It's funny, but I just discovered that the title of my blog actually reflects my whole motif about longing for adventure with familiarity. Tigers, representing the exotic and adventures...and tea, the coziness of familiarity and home and simple pleasures. Like curling up in a soft chair with a cup of hot tea at your elbow and "The Silmarillion" on your lap....AHHH! Well, I haven't finished that book yet. My copy was too heavy to take with me to India, but I sped (as well as I could) so I could finish the tale of Beren and Luthien before I left. Wow, seriously, that book is one of the best things I've ever read, and I haven't even finished it yet! C.S. Lewis is probably my favorite author, but I have to admit that Tolkien is the master of fantasy. I used to think no fantasy could ever top the Narnia series, but I'm afraid Tolkien's books do. Not that Narnia is anything to sneeze at. "May it never be!" as the apostle Paul would say. *grin* I love Narnia for itself...I just mean I think Tolkien's works are better as far as "fantasy" goes.
By the way, did I ever tell you that I read the first two Narnia books to Brownie and Bud while I was there? Yeah...and I started with "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe." Then I immediately began "Prince Caspian." I don't really think it would be so bad if you started with, "The Magician's Nephew," but I had to consider my audience. A seven and five year old...hmmmm.
It was a good thing I did, too. "What's a wardrobe?" "What's a professor?" "Now who is Susan again?" And that was the first book. In the second book, I nearly tore my hair out trying to explain what was going on. Not because they didn't just know, but because I was trying my hardest to help them understand, and nothing was working! It was horrible! And....have you ever tried to explain the treachery of the Lords Glozelle and Sopespian to a seven and five year old? Oh. My. Gosh.
But, you know, that's okay! Sure it was frustrating for me, but the whole idea was to give them their first taste of fantasy. That was thrilling for me. No, of course they couldn't understand it all; that wasn't the point. If they understood some of it and liked it, then they'll want more as they get older, and they'll probably read the rest of them! I remember my first taste of fantasy was when my father read those books aloud to us when we were little. My brother cried when Aslan was killed, and I was devastated. And yeah, in Prince Caspian, I didn't have a clue what was going on. But what little I could understand, and the even fewer bits that stuck with me were beautiful. Even if I couldn't understand, I just loved hearing my father read to us. It was a special time. Same with my mother. I can't begin to count how many books my mother read aloud to us when we were kids. She picked wonderful books. She read us "Pollyanna," and "Anne of Green Gables," "Freckles," "Girl of the Limberlost," "Laddie," ( <3 ) the "Curdie" books, "The Five Children and It," "The Phoenix and the Carpet," and "A Little Princess," to name a few. They both did different voices for different characters, and we all laughed and quoted them together. All of us kids ended as bookworms, and all of us love fantasy. Looking at the big picture, having a tough time explaining things is nothing in comparison with the chance of giving children their first taste of fantasy.
I found out pretty quickly once I was there that fantasy was not D. or S.'s "thing." I mean, they read fairytales to the children and had lots of storybooks...so nothing to be too concerned about....*grin* D. told me that he was not read to as a child (.."oh, you poor deprived child!), and, as he said, "Fantasy has nothing to do with life, so...why?" That's pretty much how S. feels too. They are amazing godly people, and I guess what I get from fantasy they just get naturally from their Bibles; or, perhaps, they just don't need what I get from fantasy. I don't know. I can't really imagine being like that. But they, especially S., wanted them to be introduced to Narnia.
I wish I could go on to explain how fantasy is truly relevant to our world, but I can't. I didn't know how to explain it to them, and I still don't. To me, as I've mentioned before, fantasy is more real than the world I see around me. Fantasy helps me understand the world, and it gives me strength to face each battle. While I love familiarity and comforts, I have a certain horror of normality. By which I guess I mean monotony. I don't want to just cruise through life. I want my life to count for something. I want to have adventures and make an impact on people's lives. I may never step through a wardrobe or save a world, but to live your life for Christ is true greatness.
Oh, and one more thing. Tigers are also cool to me for two different reasons. One is that the stuffed tiger shown behind my blog name is a special buddy of mine. He's Purr, who I've mentioned before. Several years ago, my sister and I "saved up our money," so we could buy a Pillow Pal. (Remember those, 90's kids?) Mother took us to the store, and the whole back wall had shelves full of Pillow Pals.
I marched confidently forward. I had eleven whole dollars, and I knew just exactly what little friend I wanted. Waves, the orca. I scanned the shelves. Then...there on the left just at my level was a pile of beautiful tigers. I stared at them. Tigers! Reluctantly I drew my eyes away and continued looking for the Waves-es. There they were, far out of my reach at the top. I looked back at the tigers. A tiger would be much nicer to cuddle than a whale. I wavered; after all I had been sure I'd wanted Waves. Would I regret it? I opened one of the tiger's tags to see the name. Purr. Purr the tiger. My heart melted, and doubt vanished. I pulled the one that looked most appealing out of the pile, and I paid for him and went home proud as punch. My sister had found the sweetest rabbit named Clover, but when I looked at Purr, I didn't envy her a bit. I've never regretted it since. Purr is my special buddy, and I (shhh, don't tell anyone) still sleep with him every night.
Tigers are also special to me because my brother introduced me to Calvin and Hobbes before I could read. We spent hours together poring over Calvin and Hobbes books. He would read them to me and explain them if he could. I would follow along by studying the pictures, and most of the time, I could tell who was saying what. Lots of times we didn't understand the punch lines, and I couldn't understand every one he tried to explain. But we had fun together, and so the tradition continued. Once I learned to read, we'd take turns reading the different characters. We got new books for Christmas and birthdays, and we devoured them together. And of course, as we got older, we grew in our understanding, and would laugh ourselves sick in earnest. I'm convinced that Calvin and Hobbes has got to be the greatest comic ever, and I loved how I had my own stuffed tiger just like Calvin did. We screamed in laughter over the brilliant pictures and expressions, and of course we were quick to memorize whole pages. But the real fun came when we were older and began to see connections between daily situations and Calvin and Hobbes comics. We would think of the same one at precisely the same instant, and we'd look at each other and say the punch line, or just burst out laughing. It drove our parents crazy sometimes, but to me it was the wonderfullest thing in the world. Until the same thing started happening with all our siblings in all the movies, books, and tapes that we shared. Everything had some connection, and each of us got it. Three of us are adults now, and the other two are teenagers, but we still can get lost in our own language. Having a family like mine is one of the greatest blessings that God gave me.
~Cadenza
By the way, did I ever tell you that I read the first two Narnia books to Brownie and Bud while I was there? Yeah...and I started with "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe." Then I immediately began "Prince Caspian." I don't really think it would be so bad if you started with, "The Magician's Nephew," but I had to consider my audience. A seven and five year old...hmmmm.
It was a good thing I did, too. "What's a wardrobe?" "What's a professor?" "Now who is Susan again?" And that was the first book. In the second book, I nearly tore my hair out trying to explain what was going on. Not because they didn't just know, but because I was trying my hardest to help them understand, and nothing was working! It was horrible! And....have you ever tried to explain the treachery of the Lords Glozelle and Sopespian to a seven and five year old? Oh. My. Gosh.
But, you know, that's okay! Sure it was frustrating for me, but the whole idea was to give them their first taste of fantasy. That was thrilling for me. No, of course they couldn't understand it all; that wasn't the point. If they understood some of it and liked it, then they'll want more as they get older, and they'll probably read the rest of them! I remember my first taste of fantasy was when my father read those books aloud to us when we were little. My brother cried when Aslan was killed, and I was devastated. And yeah, in Prince Caspian, I didn't have a clue what was going on. But what little I could understand, and the even fewer bits that stuck with me were beautiful. Even if I couldn't understand, I just loved hearing my father read to us. It was a special time. Same with my mother. I can't begin to count how many books my mother read aloud to us when we were kids. She picked wonderful books. She read us "Pollyanna," and "Anne of Green Gables," "Freckles," "Girl of the Limberlost," "Laddie," ( <3 ) the "Curdie" books, "The Five Children and It," "The Phoenix and the Carpet," and "A Little Princess," to name a few. They both did different voices for different characters, and we all laughed and quoted them together. All of us kids ended as bookworms, and all of us love fantasy. Looking at the big picture, having a tough time explaining things is nothing in comparison with the chance of giving children their first taste of fantasy.
I found out pretty quickly once I was there that fantasy was not D. or S.'s "thing." I mean, they read fairytales to the children and had lots of storybooks...so nothing to be too concerned about....*grin* D. told me that he was not read to as a child (.."oh, you poor deprived child!), and, as he said, "Fantasy has nothing to do with life, so...why?" That's pretty much how S. feels too. They are amazing godly people, and I guess what I get from fantasy they just get naturally from their Bibles; or, perhaps, they just don't need what I get from fantasy. I don't know. I can't really imagine being like that. But they, especially S., wanted them to be introduced to Narnia.
I wish I could go on to explain how fantasy is truly relevant to our world, but I can't. I didn't know how to explain it to them, and I still don't. To me, as I've mentioned before, fantasy is more real than the world I see around me. Fantasy helps me understand the world, and it gives me strength to face each battle. While I love familiarity and comforts, I have a certain horror of normality. By which I guess I mean monotony. I don't want to just cruise through life. I want my life to count for something. I want to have adventures and make an impact on people's lives. I may never step through a wardrobe or save a world, but to live your life for Christ is true greatness.
Oh, and one more thing. Tigers are also cool to me for two different reasons. One is that the stuffed tiger shown behind my blog name is a special buddy of mine. He's Purr, who I've mentioned before. Several years ago, my sister and I "saved up our money," so we could buy a Pillow Pal. (Remember those, 90's kids?) Mother took us to the store, and the whole back wall had shelves full of Pillow Pals.
I marched confidently forward. I had eleven whole dollars, and I knew just exactly what little friend I wanted. Waves, the orca. I scanned the shelves. Then...there on the left just at my level was a pile of beautiful tigers. I stared at them. Tigers! Reluctantly I drew my eyes away and continued looking for the Waves-es. There they were, far out of my reach at the top. I looked back at the tigers. A tiger would be much nicer to cuddle than a whale. I wavered; after all I had been sure I'd wanted Waves. Would I regret it? I opened one of the tiger's tags to see the name. Purr. Purr the tiger. My heart melted, and doubt vanished. I pulled the one that looked most appealing out of the pile, and I paid for him and went home proud as punch. My sister had found the sweetest rabbit named Clover, but when I looked at Purr, I didn't envy her a bit. I've never regretted it since. Purr is my special buddy, and I (shhh, don't tell anyone) still sleep with him every night.
Tigers are also special to me because my brother introduced me to Calvin and Hobbes before I could read. We spent hours together poring over Calvin and Hobbes books. He would read them to me and explain them if he could. I would follow along by studying the pictures, and most of the time, I could tell who was saying what. Lots of times we didn't understand the punch lines, and I couldn't understand every one he tried to explain. But we had fun together, and so the tradition continued. Once I learned to read, we'd take turns reading the different characters. We got new books for Christmas and birthdays, and we devoured them together. And of course, as we got older, we grew in our understanding, and would laugh ourselves sick in earnest. I'm convinced that Calvin and Hobbes has got to be the greatest comic ever, and I loved how I had my own stuffed tiger just like Calvin did. We screamed in laughter over the brilliant pictures and expressions, and of course we were quick to memorize whole pages. But the real fun came when we were older and began to see connections between daily situations and Calvin and Hobbes comics. We would think of the same one at precisely the same instant, and we'd look at each other and say the punch line, or just burst out laughing. It drove our parents crazy sometimes, but to me it was the wonderfullest thing in the world. Until the same thing started happening with all our siblings in all the movies, books, and tapes that we shared. Everything had some connection, and each of us got it. Three of us are adults now, and the other two are teenagers, but we still can get lost in our own language. Having a family like mine is one of the greatest blessings that God gave me.
~Cadenza
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