To Ambleside

I have finally made up my mind to post a free-verse narrative poem describing my experience walking the five or six miles over the fells from Grasmere to Ambleside. It's mostly poorly expressed stream of consciousness, but it was a good bit of fun to come up with as I was walking. Consider it an experiment. You may expect tedium and a lack of logical flow. Just don't expect anything of genius. Also, the spacing is entirely messed up because of the blog formatting. C'est la vie.

Journal 3: Lewis and Eliot on the Limits of Words

I must confess from the outset that I take a profoundly mischievous delight in writing this journal, for I intend to bring a strain of ideas in the work of C.S. Lewis into conversation with T.S. Eliot’s poem, “Little Gidding,” in the full knowledge that Lewis would likely have been quite disgruntled by the similarities of thought I will find there.

Journal 2: Modernism and The Abolition of Man

My second effort to engage with the texts for class. I enjoyed it a great deal.
In this journal entry, I want to examine in what way the philosophy which Lewis criticizes in The Abolition of Man relates to the modernist struggle to recreate metanarratives for their lives, how it mirrors the reigning philosophy in our society, and how likely the consequences which he predicts will arise from this view of the world are to occur.

A Few Thoughts from an Oxford Don

Thinking about passages from two wonderful essays by C.S. Lewis in The Weight of Glory today.
The first is from a sermon entitled "A Slip of the Tongue," which is about our own desire to only give part of ourselves to God. It convicted me so much as I read it during my devotions this afternoon, because I detect in myself the overmastering desire to remain in control of my life, to keep some part for myself, to avoid anything embarrassing or uncomfortable that God might ask me to do. Lewis so truly points out that God does not give us this option.

"An Everlasting Love"

It's been a while--sorry for that, but I had no internet access in Helmsley. Which was actually a wonderful thing. Our whole group seemed to take so much joy in the time of rest we had there.
To fill you in, we left London Thursday morning, and drove north for about four or so hours (I don't really remember how many, I slept a good bit) to York. On the way, we passed through Nottinghamshire, which, in case you didn't know, is the home of the Robin Hood legends. So I silently freaked out in the front of the coach, and took random pictures of the countryside.