Have been spending a good amount of time immersed in books. (Am I trying to do my own little reality escape? Probably.) I'd kind of forsaken reading for the last couple of months, but now there's more time to do it. It sure beats obsessing about whether I'm making the right decision, feeling paralyzed by circumstances, pining after some alternate version of reality, or doing the dishes. Oh, the angst.
It's OK to spend some time in the world of ideas, taking a short vacation from the intensity of relationships. I'm re-finding my balance, digging through some of the ephemeral stuff, getting down to the core. Rediscovering the tearing power of metaphor. As our old pal Picasso said, 'Art is a lie which tells the truth.'
I'm regaining the power of living from thought, rather than living by reacting.
I tend to switch between a lot of books. I'm beginning to wonder if there's something wrong with me--I'll go straight from a collection of postmodern twentieth century poetry (I'm a sucker for huge compendiums like that) to a biography of John Calvin. Seems like that would produce some sort of insanity. Just like there's gotta be something wrong with someone who loves the music of Beethoven and the music of Cher...
And now I'm reading TWO different translations of The Institutes of the Christian Religion!
Toni Morrison makes me sweat with her ripping of the division between the reality we usually see and the reality we usually don't see.
John Calvin makes me reel from the power of truth. I stand in the violent flood of grace and mercy. Oh God, let my sin wash away. Let my damaged feet follow you.
Posted by mike at October 25, 2003 01:05 PM