On Attraction

A while back I happened upon a note on Facebook by a gal complaining that women who aim for purity and eschew casual sex and drunkenness are "ignored by guys." "I used to wear more frumpy clothes and no makeup," she explained. "These kind of actions get guys to be friends," but romantic interest is slim. "But if a female is drinking, being sexy by her dancing or clothes this is the woman that men try to get." It is a complaint I have heard before, in one form or another, so I thought I would share my response with the wider blogosphere:

I think you've rather misrepresented the kind of attention men give. Singer/songwriter Rosie Thomas has one of the most amazing voices I have ever heard. When she's singing, that is. When she's talking she sounds, well, dorky at best. Her fashion sense is... not exactly hip. Last summer, when announcing on the news section of her website that she would be getting married, she wrote, "I was ready to adopt 14 cats and 10 children and then Mr. Shoop came along."

By the "usual" standards, she would seem a fairly unattractive gal. But, on the contrary, I think mine was not the only heart just a little bit broken when I saw she was tying the knot. She's a very attractive gal, not because she dresses in some sexy outfit or saunters about the stage.

She's attractive because of the personal bits of outtakes she includes on the end of tracks. You can hear her laughing, kidding around with her friends. You think, "This is someone I'd like to know."

She's attractive because you quickly realize that the woman you see and hear is a real woman, not a personality manufactured by her agent. She sells hand-made crafts and knitting and things she's done after shows. What kind of self-respecting recording artist does that?!? But this is who she is.

And she's attractive because she cares about other people. Her latest album ends with a whole track of her thanking family, friends and fans for their support, and wishing them all the best. Last year a friend of mine was able to attend a show that I was not, but picked up a CD and mailed it to me. On the inside was a note that read, "Aaron - Merry Christmas! You are loved. ♥ Rosie." Not only did she take the time to write it, but you believe it might be true.

I'd write all this off a my own crazy personality, but I've heard the same from other fans: Rosie is the real deal, and that's highly attractive.

And it's not just Rosie Thomas. Real women who are kind, sincere, thoughtful and maybe just a little goofy are DEEPLY attractive, and anyone who is worth having around will tell you as much.

Don't settle for cheap attention; it's not worth it. And anyone who really wants your attention will happily strive for purity, for your sake and his.

Sarah Smith of Golders Green

It has been many years since I read The Great Divorce, but a few months ago I happened upon a quotation of one of its scenes and I have been paraphrasing it to various people ever since. But I finally decided one Sunday morning to dig out my copy, dust it off, and share the scene with all of you:

First came bright Spirits, not the Spirits of men, who danced and scattered flowers - soundlessly falling, lightly drifting flowers, though by the standards of the ghost-world each petal would have weighed a hundred-weight and their fall would have been like the crashing of boulders. Then, on the left and right, at each side of the forest avenue, came youthful shapes, boys upon one hand, and girls upon the other. If I could remember their singing and write down the notes, no man who read that score would ever grow sick or old. Between them went musicians: and after these a lady in whose honour all this was being done.

I cannot now remember whether she was naked or clothed. If she was naked, then it must have been the almost visible penumbra of her courtesy and joy which produces in my memory the illusion of a great and shining train that followed her across the happy grass. If she were clothed, then the illusion of nakedness is doubtless due to the clarity with which her innermost spirit shone through her clothes. For clothes in that country are not a disguise: the spiritual body lives along each thread and turns them into living organs. A robe or a crown is there as much one of the wearer's features as a lip or an eye.

But I have forgotten. And only partly do I remember the unbearable beauty of her face.

‘Is it?... is it?’ I whispered to my guide.

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘It’s someone ye’ll never have heard of. Her name on Earth was Sarah Smith and she lived at Golders Green.’

‘She seems to be... well, a person of particular importance?’

‘Aye. She is one of the great ones. Ye have heard that fame in this country and fame on Earth are two quite different things.’

‘And who are these gigantic people… look! They’re like emeralds.. who are dancing and throwing flowers before her?’

‘Haven’t ye read your Milton? A thousand liveried angels lackey her.’

‘And who are all these young men and women on each side?’

‘They are her sons and daughters.’

‘She must have had a very large family, Sir.’

‘Every young man or boy that met her became her son – even if it was only the boy that brought the meat to her back door. Every girl that met her was her daughter.’

‘Isn’t that a bit hard on their own parents?’

‘No. There are those that steal other people’s children. But her motherhood was of a different kind. Those on whom it fell went back to their natural parents loving them more. Few men looked on her without becoming, in a certain fashion, her lovers. But it was the kind of love that made them not less true, but truer, to their own wives.’

~The Great Divorce, Chapter XII

Delighting in Beauty

When trying to make sense of the soul-less lives I see around me, I realized how few people take delight in beauty.

I think - I could be wrong about this - that the reason is that most people are atheists and egotists. Not in the sense that they would philosophically deny the existence of God or that they are haughty and pompous. But in their world there is no God and even the people around them are fairly uninteresting, unengaging. The cosmos is, for them, dead. If there is to be anything interesting in their lives, they have to generate it. (I am reminded, in stark contrast, of the scene near the end of That Hideous Strength where the pantheon of gods appears. The vibrancy of life they share with our human characters is just stunning.) For such atheists and egotists, it is hard to notice the beauty of a sunset, and even harder to see it as a love letter from a pursuing God. The very act of taking delight in something is to admit that we are not alone, that a world exists beyond ourselves.

For some of us, that is a great pleasure. But for many, that is hard to fathom. So my new goal is to share with others my delight in the world that is not me.


PS One of my favorite columnists, Susie Boyt, recently mentioned a collection of essays about the poetry of Keats, titled The Power of Delight, by John Bayley. Perhaps I shall pick it up some day.