My Favorite Part of Reading

I don't like to admit it.  It's hard for some reason. My favorite part of reading is choosing a book. Don't get me wrong, a great book is always an amazing time but there is something about the choosing and anticipation of the next book that gets me fidgety.  A quarter of the way through any book, I start looking towards the shelf, eyeing my section of unread books.  It's not that I'm unhappy with my current book.  It's hard to explain.

The only thing that I can compare it to is traveling.  Let's say you had a billionaire uncle and he said, "Here, travel absolutely anywhere you want, it's on me."  Then he added this caveat: "and since I'm such an amazing billionaire uncle, go crazy, go as many different places as you want."   Well, you'd thank your amazing uncle, think about it, and go somewhere amazing like, let's say, I don't know...Bora Bora1.  You land in Bora Bora and you are blown away by the 10,000 different shades of turquoise in your face and the basalt mountain towering in the back ground like a proud, ancient warrior.  The first two days you are saying strange things to people:  "Do you people see these colors?  They don't have colors like this in Kansas.  Are we appreciating this enough?"  You become poetic and spiritual at the same time, "Dear Father, how great is your color wheel, your mercies shine even upon the turquoise starved valleys of my Kansas soul."  Then your mind starts darting strange places very fast like you are in sixth grade and haven't yet developed logic or coherency:  "Should I just wear my snorkeling gear at all times?  I'm sure my wife would think my goggles and flippers during dinner are both cute and practical.  I mean we are always eating right on the water and, well, it'd be great to just go for it between dishes.  I need to mention this to her."

However, on the third day or so, a thought slowly enters your mind.  "Wait a second.  I get to go somewhere after this..."  Such a slow, subtle, euphoric thought.  It's not that you aren't enjoying Bora Bora, there's just an entire world to explore.

In his autobiography, Surprised by Joy, CS Lewis said, "...it is that of an unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction," (italics added).  In a letter to a friend he said it more succinctly, "Our best havings are wantings."
 Lewis is nothing, if not bold.  Essentially what he's saying to me is that my unmet desire for Bora Bora is more joyous than my actual time in Bora Bora.  Or, in the reading world, my standing in line at the midnight book release, sporting my best Ronald Weasly outfit, was more enjoyable than actually reading, The Deathly Hallows.

That makes me uncomfortable.

As I first starting typing these thoughts I was going to straddle the fence.  My thesis was gong to be, "Lewis might be right in most cases but in the Bora Bora and Deathly Hallows echelon of experiences it just doesn't apply.  They are too beautiful, too gripping.  They over shadow the joy of unmet desires."  Now, as I'm writing, I'm not so sure.  I dreamed of Bora Bora for 25 years.  I was reduced to random spats of giggling as I sat in the airport waiting for our flight to Bora Bora.  If you had measured my physiological responses, moments before the first Deathly Hallows book was sold, you would have found all the signs of a heart attack, I'm sure.  The greater the experience, the greater the unmet desire.

I feel like somehow I'm downgrading my BB and DH experience, like they were disappointing in some way.  But that's not truth either.  The joy in unmet desires never downgrades the joy of experience.  It enhances it I think.  If you wanted to side step the issue you could say, "Well, it's just different."  But I think I disagree with that as well.

From a spiritual context, maybe that's the one difference between the Father/Son/Holy Spirit and every other millimeter of matter in the universe.  In Their presence they are the one thing that is truly too beautiful, too gripping to be overshadowed by the joy unmet desires.  They are the one glorious present, the ever resounding NOW.  Forever eliminating, "Where do I get to go next?" 

Lewis closes his autobiography, Surprised by Joy saying, "But what, in conclusion, of Joy? for that, after all, is what the story has mainly been about. To tell you the truth, the subject has lost nearly all interest for me since I became a Christian...."

So who knows, maybe it's not even a conversation worth having.  I think I agree with Lewis, begrudgingly at first, but now with a little more peace.  Any thoughts dear readers?  Any of this coherent? Is an unmet desire a greater joy than the actual experience? 

Thanks for reading,
peace,


td




1. I just got back from Bora Bora on my honeymoon and had been dreaming about it since 5th grade