I haven't written in a while. Partly because as of right now... I am pretty sure not 1 person has read or even visited my blog. It really doesn't matter to me though. I almost like the fact that I can write whatever I want and send it out into the public arena and know that... yeah I had to stop that sentence. There is absolutely nothing positive coming after the dot, dot, dot.
I am reading this book by Earnest Hemingway called A Movable Feast. He asks his readers to consider it fiction but then tells us it is about his life, so I guess I have decided that some people's lives are like a work of fiction and fiction is more real then we sometimes consider it. I read in Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis that the main character could not have dreamed up the castle that she saw because she had never seen anything like it in real life and her imagination would have nothing to work with. I never thought of our imagination being a mosaic of real life before that point. In a similar sense all fiction is constructed from real life occurrences, experiences and events.
Maybe unlike myself you have pondered these thoughts before. But have you realized that if we admit this to be true than we are stealing any creative powers man has. If this is true than can man really create anything, so is all that we "create" simply a mosaic of pieces we have seen other places. Where did the first castle builder get his idea for making such an odd looking building? I suppose it grew and grew from the most conventional hoes before it became a castle. I believe that God did call man to create in the creation mandate and that is one reason why I am so certain that I am supposed to be an Entrepreneurship major because it gives me the opportunity and excuse to create. But I suppose there is a fallen state of creativity that we are exerting.
Enough jibberish for one day I suppose.
