At the advent of the twenty-first century something seemed adrift, waning into darkness. It has taken me awhile to put a finger upon it, but perhaps, for me, the pall is lifting. With all the new gadgetry, the technology, the unadulterated flow of information this new century was offering, my thirst was listing not for something more, but for something of actual substance. The dust accumulated on my bible after so many years of wanting abstention began to fall away; the cover began to crack as the pages began to wear. This indeed stirred my soul, but where were the glories of God’s creation in this new century.

Abhorrent, abominable, appalling, awful (the first four words thesaurus.com issued for ‘horrible’) describe the scene at bookstores, especially those of a more Christian nature. This led me to seclude myself in pre-mid-twentieth century works. I became a recluse of the twenty-first century, finding joy rather in Miles Davis, Charles Sheeler, and C.S. Lewis, wanting anything to have my grandmother’s birthday of 1915, rather than my own.

Obsession of such trivial matters subsided and I found no harm in enjoying great works from the past, and it opened doors to great works from centuries long since seen. However, where were the glories of God manifesting themselves today? It was troublesome. The contrived market driven self help books of Christian appellation sat alongside Tolkien and Lewis. Where was the next generation stirring the souls with the creative breath given them by their Creator. Why did wholesome become synonymous with the “four A’s” given above? Where were the compositions of intelect and creativity that roused synapses to fire as did the works of old?

This story ironically concludes via that indelible tool of the twenty-first century, Twitter. Unbeknownst to me, the harnessing of the tweet soon quenched my thirst for contemporary works of creativity and intellect. The Rabbit Room has become a veritable venture down a rabbit hole. As I go deeper and deeper down I find my soul being stirred unlike anytime in my adult life. There are strings being plucked in my heart that haven’t been heard since my youth. C.S. Lewis may best describe this with his statement: “When I became a man, I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.”

I have been exposed to drawings that cause a desire to put pencil to paper, even though drawing is excruciating for me. I have been exposed to poems and writings that beckon me to open my Moleskine, even though wit and wisdom escape me. I have been exposed to music that almost makes me want to learn guitar. So I tout The Rabbit Room as my rabbit hole for the month of May.

 

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