Do you ever feel as though you're a part of a story? That just around the edges of your awareness are all sorts of things pulling themselves together to show up at just the right time? That unfinished bits - relationships halted by graduation or moves or job changes, unfinished conversations, people dying with things not quite tidied all up, books lent out and not yet returned, strangers met at random that you feel you'll meet again, health issues that just need technology to advance a little further to be cured, and of course, socks dropped behind the dryer - really will wrap themselves up neatly before its all said and done? I do, and I usually tell myself that "unfinishedness" is just part of life... that whatever instinct that has a problem with it needs to be muffled, silenced, and that I need to be okay with life's messiness, brokenness, unresolved endings (and missing socks). Maybe I do.
In college, I had a bunch of music-major friends, and they would play this silly game with each other: one of them would solfege as I have it in the subject line, and wait to see how long it would take before the other music major would just have to finish the unfinished "do"! My music major sister tells me that is ridiculous; contemporary classical music is all about this kind of irresolution. (So me trying it on her had no effect whatsoever, unfortunately!).
In music as in life: I'm thinking there's been a "modern-era" trend toward finding meaning and beauty in the incomplete, rather than seeking completion itself. Perhaps there is something noble in this... but it's bugging me. Is it actually settling for less? Finding a way to be comfortable and happy in the midst of uncomfortable misery? Being content to (as Lewis puts it) play in the mud because we have no idea of what is meant by a seaside vacation? I think he's talking about "uncool" mud (pottery rocks!!); nothing to compare with the coast.
Sorry - this post will be incomplete, because I can argue both ways on it. Can't stand the thought of stagnating. Settling for less than what is possible. Being stuck in my ways. Missing opportunities. Inertia. But... also have major problems with: discontent, frenetic activity, constant, pushing restlessness. Drivenness.
Christianity (at least at the moment) isn't helping me on this one. There's the "beauty" (??) of the journey with all its dangers and difficulties, and the Someone the journey is pointed at. There's the shocking love of the Almighty for the miserable, helpless, wasted, and ugly. There's the abandoned pursuit of joy with the courageous fortitude of fighting that one sin this time. There's the classic verse about "being in but not of the world". What the dilly-yo is that supposed to mean?!! Will all unfinished stories someday come to a satisfying, page-turning, wrap?