincere and compelling, is why i'm writing this post. it's really made me reflect on what's going on.

...that and it gives me something to do while i smoke a cigar that takes an hour to finish.



yeah, i'm writing here. part of me has been asleep for a long time. without trying to make excuses i'll just say that i don't bother trotting it out most of the time anymore because nearly everyone at work wouldn't see the point and the warden isn't interested.

i suppose it's likely true that i fancy myself more sufficient intellectually than i actually am. like most things i try but can't seem to measure up to some peers.

irregardless, i've got a post cooking and will hopefully get it posted here in the next day or two. it won't be significant, but i'm starting to awaken a little. in the next post i'll explain why i think that is.