Last Sunday’s message on Hell at reminded me of C.S. Lewis’s The Great Divorce (wherein, spoiler alert: hell wasn’t so much a fiery furnace, but people who continue shrinking into their gnarled, crooked selves –– a consuming narcissism that can go on forever), and a sentence I’ve heard that goes, “Hell is other people.”
A few years ago I was pleasantly surprised to meet someone that I really liked. He was fascinating, had a similar wavelength in food and fitness, could appreciate cross country road trips in an RV as much as a trip to Patagonia, was keenly observant, and had a sly sense of humor. He culled the best versions of songs across my favorite genres (and genres I didn’t even care for), and we could chat for hours about what happened in our day, philosophy, or nonsense like the proper way of eating a soup dumpling. He understood me. Getting to know him was like entering a universe where I was easily myself, and more. I was able to unfurl the inner facets that never found a place where they could play, simply because the landscape did not exist until I met him. Things ended several months later, and I’ve moved on since. Read More
I want a dog.
The ticking clock is the only sound in the house. It’s cold. I put on some socks. The gingko trees are turning gold outside, and this makes me happy. Autumn makes me very happy.