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At the same time, certain works of art—films, paintings,
novels, poems, songs, sculptures, plays, novels, and more—seem to touch
us on levels that we intuitively understand go deeper then mere entertainment.
As J.R.R. Tolkien pointed out, “it is possible, I think, to be moved
by the power of myth and yet to misunderstand the sensation, to ascribe it
wholly to something else that is also present: to metrical art, style, or verbal
skill.” There is something at work that goes beyond even the skill of
the artist. It’s almost as though they are tapping into something true
and universal, something that links us all.
The thirst for meaning that C.S. Lewis called the “inconsolable
longing” remains, but the wells where we drink seem dry or lost. Society
itself seems wounded. Meanwhile, our individual anxieties reveal themselves
in spiraling divorce rates, the breakdown of the family, teen suicides, mental
illness, marginalization of the arts, the deterioration of education, and corporate
scandals.
More, our individual neuroses manifest themselves on the
world stage, too. The fact that these problems aren’t new doesn’t
lessen their critical severity.
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