MEDITATION IN A TOOLSHED by C.S. Lewis
I was standing today in the dark toolshed.
The sun was shining outside and through the
crack at the top of the door there came a
sunbeam.
From where I stood that beam of light, with
the specks of dust floating in it, was the
most striking thing in the place.
Everything else was almost pitch-black.
I was seeing the beam, not seeing things by
it.
Then I moved, so that the beam fell on my
eyes.
Instantly the whole previous picture vanished.
I saw no toolshed, and (above all) no beam.
Instead I saw, framed in the irregular cranny
at the top of the door, green leaves moving
on the branches of a tree outside and beyond
that, ninety-odd million miles away, the sun.
Looking along the beam, and looking at the
beam are very different experiences.
But this is only a very simple example of
the difference between looking at and looking
along.
A young man meets a girl.
The whole world looks different when he sees
her.
Her voice reminds him of something he has
been trying to remember all his life, and
ten minutes' casual chat with her is more
precious than all the favours that all other
women in the world could grant.
He is, as they say, "in love".
Now comes a scientist and describes this young
man's experience from the outside.
For him it is all an affair of the young man's
genes and a recognized biological stimulus.
That is the difference between looking along
the sexual impulse and looking at it.
When you have got into the habit of making
this distinction you will find examples of
it all day long…
