Two handfuls of wind

“I was still young and the whole world of beauty was opening before me, my own officious obstructions were often swept aside and, startled into self-forgetfulness, I again tasted Joy. ... One thing, however, I learned, which has since saved me from many popular confusions of mind. I came to know by experience that it is not a disguise of sexual desire. ... I repeatedly followed that path - to the end. And at the end one found pleasure; which immediately resulted in the discovery that pleasure (whether that pleasure or any other) was not what you had been looking for. No moral question was involved; I was at this time as nearly nonmoral on that subject as a human creature can be. The frustration did not consist in finding a "lower" pleasure instead of a "higher." It was the irrelevance of the conclusion that marred it. ... You might as well offer a mutton chop to a man who is dying of thirst as offer sexual pleasure to the desire I am speaking of. ... Joy is not a substitute for sex; sex is very often a substitute for Joy. I sometimes wonder whether all pleasures are not substitutes for Joy.” 
― C.S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy

Humanity has a fascinating capacity for grasping at the limits of sensory experience while depriving themselves - wittingly or unwittingly - of the true potential and limits of sensory experience. The reality of this world is that everything fades, including experiences, memories, and thoughts. Our solution is to grasp at it. The simple fact is that during our striving after this wind we have been consistently lied to.

This lie is best revealed in our willful trading of eternal promises for the very temporary and soon-diminished pleasures of this life, but I have already written about the hope and joyful knowledge of eternity with God and how it ought to balance out our rush to encounter pleasures in this world. I'd like to turn and apply the theory strictly to this life. For the purposes of keeping this short, I'll look briefly at food and dating.

I am a great fan of food, a fact that can be verified visually. I love food, with its abundance and full potential of taste. I love how food, enjoyed in the proper time and manner, cannot lose its savor - every morning and indeed every cup of water presents a new opportunity for the enjoyment of great food. I have long been amazed at the design of the senses so that a little of something partaken of intermittently does not cease to be a fresh experience. A new flower smelled once daily does not cease to be a sweet smell. A lasagna dinner or a bite of ice cream when enjoyed on occasion hold their same savor or sweetness as on the first day you discovered them.

It is true however that too much input for any one sense diminishes how much you enjoy that experience. If I shove a whole pack worth of M&M's into my mouth, I'm given a sudden rush of taste. I'm a few ounces heavier with a few seconds of overwhelming pleasure to show for it, but then I take a drink of water, and what remains then of that taste? To be sure, the sugar continues to affect my body, but the joy I experienced in that rush was fleeting. In a moment even the memory may fade.

I find then that too much sensory bombardment provides fleeting excesses of pleasure followed by long dearths (or as is most often the case, escalated partaking - the adding of one bag of M&M's upon another) and it is therefore a grand deception that we should be led to seek our pleasure in this manner. I find that it is also the case that the same bag of M&M's when broken into small amounts and spread out over time so as to maintain the taste in my mouth would provide a prolonged enjoyment of the chocolate which would encapsulate a greater part of my day's experiences. It seems fair to state that a half hour of chocolate would carry greater value than a brief moment, and if I consume the same amount of chocolate in either case it would seem clear which was the better option.

*As a disclaimer allow me to admit that while I begin to understand these principles now I am far from practicing them well, though I seek to more and more.*

I think the argument works just as well when applied to intoxicating substances. I can easily drink too much alcohol in 10 minutes time and be completely overwhelmed with the sensation of drunkenness and all of its effects (I must disclose that I have never in fact been drunk and so am only an observer of such effects). The sensory rush, the brain-addling, and the loss of inhibitions will come quickly, and I may have a good time for a while. Yet I can nearly guarantee that the speed with which those pleasurable effects came upon me would match or fall short of the speed with which the negative consequences come upon me after. And after I have thrown up and dealt with the hangover (and perhaps other repercussions for what happened while I was drunk), what then have I achieved?

Consider then a moderated use of alcohol, as it is one of very few intoxicating substances which can be taken without immediately becoming high or drunk. Consider what a party would be like if I decided to drink 1 beer each hour over the course of 5 or 6 hours (speaking as a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, that's about all it takes for me to relax) rather than getting wasted and remaining conscious for only an hour or two.  I've now had the opportunity to reap much of the pleasure of alcohol - being relaxed and socializing more easily - but I have traded those brief moments of being overwhelmed for the benefits of staying in control of my decisions and have extended the experience over hours.

I think the principle carries well into other areas. A relationship that begins with holding hands and quickly progresses to kissing, making out, and more is a relationship that quite simply does not achieve the full potential for enjoyment of physical intimacy. It's not for nothing that God commands sex to be kept within marriage. He knows that in our rush to grasp the greatest momentary pleasures immediately we are in fact cheating ourselves of the totality of the joy of closeness we might otherwise realize if we were to linger upon each moment and hour, first with holding hands and then with hugs and so forth. He also knows that the strength and depth of the relationship has a direct influence on the value of physical intimacy. He knew already what so many of us learn in hindsight - that the brain-fog of physical closeness that grows exponentially thicker as things progress physically also obscures and often renders unimportant the need to learn about the person with whom we are spending our time, and cheapens or overrides the sharing of unique experiences, meals, sights, and sounds that ought to be enjoyed in their own right. A mountaintop view, a three course meal, and a concert are simply not enjoyed properly when a couple is only using each location as another location in which to make out.

We are here in this world for a very short time, and we do well to take it to heart. That knowledge should bring about a yearning in each moment to truly grasp from the smallest experiences the most that we can - not to grasp the most experiences that we can and pile it all into one moment. We are not intended for the flood and drought of excessive consumption in any sense, and we allow ourselves to be so tragically cheated by pretending otherwise. Let us therefore daily consider how to make the most of each blessing, knowing that they will pass. Let us remember that they will pass so that we look forward to eternity where we will no longer grasp two handfuls of wind but rather the glorious everlasting Joy, which is all we've been really striving for in the first place.