Lewis wrote of the feeling he described as “northernness,” and tied it to the human longing for Joy. Imagine my happiness when, in college, I realized that I was not alone in these feelings. Know it when I feel it, but it’s incredibly hard to put into words. It is there in Christmastide, and there are a number of other stories, songs and books that kindle the flam. This feeling or mood is indescribable, but I always feel a yearning for it. There is one time of the year in which both of these moods always combine seamlessly into one blissful tapestry, like Eden and Valhalla rolled into one: Christmas. Along with this prevailing mood, I also have strong memories of a feeling of remoteness or distantness it is a feeling of magic created by stories of King Arthur or knights in shining armor, a feeling of strong nobility and epic deeds. This feeling is also tied inseparably with memories of my mother singing the song “In the Garden” many times. Somehow, it’s not the memory itself that matters, but the feeling of supreme peace and perfection that the memory calls to mind. I don’t know if this is one memory or a series of memories mashed together in my mind. The quiet of the morning was broken only by the chirping of birds and, from the wooded hill behind our house, the unearthly song of the whippoorwill. The light was shining softly through the curtained windows, and the bed was cool. One of my earliest memories is of waking up in my parents’ bed when I was very young.
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