C.S. Lewis always seems to have something to say to me. The other night I finished a compilation of some of his thoughts in the book, C.S. Lewis On Writing (And Writers) edited by David C. Downing. As I often do with certain authors, especially Lewis, I tend to make notes and copy words and phrases with the hope of being able to reflect on them later.
It was late when I finished, so I set the book aside and crawled into bed. The next morning life happened, as it does, so it was many days later before I had a chance to look into my journal. I was stopped by a phrase I had copied: “the veil of familiarity.” It is from his critique of The Lord of the Rings, written by his very good friend and fellow Oxford Don J.R.R. Tolkien.
In the piece, Lewis examines the idea that myth “takes all the things we know and restores them to the rich significance which has been hidden” by this veil. The true reality all around us can and should be accessed, he says, and reading myths can be one way to do that. The idea that we don’t really see all that is right in front of us but view the world through a somewhat distorted lens seems true to me. Then I considered the various “veils” we tend to look through.
During these tumultuous times, one of the first veils I thought of was the many contentious political worldviews we look through. Of course, I started off by focusing on the veils of my political opposites. “Don’t they understand how blind they are to the things that are actually going on in the world? How can they not see and understand the way I do?”
After that bit of self-satisfied thinking, I grudgingly considered that maybe I also look through a veil when I consider the latest media outrage, opposing party power grab, emerging dangers and/or existential threats facing the world. Could I be seeing only some of the picture? Am I missing a key component of the puzzle? Am I way off base? And maybe the most important question I should keep in my mind — could I possibly be wrong?
Then I thought of looking through veils as I go about in the world. I thought about how familiarity sometimes breeds, if not contempt, at least a sort of ho-hum, incurious, unconcerned view of the world around me. Daily, I walk down the same path seeing the same trees when suddenly the tiniest bit of red in a just emerging white blossom catches my attention. How did I miss that? It was because I wasn’t really looking, I was in my head thinking. The poet William Blake reminds us that we can see the world in a grain of sand and Heaven in a wild flower. We could see, that is if we were not looking through our veils.
Then I considered those people I know and most care about. “Forgive me,” I thought, “I sometimes see you too through a veil of familiarity.” Growing more and more comfortable over time is a natural development in a good relationship. But comfort, like familiarity, can lead us away from being in the moment; from really hearing, really seeing the other person.
Veils of familiarity keep us from seeing clearly, and they keep others from seeing us as we are. Lewis says reading stories, especially myths, is one way for us to drop the veil and see. Perhaps remembering to pay attention to the moment at hand, to the person we are engaging with, is another.
Norman Knight, a retired Clark-Pleasant Middle School teacher, writes this weekly column for the Daily Journal. Send comments to [email protected].
