Meeting Dostoevsky

Every time I open that last book of his, he tells me that before I go any further, I must submit to the lens of the only beautiful type of suicide, the kind that brings life. The epigraph to The Brothers Karamazov  frames what’s to come in the words spoken and incarnated by Christ: thatContinue reading “Meeting Dostoevsky”

Waiting, Meaning, Kingdom

“I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets. Scorched to the root My red filaments burn and stand, a hand of wires.”-Sylvia Plath, “Elm” It haunts acutely when she travels alone. A girl, eyes fixated out and beyond, knifed by meaning and meaninglessness. The rhythmic lull of a Soviet era train hums her to thought asContinue reading “Waiting, Meaning, Kingdom”

To Be Too Conscious

 “I swear, gentlemen, that to be too conscious is an illness — a real thorough-going illness.” –The Underground Man, Notes from the Underground, Fyodor Dostoevsky. There is truth in the words of the Underground Man; over-consciousness can drive us to despair, to depression, to step heavily through each day to the beat of Ecclesiastes’ moansContinue reading “To Be Too Conscious”