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11/10/08 - (1)
Hemingway, the Circus, and Me
Somewhere, once upon a youthful season or so ago, In my moveable-feast journey Through Hemingway's monumentally rich literature,
I heard one of his characters say something to this effect: Religion is whatever makes a person feel good — A blunt, terse belief that fit my collegiate psyche perfectly.
I thought about this dictum, Sunday afternoon — Cold and gray outdoors, in downtown St. Louis, Dazzlingly warm and bright, in the Scottrade Center,
Where white and orange Bengal tigers, elephants, Horses, zebras, dogs (all trained to do impossible feats), Slapstick clowns, stilt walkers, acrobats, dancing beauties
Worked their mystifying magic on my demoralized spirit, Reached deep enough, into my weary soul, to lift it, Imbue me with the spirituality of pure happiness,
Remind me, for a few hours of unadulterated child's glee, That one's church, temple, mosque dwells within, Needs no god, to kindle the light of transcendent delight.
11/10/08 - (1)
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