BitterSweetLife

Warmth sinks deep hooks into a person.

On certain fall days, getting out of the shower seems like leaving home, and I can hardly bring myself to do it. I find myself wondering at how warmth is one of the most addictive sensations in life. In both its physical and spiritual manifestations, one could argue that warmth sinks deeper hooks into a person than, say, adrenalin rushes or pure, edgy pleasure.

The deceptive thing about warmth is that it seems wrong for it to end. No one really expects to remain indefinitely in a state of utopian bliss—the kind that occurs when you sandwich a vicious jam between NBA-deep three-pointers. But when warmth shows up—say, the feeling of serene confidence in one’s hoops skills—we have the feeling that it should last forever. We feel sad, cold, shaky, when it doesn’t.

Switching back to the physical plane, it seems that fall and winter especially highlight this permanent aspect of warmth that should be present but is not. Cold blows in and people scurry desperately for their scarves and have even greater difficulties getting out of bed. On the soul level, there is an equivalent effect; the holidays approach, and we eye our relationships and take stock of their relative closeness or alienation. We examine our lives for traces of warmth, and are either grateful or chilled by what we find.

C.S. Lewis sums up the state of affairs:

The settled happiness and security which we all desire, God withholds from us by the very nature of the world: but joy, pleasure and merriment, He has scattered broadcast. We are never safe, but we have plenty of fun, and some ecstasy. It is not hard to see why…Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home.