angedemystere

[angedemystere]

imagine OP smoking a cigarette and starting into the middle distance

tiktok users went without the app for 14 hours... they would not have survived the great tumblr blackout of 2010

[angedemystere]

Cheering myself up with a photo of the prayer corner in my classroom. I customized the Chosen Jesus funko.

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I dared to watch a vid with more details about the allegations against Neil Gaiman and ... ugh. Even worse than I first thought. If you're not in the know, a Vulture article recently came out where the author interviews his victims. Apparently it discusses some truly disturbing things, so proceed with caution.

Obviously, the harm that this man has inflicted on many people, including his own child, takes priority in this tragedy of a situation. But on a person level, it brought to mind a conversation I had with a professor during my graduate studies. I wrote a story featuring a character who had been through abuse and trauma and became mentally and morally warped as a result, but she also composed incredibly beautiful music. The professor in question was on my thesis committee, and he shared how he found it unbelievable that a person capable of doing terrible things could make such wonderful art.

Gaiman and other artists whose horrible actions have come to light in recent years expose this dangerous fallacy for what it is. Never assume that someone who makes beautiful art that genuinely touches you is automatically a good, or even decent, person. Art does not determine morality.

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I'm so sorry, but have any of you seen the new season 5 sneak peak? Jesus, going out for a walk days before his death, stumbles onto a betrothal celebration and gets roped into dancing while trying to be incognito. So many emotions, and DANG that hood-and-scarf look is working for him (I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so

[angedemystere]

“In our world too, a stable once had something inside it that was bigger than our whole world.” —The Last Battle

Merry Christmas from The Name of Aslan! May your day be filled with Hope, peace, joy, love, and, above all, Christ.

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The fifth candle of advent: CHRIST

"'It isn't Narnia, you know,' sobbed Lucy. 'It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?' 'But you shall meet me, dear one,' said Aslan. 'Are—are you there too, Sir?' said Edmund. 'I am,' said Aslan. 'But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.'" The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C. S. Lewis

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The first candle of advent: HOPE

"Well, you know how it feels if you begin hoping for something that you want desperately badly; you almost fight against the hope because it is too good to be true; you've been disappointed so often before. That was how Digory felt. But it was no good trying to throttle this hope. It might—really, really, it just might be true." The Magician's Nephew, C. S. Lewis

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The second candle of advent: PEACE

"Both the children were looking up into the Lion's face as he spoke these words. And all at once (they never knew exactly how it happened) the face seemed to be a sea of tossing gold in which they were floating, and such a sweetness and power rolled about them and over them and entered into them that they felt they had never really been happy or wise or good, or even alive and awake, before. And the memory of that moment stayed with them always, so that as long as they both lived, if ever they were sad or afraid or angry, the thought of all that golden goodness, and the feeling that it was still there, quite close, just round some corner or just behind some door, would come back and make them sure, deep down inside, that all was well." The Magician's Nephew, C. S. Lewis

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The third candle of advent: JOY

"Thus Aslan feasted the Narnians till long after the sunset had died away, and the stars had come out; and the great fire, now hotter but less noisy, shone like a beacon in the dark woods, and the frightened Telmarines saw it from far away and wondered what it might mean. The best thing of all about this feast was that there was no breaking up or going away, but as the talk grew quieter and slower, one after another would begin to nod and finally drop off to sleep with feet towards the fire and good friends on either side, till at last there was silence all round the circle, and the chattering of water over stone at the Fords of Beruna could be heard once more. But all night Aslan and the Moon gazed upon each other with joyful and unblinking eyes." Prince Caspian, C. S. Lewis

[angedemystere]

The fourth candle of advent: LOVE

"'Ah!' roared Aslan. 'You have conquered me. You have great hearts. Not for the sake of your dignity, Reepicheep, but for the love that is between you and your people, and still more for the kindness your people showed me long ago when you ate away the cords that bound me on the Stone Table (and it was then, though you have long forgotten it, that you began to be Talking Mice), you shall have your tail again.'" Prince Caspian, C. S. Lewis

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I HAVE WAITED ALL YEAR TO POST THIS

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[angedemystere]

Another great example of writing from "The Chosen."

Technically, this isn't from The Chosen. The series' creator made this short film as a stand-alone. It was so popular and well received that it inspired him to create the series.

As I've previously mentioned, I'm a life-long atheist. But I love great storytelling. And this short film is a marvelous example, especially if you write short stories. It's compact but not lean. It reveals its characters and motivations without excess. We connect immediately with the main character. We feel the world he inhabits and how difficult it is for him to move in it. We understand his desires, and how it seems impossible for him to achieve them. His actions show his compassion and empathy.

And, for once, the film depicts what I believe would be an accurate reaction to a visitation by supernatural beings. Too often I've seen characters response to seeing amazing creatures to be no more than if they saw a really cool theme park attraction. "Oh wow. Look at that. Isn't that amazing?"

That shows a lack of imagination of the writer. The writer should ask her or himself, "What are the shepherds seeing?"

The answer is, "Angels from Heaven, sent by God. Angels, the first beings created by God. By God himself, the Creator of all that does and will ever exist. They are seeing beings who, until this moment, they probably considered to be theoretical. Maybe God exists, maybe he has angels, but, y'know, we're living a dirty and hard life, ando we're not seeing any hard and fast evidence of this, so whatever."

And then these Messengers from God appear. A writer shouldn't treat it as if the shepherds are just seeing a bunch of pretty people in clean, shiny robes and wings standing there as if they're regular people in costume.

They should be awe-struck. But most depictions of this scene are short on awe. Most stories in general these days don't know how to depict awe. Because no one seems to feel awe anymore.

The Shepard gets it. Probably because it's written by believers, not by writers who are trying to make a buck on a holiday story they don't take seriously. This story shows very clearly what the visitation of the Heavenly Host feels like. It's not Charlie fucking Brown's Christmas special with Linus saying "and they were sore afraid." We see the terror, and the joy.

The lame shepherd is so ecstatic about what he's seen and heard that he doesn't even notice that he can now walk.

And the last line of the story wonderfully ties it back with the beginning and adds greater resonance.

As a writer, of prose, plays, poetry, or any kind, you can learn so much by great storytelling like this.

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God with us

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— December 18, 1913 / Franz Kafka diaries

[angedemystere]

^ me anticipating season 5

^ also me watching season 5 (probably)

rb if season 5 will end you

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“Now compared to these wanderers [Socrates, Buddha, etc.] the life of Jesus went as swift and straight as a thunderbolt. It was above all things dramatic; it did above all things consist in doing something that had to be done. It emphatically would not have been done, if Jesus had walked about the world for ever doing nothing except tell the truth. And even the external movement of it must not be described as a wandering in the sense of forgetting that it was a journey. This is where it was a fulfilment of the myths rather than of the philosophies; it is a journey with a goal and an object, like Jason going to find the Golden Fleece, or Hercules the golden apples of the Hesperides. The gold that he was seeking was death. The primary thing that he was going to do was to die. He was going to do other things equally definite and objective; we might almost say equally external and material. But from first to last the most definite fact is that he is going to die. No two things could possibly be more different than the death of Socrates and the death of Christ. We are meant to feel that the death of Socrates was, from the point of view of his friends at least, a stupid muddle and miscarriage of justice interfering with the flow of a humane and lucid, I had almost said a light philosophy. We are meant to feel that Death was the bride of Christ as Poverty was the bride of St. Francis. We are meant to feel that his life was in that sense a sort of love-affair with death, a romance of the pursuit of the ultimate sacrifice. From the moment when the star goes up like a birthday rocket to the moment when the sun is extinguished like a funeral torch, the whole story moves on wings with the speed and direction of a drama, ending in an act beyond words.”

–G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man, “The Strangest Story in the World”