I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief. Do these notes merely aggravate that side of it? Merely confirm the monotonous, tread-mill march of the mind round one subject? But what am I to do? I must have some drug, and reading isn’t a strong enough drug now. By writing it all down (all?—no: one thought in a hundred) I believe I get a little outside it. That’s how I’d defend it to H. C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed.
Grief is hard for anyone to bear, but I wonder if it wasn't harder for him due to his aversion to church music. Most folks of all stripes love music. Some love pop music, some love classical music, some love both. But his aversion to music left him more emotionally isolated than most grieving people, who turn to music for solace. Music is a kind of mood-altering drug. When a good text is set to good music (hymns, anthems, carols), the combination of word and melody reinforce each other. But he absented himself from musical church services. He had a very textual orientation. And unlike his brother, he didn't travel much, either.
I did not realize that C. S. Lewis was averse to church music. music in general ? That was a very interesting insight.
ReplyDeleteThankful the Lord gave us both music and the Psalms and creativity to write and "sing a new song to the LORD"
This version of part of Psalm 61 has really ministered to me over the years, and now.
ReplyDeletehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m5MkhQC-9vE
It doesn't even have to be Christian music. After Beth died, I would frequently lock myself in a room, play some of our favorite songs over and over, and just cry my eyes out. This was something I did on a daily basis early on -- even multiple times a day, for as much as an hour at a time. It was cleansing. I continue to do this on an occasional basis even now.
ReplyDeleteYou are right, John. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteBless you brother.
Me too.