SOME of television’s most compelling shows start up again this month — and thank heaven for that. “Downton Abbey,” “The Good Wife” and “Girls” will happily draw viewers — like me — back into their characters and their plot-heavy story lines. There is a reason for our attraction to these shows other than that they simply entertain us. “Downton” and today’s other quality television series also promise a welcome escape from a muddled, technology-addled existence.
By pulling us away from Twitter, texts, e-mails, pointless videos and all the other technological distractions demanding attention, “Homeland,” “Mad Men” and “Breaking Bad” provide a coherent (albeit sometimes disturbing) refuge from our fragmented lives. I, for one, find a sense of narrative order, however fleeting, from these shows.
A book I just took out from the library (still one of my favorite haunts) notes:
(Gregory Spencer, Awakening the Quieter Virtues)
A novel my son-in-law, Michael, gave me for Christmas, Boualem Sansal's brilliant The German Mujahid (the first Arab novel to confront the Holocaust) contains this description:
Airports are the anthills of the third millennium, high-surveillance hubs with their business hotels like glass prisons, the hidden loudspeakers spouting counter-fatwas born in the bellies of all-powerful computers.
And then Parker Palmer quoting a Mary Oliver poem on Facebook:
Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,
the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
Do I detect a theme? Is something being said to me over and over again in different forms? Am I listening, Lord?
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