I am thoroughly enjoying reading C.S. Lewis' diary starting from 1922. It is not only interesting because it is his early years at Oxford and I know many of the places he describes because I have been there myself (which, by the way, is pretty exciting for the bookish nerd that I am, with Lewis being one of my absolute favourites), but also because this diary is from his pre-Christian life. Lewis did not become a Christian until about 1929 (there is debate that it was 1930 because Lewis was bad at recollecting dates, but all in all it doesn't make a huge difference). Some of his passages are full of his thoughts of a spiritual nature, debates with friends, or love of myth and story. His reading of literature was so wide and fast. He read half a book in an afternoon, it seems. How did he read so quickly and so well?
Every once in a while in an entry, I will catch a glimpse of Lewis mentioning joy or a slight feeling of the joy, but then it is gone and he goes back to describing his walk into Oxford and his bike ride here or there to meet someone for tea, and the long walks with his friends. It is interesting to read about what catches his fancy at that stage in his life at Oxford and how easily he dismisses those brief sensations of joy, or as he writes a "whiff of the real joy, but only momentary."
I wonder what he referred to when thinking of the real joy. It is interesting he phrases it that way, especially given his love for myths. What was he thinking about when experiencing the momentary joy? He was an avid reader, and quite a critique of all that he read, including his own work.
Lewis references his own writing frequently, talks about it with friends, and writes about those conversations (including complaints) in his diary. He writes this about a good conversation with a friend about myth:
"We agreed that the great thing was to keep the Myth true and intrude as little invention or conscious allegory as might be."
He was so focused on keeping the myth true and shaping the story around it but failed to see how that same thing was real. He somehow did not see what was right in front of him. Or he chose not to see. Almost exactly what he was studying and focusing on was where his answer was. But perhaps he wasn't asking the questions at that point. I am reading this with a friend, and we keep bringing up interesting points to one another, and it is opening my eyes even more to Lewis, so I am sure more thoughts will flow out onto this page as a result.
How many of us stare at something in the face for so long that we begin to see right through it as if it were glass instead of causing us to stop and ponder? How many people do you do that with? How many situations each day? How about in ourselves? Refusing to see what we need to work on?
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