"I was very near to a kingdom of ideal beauty. Between it and me hung only a thin veil. I could never draw it quite aside, but sometimes a wind fluttered it and I caught a glimpse of the enchanting realms beyond-only a glimpse-but those glimpses have always made life worthwhile.”
~L.M. Montgomery~
In the 'Wizard of Oz' we find only a doddering old pretender behind the curtain, a disappointment to all those who have come so far seeking his help and wisdom. I never enjoyed watching the movie, though we watched it faithfully year in and year out when it aired annually on one of the three channels possessed of our ancient and primeval culture; it was rather a big deal back in the days before Netflix, TiVo, etc. I'm not sure why we watched it, for it was ever the same story, though I always hoped, somehow, it would change, but it never did. Perhaps that is the next technological advancement: movies that end as you determine, like one of those 'choose your own adventure' books. It was all a dream, a sad, disappointing dream (and kind of scary for a little kid, ugh, those horrid monkeys!). And a strange metaphor for modern life.
And then I had found this other curtain, a real one, much like Montgomery, though I couldn't put it into words at the time, or even yet say it as well as she. People think life is so dull and tedious and ordinary, but that is only because they have not learned to see, to look for glimpses, hints, teasing glances of that other world, the one just beyond ours, the Real World, which as C.S. Lewis says in 'The Last Battle:'
“And as He spoke, He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.”
It is the Kingdom we are commanded to seek as 'little children,' it is the muse of all the poets and the heart of all the great stories. It is the thing we look at but cannot see and hear of but do not understand. It is foolishness and nonsense to the wise of this age; it is beneath the reason and notice of the learned and the great. It whispers in the summer wind, dances with the stars and crescent moon of a June twilight, sparkles in the snow, taunts bluely from the ocean depths, laughs among the dewy violets, and quivers in each strain of the thrush's song; it is in that snatch of a song you can't get out of your head, in the meeting of old and dear friends, in the teary last goodbye of one beloved, the scent of something fresh baked in a home full of warm memory, and the possessive pride of the new mother in her firstborn. It is everything good and wonderful, tender and sweet, young and new, old and beloved of which this world can boast. The best literature and poems are replete with it; it fills our ageless songs and art.
Our scientists tell us our world, universe, our very reality are accidents, meaningless and void, purposeless and without direction. Our doctors tell us all flesh is but dust, perhaps we can keep it from deteriorating quite so fast as might be its wont, but there is no stopping that grim and final reality. Our psychologists tell us it is all in our heads and a pill can certainly fix it, not that it matters, once your neurons quit firing in a year or a century it will all come to naught. But then a little bird warbles in a bush or bit of stray sunshine lights up the leaves like the canopy of some Elvin tent or the stars peep out of that mysterious blue sky and mocks them all. For there is Joy in the world and Hope beyond it. Forget all this modern nonsense about the finitude of mortal flesh and mind, rather seek the wisdom in the old tales, the map hidden amongst the joy and splendor of the natural world, the pointing finger of purpose and meaning and reason behind the veil of this world.
Away with your technology and science, your degrees and knowledge, the words of doctors, philosophers, gurus, and professors. Be again a little child, innocent and ignorant to all but the world about you and the world of story, song, and rhyme. Enjoy the sunshine, the whispering wind, the shy little flowers, birdsong, fairytales and nonsense songs; forget the wisdom of this age, forget yourself in the song of brook and star. For there is something bigger, more wonderful, more amazing just beyond the curtain; will you peek behind it?
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