Slogging Through the Drifts, Creeping Through the Trees
Woke up this morning to a foot of fresh snow. Although I have a 12 mile commute to work, I didn't have any real problems getting there, thanks to 4-wheel drive. It is supposed to keep snowing throughout the day, then turn colder with lake effect snows for the next several days.
Not to go all Dr. Zhivago on you, but snowy days are good for writing. At least, they seem to match my morose, snow-bound writing temperment. The problem is (as always) finding the time to write while working full-time and teaching as an adjunct.
Yesterday in class, we discussed Flannery O'Connor's short story, "The Turkey." The seeming inscrutability of O'Connor's God threw everyone, but my students are so young. I am reminded of Garry Wills' response in What Jesus Meant (Viking, 2006) to that banal question, "What Would Jesus Do?"
"He's God," Wills answers, "and you're not. You have no idea what Jesus might do."
I think of Flannery O'Connor's Jesus--furtive; creeping through the trees.
"Something Awful," indeed.
NOTE: The painting is "Christ in the Garden of Olives" (1889) by Paul Gauguin. Funny, how much Jesus looks like the artist. I think Paul was trying to tell us something.