Impossible things

There is something about early fall days, where the veil between real and imaginary life grows so thin that, like the White Queen in Alice's Looking-Glass, I can sometimes believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast.

Take this morning for example. When I stepped out of my town house, to make the trek to main campus to study I was greeted with a cool air so sweet, that I was absolutely convinced of the existence of magic. I was almost certain that I might come across a door to Narnia just standing there in the middle of the sidewalk. Had I found such a thing, the choice would have been clear, and I definitely wouldn't be sitting on a patio taking a break from homework to blog right now. When presented with the chance to go to Narnia, always go. That's an unbreakable rule in my life.

Other impossible things I've believed this morning? well, as I climbed the Hill,  I knew--believed quite deeply in fact--that out there in the woods somewhere was a little mouse in a green monk's habit, tripping over his too-big hand-me-down sandals as he searches for the sword of a hero.
And while reading about the role of a Christian artist to bring a sense of order to the chaos of this fallen world,  I thought I heard  Tolkien's Song of the Ainur ordering chaos in a newly created world.

What is it about the fall that brings these imaginary dimensions so close to my reality? Does it have to do with the time of my life in which I first discovered them? Did I first read of these worlds in fall weather? Maybe my subconscious remembers this and recreates them at the mere triggers of cool breezes and crisp leaves. I'll probably never know for sure what it is... but what is life with out something to wonder about?


  1. Your kids are going to just LOVE you!!

  2. fascinating. I think the door to Narnia would definitely qualify as "the road not taken" or in your case the road taken. As long as you know where you want to go, the choice is clear.