Monday, May 16, 2005


The truest and most horrible claim made for modern transport is that it "annihilates space." It does. It annihilates one of the most glorious gifts we have been given. It is a vile inflation which lowers the value of distance, so that a modern boy travels a hundred miles with less sense of liberation and pilgrimage and adventure than his grandfather got from traveling ten. Of course if a man hates space and wants it to be annihilated, that is another matter. Why not creep into his coffin at once? There is little enough space there. From Surprised by Joy,Lewis.

In just a little while, I must go get my upper left wisdom tooth pulled. So, I've escaped into the book again and hooked into the above which made me smile, because I've always thought the same thing. I used to rant against cars when I was a young girl. They hit my dogs (1), and (2) they passed the most delightful things without notice! I was a woodswalker from an early age, and I knew what was on the ground. I explored the dens of glade and woods, the bottom of dried up ponds, dried up creeks (and roaring creeks after rain), rocky slopes, wild blackberry bush areas, etc. When in a car, I would look out and want to stop at 1) those rocks that I could jump on 2) those cedar trees to crawl under and find a secret sweet-smelling place 3) those blackeyed Susans and Queen Anne Laces and euchinea to gaze at and, 4) almost everywhere else that promised exploration and loveliness. I'm so glad that Lewis expressed this thought; it'll definitely help me when the dentist plunges in with his metal, unforgiving yanking scraping unnatural hardware. :)

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