Irregular Forsakenness

I hope to add on to this post later, but I'll do what I can now.

As I read "A Grief Observed," I sometimes found Lewis' feelings of forsakenness (I don't think it's a word, but you know what I mean) to be, at points, disconcertingly similar to certain episodes in my life. The door-slamming, bolting and double bolting analogy is a fitting one. At other instances, however, I've feel more as what the author of the forward described as her experience in times of great grief, that of comfort, consolation, and irrefutable Presence. I have often wanted to know why some difficulties seem to be solo affairs and others hardly begin before God arrives with the desired balm. I'm sure that part of the reason why is simply that God knows what we need and when, but I still wonder why some trials require one sort of therapy and others a treatment regimen of a different variety.

Too Short to Matter?

I began thinking about the topic of this post after a discussion I had with some members of the class who arrived early. We were talking about a sentiment that the author of the forward of A Grief Observed shared that essentially stated she didn't feel that the Lewis' relationship had lasted long enough to really matter. In her view, not enough time had passed in order for Jack to be able to justify how he felt. Those of us in class didn’t agree with her, of course, but it made me wonder why she felt as she did.

Why, according to some people, are relationships validated only after the passing of much time (though how much is necessary is harder to determine)? Does having only a short time with someone instantly disqualify the relationship from having incredible meaning?  Truthfully, I believe that the answer is more elusive than a simple yes or no. On one hand, each of us is probably familiar with the (typically young) individual who thinks he or she has found “the one” after a chance meeting that spawned a couple of dates or even only hang outs. On the other, I both know through personal experience and friends’ statements that, on occasion, a relationship that only lasted for a comparative moment has tremendously influenced the rest of my/her/his life.

I suppose that the core of the issue is a question: Are time and love (or maybe relationships in particular) inseparably connected? In continuance of my increasingly more regular form, I have to leave the question unanswered because I yet to figure out the solution.

What Is the Connection?

Ever since I first read The Magician's Nephew, I have wondered about the city Charn where Jadis the witch came from. Jadis had annihilated all of the life on the planet after a bitter civil war that she was about to lose. For lack of time (surprise surprise), I won't repeat the history that Jadis provides, particularly since anyone reading this will likely have read the book. What I wonder about is how the history of Charn relates to the history of Earth. I don't see any strong parallels between Charn and the War in Heaven, aside from the loose civil war connection.

As of the present moment, I haven't many answers to this question of correlation between the story and reality. I'm going to have to give it the consideration it deserves and, hopefully, I'll be able to determine what symbols Lewis was embedding into the story.

Shorter Than I Would Like...

So I'm really short on time right now so this post will be much shorter than I would like it to be. I am particularly disgruntled because this post concerns a scene that I have thought about over and over again. Nevertheless, I don't think I have yet grasped what Lewis intended by it. The episode I am referring to is immediately after Peter slays Maugrim/Fenris Wolf and Aslan instructs him to clean his sword and to always do so after combat.

I have a few notions about what Aslan/Lewis meant on a deeper level, but I'm not convinced that any of them are correct. Not one seems to have that "last piece of the puzzle" feel to it. I'm hoping that someday the full truth suddenly hits me or is suggested to me by someone else. Until then, I suppose I'll have to live with the gaping hole of the incomplete, yet acknowledged, lesson.