I’ve had a few people asking me lately when I’ll write a new blog post because my posts have been few and far between this year. Yes, I realize there’s been minimal activity here… it’s been a little silent on the blog.
If you saw my writing folder on my computer desktop, you would see that I have half a dozen or so half-finished articles, and there are even a few that are in draft-form on my website dashboard, with photos attached and all, but I haven’t been able to feel that internal release to ‘go-ahead-and-press-the-publish-button’. It appears I just don’t want to publish my words these days.
Sometimes, we go through seasons where we need to leave more of the deep, internal words of our heart hidden and un-written on the inside, or at least, just revealed to a few trusted friends or family. Let’s just say it’s been one of those seasons.
Last night, while starting to read the opening pages of a delightful new book on people’s encounters with C.S. Lewis, I stumbled across a quote of Lewis’ that perfectly describes my blog silence. Here it is:
“Those of us who have been true readers all our life seldom fully realize the enormous extension of our being which we owe to authors. We realize it best when we talk with an unliterary friend. He may be full of goodness and good sense but he inhabits a tiny world. In it, we should be suffocated. The man who is contented to be only himself, and therefore less a self, is in prison. My own eyes are not enough for me, I will see through those of others.” (C.S. Lewis, An Experiment in Criticism)
So, that is what I’m doing… my own eyes (and my own words) are not enough for me right now, I will see through those of others.
I may not be writing these days, but I am reading like a parched desert has just met an ocean of others’ words.
Off to the books I go….