Too much reality

Feeling feverish has left me with many moments where I'm not sure what I just experienced was part of the reality everyone shares.

Now I have a day of respite, and am wondering how to get inspired.  The fevers sometimes help, but today I'm just feeling dis-connected to my inner creative being.

Then I started running through my favorite blogs.  Sometimes one that comes from literary people will spark and idea.  Sometimes one from the great community of potters will give me something to think about.  And sometimes it's a wise commentary on current events...but less and less likely to be there.

Today Terri Windling gave me just the idea that needed to begin to ferment.  She writes a delightful blog, Myth and Moore, dealing with folk stories, great illustrations of same, and her own life in a wonderful Devon village in Britain.  And she apologized that this post was actually a repost...with new pictures.  Ah the pictures! 

And the concept she started me looking at...Secret Threads.  She quotes C. S. Lewis extensively, but the first two paragraphs grabbed me.

"You may have noticed," wrote  C.S. Lewis, "that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words: but most of your friends do not see it at all, and often wonder why, liking this, you should also like that.

"Again, you have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life; and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw -- but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realise that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported.

The new pictures Terri shares are from Mr. Finch...who makes charming such an inadequate word for his hand crafted fiber animals.  His web site is Here.





So I'm enjoying being somewhat grounded, imagining a thread tied very securely to the base of a nearby tree, and totally floating away into the secret place that I've always enjoyed.  If I don't see you there, I at least will be smiling at my own joys.

Source: from The Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis, published in The Centenary Press' "Christian Challenge" series in 1940