Wanderlust

Warning: This post contains material of a nerdy nature.

In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war...
- 2 Samuel 11:1a

The pleasures of spring have been jawed about so often that I am rather shy of saying anything about the lovely weather that has succeeded to the snow here. Do you know what it feels like when you go out for the first time without an overcoat and feel all the nerves funny up the back of your legs and see the clouds blowing about a really blue sky? All the same I know spring too well to really like her. She invariably makes you feel lonely & dissatisfied & long for “The land where I shall never be, the love that I shall never see”*.
- C.S. Lewis, Letter of February 20, 1917 to Arthur Greeves
* Paraphrasing Andrew Lang’s History of English Literature (1912)

Although I see my love every day, and although I live in one of the most beautiful parts of the world, I sympathize with Lewis. The arrival of Spring tends to produce in me a sense of longing. This longing has no specific object. Its manifestations are various. Sometimes at work, as I idly stare out the window, Spring whispers in my mind’s ear: “How great would it be if you walked out right now? No two-week notice, no clocking out, no ‘Goodbye, Susan. You’ve been a great manager.’ Just leave. Close your bank accounts, go to Bass Pro, and spend everything on supplies. Then head for some uninhabited mountain and spend the rest of your life living off the land. It would be awesome!” On Sundays, as my family and I drive home from church, she says, “Don’t go home. Roll down the windows and keep driving until the gas runs out.” Spring makes me want to listen to music of a different sort, read epic stories of adventure, go places I’ve never been, sleep on the ground, and eat meat cooked over an open flame. She leads my imagination through time and space to lands of great heroism. My thoughts are filled with kings, knights, explorers, pioneers, cowboys, soldiers, angels, monsters, and yes, hobbits.

It is a fair tale, though it is sad, as are all the tales of Middle-earth, and yet it may lift up your hearts.
- Aragorn, The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien (1965)

I am reading the Trilogy for the third time. My first and second readings were also in the Spring. I suppose that the richness of Tolkien’s work comes through in new ways with each visit. This time, however, it seems like I am aware of every detail. It has been seven Springs since my last foray into those blessed pages. I have, of course, kept contact with the peoples of Middle-earth through Peter Jackson’s incredible films, Rankin-Bass’ and Saul Zaentz’ trippy, yet charming cartoons, and the BBC’s thirteen hour radio drama, but none of these are as vastly beautiful as the original work. Because of these retellings, I have memorized the basic plot, but there is so much more to be found. Having re-read The Silmarillion and The Hobbit a couple of months ago, the history of Middle-earth and the Ring is fresh in my mind. When characters refer to Gil-galad, Tinuviel, Elendil, and even Sauron, I know the stories behind those names.

A college classmate of mine once described his high school library’s shortcomings by stating: “Our first copy of The Lord of the Rings had pictures from the movie on the cover!” My personal library is more fortunate. The books themselves are visibly well-loved. I received the 1978 “Revised Edition” paperbacks as a gift from my uncle. The covers are Dijon mustard yellow with red titles, a black Tolkien signature, and a small graphic of the Ring and its Elvish inscription surrounding the Eye of Sauron. The cover of each book is held together with clear packing tape. The pages are yellowing, with edges worn like a favorite pack of cards. The Kelly green box in which they reside is similarly worn, yet perfectly intact. Yes, this collection will surely hold a place in my heart and on my bookshelf until it is bequeathed to another.

You will have to excuse my adoring tangent. But, as is said of Aragorn:

Not all those who wander are lost.
- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

And, as I have already stated, Spring inspires wandering. I read Tolkien in the Spring, because he both fuels and fulfills my longing. His work is laced with natural beauty, music, friendship, history, legend, and adventure: the very embodiment of the Spirit of Spring.

There are many lands “where I shall never be”, but that should not stop me from exploring the mountains, rivers, caves, and forests of my bookshelf, my imagination, and my beautiful Ozark home.

[Bilbo] used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary.
- Frodo, The Fellowship of the Ring


So I'm packing my bags for the Misty Mountains where the spirits go now, over the hills where the spirits fly.
- Led Zeppelin, "Misty Mountain Hop", The fourth album (1971)

I think I’ll take my girls on a hike this weekend.