Shadowlands

 

I suggest to you that it is because God loves us that he makes us the gift of suffering.  C. S. Lewis

This is not a photo of C. S. Lewis.  This is the great Sir Anthony Hopkins portraying  C. S. Lewis, in the 1993 film Shadowlands.  

I watched it yesterday on YouTube.  For free. 

Yes, I've seen it before but I loved every bit of it yesterday. 

Many people have never heard of C. S. Lewis, despite having written around 40 books, including Mere Christianity and The Screwtape Letters. 

His children's series "The Chronicles of Narnia" have sold more than 100 million copies. 

However, I'm not qualified to explain anything about C. S. Lewis's intellect.  

But, I want to share three things:

First, Lewis, who was born in 1898 and died in 1963, was a scholar at Oxford.  While there he was part of a group called The Inklings.  These were scholarly men who, for the most part, challenged each other.  But they were respectful and, above all, curious. 

This kind of growing has gone on since the beginning of humankind.  Men (no girls allowed, of course in the beginning) challenging, learning and growing as a species began around campfires in the wilderness.

Second, in his later years Lewis fell in love with an American woman.  Hopkins portrayed him well.  He was an awkward but kind genius who lived almost entirely in his head. The woman, Joy Davidman, was his intellectual equal on many levels.  The movie is romantic and tragic.  

Finally, this morning I discovered that I'd already written about Shadowlands.  In 2008, when I was a mere 68 years old and newly in love with this man named David, I was visiting him at his home in Edina Minnesota.  It was winter.  My guess is that David had never heard of C. S. Lewis.  But, for my birthday, he took me to the great Gunthrie Theater in Minneapolis to see  the play "Shadowland", the love story of C. S. Lewis and Joy Davidman.

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Canes

 I have a cane collection.  My husband, Ken, started collecting them and, as the years went by, he was given many intricate, hand carved canes from all over the world.  

The history of canes, or staffs, is almost as long as the history of human kind.  Moses' staff in the Old Testament was miraculously transformed by God into a snake and then back into a staff.

Later staffs, or canes were carried by primitive humans for walking, hunting and protection.

Later still, well crafted canes or walking sticks were used as status symbols by wealthy men and was part of their gentlemen's attire. 

In the 1700's the first settlers in America continued to use cans as symbols of wealth and refinement.  Later, the Puritans put a stop to that.  Canes were no longer fancy and were not to be used to show off. 

Now canes are used mostly by old, sick people.  Social status is out the window.  I have had to use a cane at several points during my ten years of battle with Meniere's Disease.  I didn't like it one bit and worked very hard to gain back strength and balance so as not to need the cane.  

I haven't used one for a while now and was feeling good about it.  But then, a few days ago, out the of blue, my Apple watch informed me that my walking steadiness has been poor for several weeks and I could expect a fall within a year. 

What?  Have I been doing those 20 squats a day for nothing?  

So, I'm back to using the cane.  It is not fancy like the ones depicted here.  It's basic black.  The Puritans would be fine with it. 

***

What Do Women Want?

 

I wrote this poem in the 1970s.  I know we should all be grateful for Sigmund Freud and others, like Carl Yung, who was influenced by Freud, in their pursuit to discover what the heck we're all about.  

Later on, C. S. Lewis brought a spiritual dimension into play.  

I was thinking about this question, "What do women want?" when I was in my water aerobics class this morning.  Many of the women in the group are older and the primary caregivers for their unwell husbands.  My guess would be that their "wants" would not be in tune with Freud's conclusions. 

What brought this on was, last week, on TCM, I watched "Freud:  The Secret Passion," staring Montgomery Clift as Freud.  He was perfect for the roll of the depressed, suffering Freud, because Montgomery Clift looked that way in every one of his roles.  

But what got my attention was the young woman he was treating for "hysteria." Her name was  Cecily. 

When he discovered Cecily's diagnosis he also discovered his own.  It's a good movie but I was doing some major eye rolling throughout. 

I'm still sticking to my poem.

***

For more poems, my book New Day is on Amazon.