Because everyone loves a good story
What Does Your Brain Look Like?
Gears and ivy.
That’s what my brain looks like. If you could peek into my head (which I strongly advise against), I think you’d see cogs and gears—antique and tarnished but still madly churning—with tendrils of ivy growing on, around, and within the machine.
Why gears and ivy?
I can’t be sure, exactly, but I feel like C.S. Lewis is to blame. He is what John Piper called a “romantic rationalist.” His logic and analysis were impeccable, thanks to his voracious reading and his classical education. (I’m lookin’ at you, The Great Knock.) But he also saw life through the eyes of a dreamer and a lover. He peopled (or creatured?) his literary world with characters from mythology and his own imagination. Even his mundane experiences were shot through with rays of joy and longing. Yet somehow he seamlessly blended these seemingly-incompatible tendencies.
Now, hear me, and hear me good: I’m not comparing my brain to Jack’s. He’s as far out of my league as Aragorn felt to Eowyn. All I’m saying is that, because I’ve steeped my brain in so much Lewis, I feel like my brain has started to acquire some of the same rudimentary components. My gears are antique and tarnished—probably brass—because any reasoning I know I learned from “old dead dudes.” I’m an old soul trapped in a body that will catch up soon enough, I’m sure. My cogs and gears are churning madly, albeit inefficiently and smokily at times, overanalyzing the snot out of most things. Think along the lines of:
“Good morning!” said Bilbo, and he meant it.
“What do you mean?” [Gandalf] said. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”
My poor husband.
But there is ivy abounding in my brain, green leaves of dreams, tendrils of fantasy, and sinuous vines of darker things—fears, quirks, and sadness. It seems like these would overpower the workings of the machine, bringing rational thought to a screeching halt. But it doesn’t. Somehow, the gears and the ivy can coexist. And for that, I blame (and thank) C.S. Lewis.
And Tolkien, too. I’m sure you’ve already suspected that based on my allusions here, but I wanted most of the credit to go to Lewis because he was my first love.
My poor husband once again.
But that is quite enough about me! What about you? If I could peek into your mind, what would it be made out of? Don’t be shy, and don’t feel obligated to write a novel about it. Just jot down whatever you think, because I’d love to hear from you!
12 Comments on “What Does Your Brain Look Like?”
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Ok, so I’m not going to answer this question about my brain because it’s way too complex and I’m not sure how to even put it into words. I’m just writing on here because I’m your first, or maybe (second to your parents) super fan. Ok ok..I probably can’t take that title, but I did know you before Mark. I’m so excited about you doing this blog. I have never met anyone as talented as you in writing and being able to put our life’s experiences into words. Gabe Guerra is up there with you as well…..I’m a fan of him as well and you were his teacher. I’m waiting for your first book, I’m looking forward to having it put on my living room book shelf, front and center……I will be so bragadocious(I’m sure this is not a word and if it is, it’s spelled wrong). Sooooo, with all that being said, it’s time to see what my hubby has to say about his brain on this blog. I will always consider myself your biggest fan and somewhat a stalker(a good stalker if that’s possible). Love you, Emma Sue
Trinette, you are too cute! Thank you so much for that rave review!! Lord willing, I will produce a book worthy of your shelf. With friends like you cheering me on, how can I go wrong?? 😉 Thank you for stalking my blog! That means the world to me. 🙂
I am beyond THRILLED about this. Oh my, how the world needs your words. Especially me!
I’m beyond thrilled about this too, especially about the fact that you’ll be joining me, Amanda dear!! 😀
Needing to be brave here, nothing quite alluring as your other guests comments. I’ve truly not given much thought to my brain, ivy or cogs. It feels full most days, like one more piece of information will spill over like the falls at Niagra, falling into an ocean, never to be seen again.
I’m looking forward to your blog my dear. Happy writing
I totally know what you mean, Jill! When my brain feels on the verge of spilling over, I usually walk around muttering my to do list to myself lest it get washed away from me. Thanks so much for following my blog! 🙂
I’m in awe of those many crevices, and gears that occupy that brain of yours.
Mine on the other hand, the gears are starting to rust and sometimes have plans of there own. And the ivy is overgrown. I imagine it’s covered like those beautiful ivy covered homes I’ve always wished to live in.
But Miss Emily you have so much more rooms to fill. I can’t wait to see what GOD is going to fill them with.
Miss you.
Thank you so much, Mitzie! I can’t wait to see what God is up to as well! 🙂 And my GOAL is to have one of those overgrown-ivy minds one of these days. Much more creative. 😉
My brain you ask? Well, as your husband this will be no surprise to you but maybe others will relate. I have always imagined my brain as an empty shell….but wait there’s more. Imagine the brain is hollow and pink inside but there are file cabinets everywhere. All the drawers are open and papers are spilling out everywhere! There’s at least a million versions of me trying to sort the papers and none of them know what they are doing or where the papers go! And the closer I come to something important (like a test) the slower the workers get, until the very last minute they dig through the papers and find something passable to submit. They all wipe their brows from the sweat of pressure, take a nap, and go back to the impossible task of sorting my brain.
I know those filing cabinets you’re talking about! I think I have a room full of those too, somewhere under the gears. 😉 But the handy and practical side of your brain is WAY more organized than mine, so we make a great team!
My younger self’s brain was once a lush meadow filled with whimsy and fanciful creatures. Not a cog in sight. Not a whiff of a gear whatsoever. My current self’s brain (many years later) resembles Sherlock’s dimly lit, cluttered space with both dust and possibly even moldy food left lying out on a tray. A mad scientist is always wheeling about frantically in a disheveled housecoat (with mismatched socks) while rifling through a large antique medicine cabinet or various files of childrearing tidbits.
Ha! I love the mad scientist in his mismatched socks! This is classic. Thank you for the reply!