Looking for Clover: Our pursuit of Paradise in a wonky world—Desire


Thoughts on Desire from C.S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity:

“The Christian says, Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex.

If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.

If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing.

If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or to be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage.

I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that country and to help others to do the same.”

More to come ….


Looking for Clover: Our pursuit of Paradise in a wonky world—the intro


I love clover. It’s soft and fresh and springy and vibrantly green and is supposed to yield good luck. And though I don’t believe in luck, I want to believe in it—I want it to be real. But I’m after something far better.

I think most of us are seeking clover. What does the doofus mean by clover? Consider clover a metaphor for happiness, peace, satisfaction, fulfillment, significance, the good life—whatever it is that you find yourself longing for, working for, striving to get your mitts on. It’s something that if only you can grasp and make it yours, you’ll have found paradise.

“Everybody’s looking for something.” ~The Eurythmics

Maybe it’s a zeal to leave your mark on this world, to make a difference. Or a drive to achieve a level of success that will allow you and yours to live happily, to live well, to live with freedom. You know what your clover is—or, at least, that you’re seeking something.

My clover search has been a pursuit of joy. As a child and young adult, my clover was thrill seeking and a kind of fun-love, which was really a longing for happiness and truth and approval—from life, from others, from God. Now I’m looking for more, much more.

Can we all admit that we’re looking for something … more? Now, I know some will say that they have everything they need and couldn’t want anything else in life—a loving family, a good living, a favorite fishing hole, amazing friends, whatever.


Better than Nirvana

To them I say, look deeply beyond the laughter, the paycheck, the shiny car, the beer bubbles or wine tannins—look deeper than whatever you think brings you the most happiness, and see if you can honestly say that you long for nothing.

Now there’s nothing wrong with feeling happy. But I’m talking about joy, and there’s a profound difference between the two. Here it is: happiness is dependent on circumstances; joy comes with inner peace. But that’s another subject and a new post.

Like chasing squirrels

There’s nothing wrong with seeking clover. As Americans, we can’t help but do it. It’s sanctioned by our Constitution: Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. But its seeking transcends country and culture. It’s driven by an innate need, a longing for joy. And it’s not optional; we must seek clover. It’s coded in us like chasing squirrels is in dogs.

So why fight it? Search away. But be careful—you may find the wrong stuff. Most clover lacks staying power. It’s everywhere in Spring, but soon dries up, withers and disappears. It looks fresh and green and supple, but isn’t made to last.

Clover: the skinny

Here’s the straight dope—the clover I’m talking about isn’t monetary or upwardly mobile, and it isn’t measurable with numbers or levels of power or respect or earthly freedom. It’s infinitely more valuable.

After all, what could be more precious than something that’s chock-full of joy? Something brimming with significance and truth and selfless love and peace that’s beyond circumstance and limit.

Let’s face it—we’re all looking for something. I call it clover. You may call it something else. We seek something more because we think it—whatever IT is—will make us happy.

No nada

What are you looking for? Some variety of clover? Not sure? I know what you mean. So many species, so much confusion. But consider this—most clover leads to disappointment and regret and, in the end, nothingness.

This series is for those who, whether they know it or not, are actually pursuing Paradise. And they’re doing so in a wonky world. Keep looking. Don’t give up. The search can be an amazing adventure, but it’s also time sensitive. None of us knows how much time we have left to find the real stuff. The clock is ticking. Let’s go.

If this clover idea intrigues you, please comment below. I’d love to hear from you.

Looking for paradise? Just imagine.

I pity those who have no interest in imagining worlds beyond our own. Who think hobbits and dwarves and wizards and magical forests and castles and kingdoms and princesses and courage and adventure and quests and elves and beauty are for nerds and misfits.


As wonderful as our world is—with its waterfalls and mountains and trees and caterpillars and caves and interesting people and cities and seas and reefs, there is something missing. Something magical the world once had, but has lost. This lost magic is what I long for.

Whispered secrets

If I were to wander into an ancient glade with sunlight trickling through leaves to warm a spot of clover upon to lie, I would listen to wind caresses in boughs and trilling leaves. If I could do this while breathing deeply of wood and earth, I might slumber and dream of whispered secrets of what was lost.

Narnia Woods, near the The Kilns, C.S. Lewis home, uber doofus 2004

It’s as if our world, having surrendered to imperfection, endures as a pale reflection of its creation. It became dark and wild and fierce, and paradise fled. The reflection is discernible, but the magic is found only through imagination. That is, until the end when the world is reborn and made young again, and the magic returns and abides forever.

If this article encourages you, please comment below. I love feedback.