*This will be my shortest post. How do I know? Because it will have only three hundred words total in it.
This afternoon at about an hour after Intro to Literature class let out, I was sitting in my room, reading for another class, when I felt it. I'm not exactly sure what it was, but you bet your left femur bone I felt it. I was FED UP with words!
The very aesthetic medium I loved the most, infuriating me! They are so abused, misused, and manipulated that I have finally had it. Why the need to be so funny, witty, or arrogantly charming? Or, better yet, why the need to even be heard?
Forgive me, but I feel like being just a little unpoetic at the moment. It all just feels like…like nonsense! …Am I allowed to feel that way? C.S. Lewis, upon losing his wife and writing A Grief Observed, certainly was. Who knew it was allowed?! Are we not to be “correct” in our writing?
Does the old cliché not tell us that "actions speak louder than words?" I mean, how often do we find God come down with a case of diarrhea of the mouth? running on and on with His words. But when God does speak, His words go down in hearts and history books forever.
And when He lets His actions speak for Him, well I dare say that's when He speaks loudest.
Today, in class, we discussed Lewis's analogy of his faith as a "house of cards" and a "card castle." We broke it down and I was quite intrigued by it all. But then I realized my favorite part was just listening. Oh, how beautiful listening can be!
I shall finish this unpoetic blog with one last cliché: "Silence is golden."
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