Pensivity

I have the distinct notion that I should be writing this post, but I'm not exactly sure yet what it's supposed to be about. I suppose I should go ahead and ask for your patience as I try to figure this one out. If you grant it, keep reading. If not, check back in for the next post and perhaps I'll be better formulated.

The correct form of the word is actually pensiveness, but that's boring. I prefer pensivity. I like the way it feels in my mouth when I say it. Pensiveness dies on the tip of my tongue, while pensivity takes flight.

Courtesy Merriam and Webster, the definition of pensive: 1) musingly or dreamily thoughtful 2) suggestive of sad thoughtfulness

I think both apply tonight. In fact, I think they often are the same.

I'm reminded of reading Edgar Allan Poe's essay, "The Poetic Principle." In it, Poe asserts an inherent link between a "certain taint of sadness" and "all the higher manifestations of true Beauty." I remember agreeing with him then. I remember thinking of the cross as the prime example. I remember disagreeing with him, however, that Truth and Beauty were of separate realms, one belonging to Reason, the other to Poetry. Again, the cross is the prime example of this. Beauty. Truth. Sadness.

Perhaps you don't see the sadness in the cross. Perhaps sadness makes you think of hopelessness. They are not the same.

I think that's why I see Poe's point about beauty and sadness and agree (though I'm not sure he'd agree with me on the integral part of hope in all this).

This world is broken. It's not as it should be. It is infused with a deep, dark sadness. And yet, the darkest corners of that sadness, the lowest valleys, the crookedest places are all just opportunities. They are just patients waiting for a Doctor. Hope is what makes the sadness in this world so beautiful. Hope is what makes the ugliness of the cross so beautiful. Hope is what makes death less final.

But what is hope? It's nothing without an object. Like faith, it must be placed in something worthy for it to have substance and meaning. What is that object? It is Christ crucified, risen, and coming again. It's the knowledge that the Protagonist wins this story in the end. In fact, He's already won. Now, we just wait for the grand denouement.

I hardly expected to travel that particular thought trail when I began this post, but I think it gives perspective to my pensivity. I find myself tonight thinking of Ian, of his life, of his death. I wonder what he looks like. Sure we have ultrasound pictures, but when he makes his appearance, will his skin be full or empty of melanin. Will he have hair? Blond or dark or somewhere in between? The color of his eyes? Are they destined to change?

These thoughts, they could be merely sad, but instead, I find them beautiful.

I feel the same way when I look out at the world around me. If I take the time to observe it, I see its brokenness. I see wrinkles; I see cracks; I see orphans, widows, homeless, and I see sinners. I see myself. But as I said before, I see these all through the lens of hope. While the conclusion to this story has been written, we haven't yet read the pages. Happy ever afters aren't from fairy tales. Fairy tales stole them from the truest story of them all.

If you're looking for a scapegoat for this seemingly tangled mess of thoughts (as I am), my recent readings in Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl: Wide-Eyed Wonder in God's Spoken World together with my current circumstances are most likely to blame. I'll be writing a review of the book sometime after I've finished. Stay tuned. I think it's a good one (the book not necessarily my written review).

Before I go, can I ask you to do something? Stop and take a look at what's around you. Stare intently at something for long enough to begin understanding it. Examine the pattern in a fabric. The craftsmanship in a chair. The individuals leaves of a tree as they make their chemical exchange, helping both you and the tree continue to live. Don't be unwilling to see the pulls in the thread. The wood glue that is no longer holding fast. The holes eaten into leaves. The wrinkles on faces. The potholes in the road. Take it all in. See it for the beauty that is there and the beauty that is to come. Allow yourself some pensivity.