“The Infinite has sowed His name in the heavens in burning stars, but on the earth He has sowed His name in tender flowers.” – Jean Paul
‘To love, and to be loved, is the greatest happiness of existence.’-Sydney Smith
A couple of nights/early mornings ago I finished listening to ‘The Rage Against God’ by Peter Hitchens.
I acquired the audiobook with my monthly audible credit token a few weeks ago. In recent times I have listened to Robert Tombs’s book about England, and I have listened to dozens of essays that were written by C.S. Lewis. I could form quite a list.
I have listened to three Bob Dylan albums that I currently like the most, on more occasions than my hands have fingers and my feet have toes. They are helping me focus on various pictures in my mind that I wish to put together and write about in the form of a story of some kind.
I could list all the other things I have read and listened to recently. But I’m only trying to sketch a partial picture here…
I often go through seemingly long periods finding myself very worried that I’m listening to and reading all these books in vain. Where does all the information go? What use is it to me? What am I doing? Why am I doing what I am doing?
Everything seems to go through one ear and straight out of the other. But I’m working my mindless job as hard and as well as I possibly can. Homelife involves a lot less fruitless arguments than normal and a lot more fruitful ones.
I believe I’m capable of being a father one day and if the time comes where that happens I’m confident I will not let the fear get the better of me, despite all that is going on all around us that I have no reason to believe I will ever be able to directly change for the better.
I was a very worried man for various reasons in the moments directly before listening the Rage Against God.
And about 4 hours later, all the stock was on the shelves and my shift was complete and I possessed virtually no memory of the large amount of work I had done.
There is a moment I vaguely remember at the beginning of chapter 8 or chapter 9. I was listening to some words being spoken and my mind drifted to flashes of my childhood, and various seemingly profound philosophical thoughts which would probably come across as foolish if I was unwise enough to attempt to write them down.
And I wondered if I was capable of feeling fear like I used to. Niggling worries that my emotions are not working properly. Why am I so calm about everything these days? Why am I not pacing around going crazy at all the evils that are going on all around me?
Whatever was going on in my mind at the time, my eyes were fixed on the part of the sky that is made beautiful by the light shining from the morning star. Then my mind and I went back to listening to the Rage Against God, I do not remember now what was being said/read.
I suddenly noticed I wasn’t alone on the bench anymore. There were some of my colleagues talking to each other. I suddenly had the urge to cry. I took a deep breath and stopped my emotions from being outwardly noticed by my companions and I quietly smiled in tandem with them laughing at something or other, it gave me licence to be a little bit more expressive. And I disguised my cries in the form of a belly laugh.
I love the bright morning star. If it is a clear night, I can gaze at such light for half an hour or so without interruption.
There have been a lot of clear nights recently and some beautiful storms too. Working at night is not so bad really.
I intend to review The Rage Against God one day in the not-so-distant future. But for now, I will keep such thoughts to myself and just see where they lead to. I will however award it 4 out of 5 stars… My only significant criticism is that it wasn’t a chapter or two longer.
So many things I have read and listened to in the last few years are all in that noggin of mine somewhere. And occasionally I will read an essay or read a book and there is a surge of clarity. For fractions of a fraction of a second all the useful information I’ve been recently absorbing brightly stands before me in the fog-filled pathways of my God-fearing mind: