Suprised By Joy

I love C.S. Lewis.  He's been gone for 50 years now, but every time that I read from his writings, I feel like I've found a long, lost old friend.  What I find beautiful is his journey in how he came to be the man that we "see" and know him to be--the wise scholar, the practical Christian theologian, the author of stories and analogies that teach about God and His workings in our lives (oh, and all of those uber popular children's books that he also managed to produce).  

What many casual readers may never realize is that he spent much of his life an atheist, resisting the very concepts and Being that he so fully embraced and devoted himself to the latter part of his life.  He lead a life much like all of ours in that the challenges and losses that he faced were the very things that brought him to an understanding of why we even exist on this planet in the first place. (If you're still wondering about who YOU are and why you're here, check this link out when you have time.)

 And now back to joy.

  

Do you remember that C.S. Lewis quote that I shared a few weeks ago about finding Joy?  He described it in a book titled The Problem of Pain and in his autobiography, which is the namesake of this post, entitled Surprised By Joy.  It's worth a read, so have a looksie, will you?

You may have noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words: but most of your friends do not see it at all, and often wonder why, liking this, you should also like that. Again, you have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life; and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw – but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realize that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported. 

Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of – something, not to be identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut wood in the workshop or the clap-clap of water against the boat’s side? Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it – tantalizing glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest – if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself – you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say ‘Here at last is the thing I was made for.’

There are several meanings to this passage, but for this post's sake we'll focus on the most straightforward aspect--that of finding those activities and purposes in life that leave you fulfilled.  Once found, profound joy is discovered and you'll find yourself feeling like here at last is the thing you were made for.

Looking through the books that I own and the photos that I've saved, I see that secret binding thread that Lewis mentions.  Let me share a few of those photos.

Jeffre Lake Hike, Vancouver, BC:
Hands down THE most beautiful hike that I've ever done and I've been to some pretty spectacular places in my life.  This photo does no justice to the three aquamarine lakes that are traversed while on this trail, nor can you hear the cracking sounds of the glacier that you see in the middle of this shot, but I still can.  I can even still feel the mild fear that came from anticipating an unexpected encounter with any one of the hundreds of bears that call this particular Canadian heaven their home.

I hiked through alpine meadows, lush forests carpeted in the squishiest of mosses, and climbed to the base of that living, moving glacier.  Spectacular. Sadly, due to circumstances, I had to hike it solo.  The absolute splendor of it all brought me so much joy that day and for the rest of that trip.  What was missing was having someone there, step-in-step to share it with.  I needed to be able to share it in order for the joy to feel complete.  I did the next best thing...posted on Facebook.  Hahaha!

Country roads, Oregon, USA
Here I am on the course of our homegrown 100+ mile cycling ride called 'Couve to Coast, somewhere halfway between my house and the Oregon Coast.

There's something magical and carefree about having the wind whip past your face, covering miles of incredible surroundings and then fly down a hill at the speed of controlled recklessness.  Wanna feel like a little kid again?  Get on a bike.  Ride fast.

Cycling is a gift that was shared with me several years ago by another outdoor enthusiast.  I made the jump from mountain biking to road riding despite the nose wrinkling that most mtn. bikers typically make at such a thought.  Thank goodness I saw past that prejudice!  Because of someone sharing his passion, I benefited, and even more importantly, I've been able to share it with so many others and this has brought me joy.


Mt. Adams, OR.   This final shot was taken last year of a few fellow climbers on the side of Mt. Adams where I had the joy of taking a few friends to summit it.  Imagine the hardest hike that you've ever done while carrying the weight of a Kindergartener on your back and then trusting your life to an ice axe and crampons stuck into crusty mountain ice.  BLISS!!  WHoohoOO!  Serious thrill and exhilaration.  Then when you've dragged your carcass to the top and the adrenaline subsides, you can look across the world and look to your friends to have a moment of shared satisfaction and joy.  I can relive it just by looking at this picture!

I love taking people to beautiful places and to do hard things. Here is my nirvana, people.  Here is what I was made for.  I love looking for and sharing the beauty in doing hard things (and preferably in beautiful places, if possible.)But you know what?  I don't get to experience this joy in this kind of setting as much as I'd like to.  Not every week and definitely not everyday.  But that's okay.  I get to do a version of it at work, at home, and at church if I look real hard and if I think about what I do in those terms.  

So here's this week's challenge, fellow adventurers:  find what brings the kid out in you.  Is it music?  Is it creating art?  Is it teaching others?  Are you making time to actively pursue those joyful activities and are you seeing how that secret thread, as Lewis calls it, is bound in all of the many aspects of your life? You'll be happily surprised to find that joy if you go looking for it, recognize it, and plan to do more of it!

I look forward to hearing about what you've uncovered.  I hope that each of you is discovering what you were made for.

Until next time.

~Arianna