One of my favorite authors has always been Madeline L'Engle...her books delight my post-modern, dreamy, literary soul and challenge my thoughts on science, religion, and the world in general. She contains quotes as wise and old as the one above--I'm "all replete with very me"--and also simple statements of things that I find my heart questioning no matter how matter how old I am and how much I feel that I've grown. Having just returned from a few weeks of travel with the family, during which time we drove through 9 states, I've had the chance to read several of her books lately. :)
It was funny, but the books I read and the thoughts and questions and experiences we all had traveling in some ways mirrored each other. We visited Los Alamos, NM, to see my sister and her family. It is, in my impression, one of the most ghastly, intelligent, guilt-laden cities I have ever visited. The nuclear bomb was invented in the city, and other inventions still go on...to this day, parts of the city are bordered by security stations, and the general feel in the city is one of a hidden population of some of the most brilliant minds America knows. The whole thing reminds me, in some respects, of the Tower of Babel. Amazing intelligence working together creates...any guesses, Ladies and Gentlemen? No, not health. No, not world peace. No, not a superior culture or nation. No, it doesn't eliminate poverty or hunger or abuse or slavery or crime...
It creates death. The ability to, in a second, snuff life out of the person living next to you, or in the next state, or in the next country, or on the other side of the world.
And even though I KNOW that many people say sending the nuclear bomb to Japan was actually good, because it prevented more people from being killed in long, drawn-out fighting, seeing the cold clear truth that the wisdom of the world and brilliant minds teach us how to kill and take and x out others is simply ghastly.
And it leads me back to L'Engle, and the "all replete with very me" that I often feel inside myself... There is so much that is ugly and wrong and sinful inside. To often, clutching onto my idea of self, I fight to survive (and so often that survival is by killing others around me...).
On the flip side, however, there are other L'Engle quotes: "He makes me feel the most real," and "When are you the most you?"
Simple language, simple questions, but for a person who is in the business of finding meaning in life and death, words that echo deep questions hidden inside. What does it mean to feel real? How do you become "real"? And, maybe the most important for me, when I know that I am "all replete with very me," is it ok to try to be real?
Maybe they are all questions that should have been dealt with in the teenage years of life formation and searching...all I know is that since Japan, there are many things that should have touched me, moved me to tears, and they don't. Churches cause me to put up 6 layers of protective armor that enables me to hide emotion. But these books...move me to tears and fill me with such a longing that I know I am missing something, searching for something, grieving something. Maybe that is strange to say. I don't know.
Connecting with random people on the trip? Really good. Reconnecting with family and old relationships? I'm still clueless. Learning about healing and spending time with a church in Texas? Was often forced, but still a good learning experience for me to go through. Hanging out with my family as we traveled? Much fun. But mostly...there was a longing to be known, a longing to be real to someone...even as the evils and ghastliness of humanity was brought to light, there was a need to see and feel...love.
In her books L'Engle often states that to be real, a person must lose himself or herself. I don't know exactly what theology it is, or what she is thinking...but maybe it is that that I am looking for.
