Joy Davidson (April 18, 1915 – July 15, 1960)
Joy Davidson originally married C.S. Lewis to avoid being deported after her visa expired. It was a marriage of convenience that turned into something more for both of them, because they fell in love, after she got sick.
I have rectified the time to show her earning a master’s degree from Columbia University in English literature at age 20 (Jupiter). The other planets show up earlier than would have been expected, though, but this could be due to the shortness of her life. She died at age 45. There is one inconjunct.
Sun Inconjunct Ascendant
You may find that no matter how hard you try to show others who you really are, they misunderstand you somehow. This is because the angular relationship between your rising sign and Sun sign indicates that your internal energies are quite different from the energies that you show to the world. You are not intentionally dishonest with the world, you simply present a confusing complex of energies. As you get older, you will learn more about your effect on people, which will enable you to put the two sides of your personality together so that they work smoothly. Be patient and do not hurry. Look at each relationship as an opportunity to learn more about yourself through your effects on others. You will know you have learned this when you no longer attract people who are psychologically difficult to deal with.
Notice how Lewis’ Ascendant is conjunct Joy’s Sun, while her Moon is conjunct his Pluto. Even their Parts of Fortune are conjunct. This was a marriage Made in Heaven. It changed both their lives.
After Joy’s death, Lewis adapted an epitaph he’d written for another, and put it on his wife’s grave.
Here the whole world (stars, water, air,
And field, and forest, as they were
Reflected in a single mind)
Like cast off clothes was left behind
In ashes, yet with hopes that she,
Re-born from holy poverty,
In lenten lands, hereafter may
Resume them on her Easter Day
In the words of Shakespeare, from Romeo & Juliet:
“One thing, however, marriage has done for me. I can never again believe that religion is manufactured out of our unconscious, starved desires and is a substitute for sex. For those few years H. and I feasted on love; every mode of it — solemn and merry, romantic and realistic, sometimes as dramatic as a thunderstorm, sometimes as comfortable and unemphatic as putting on your soft slippers. No cranny of heart or body remained unsatisfied. If God were a substitute for love we ought to have lost all interest in Him. Who’d bother about substitutes when he has the thing itself? But that isn’t what happens. We both knew we wanted something besides one another — quite a different kind of something, a quite different kind of want. You might as well say that when lovers have one another they will never want to read, or eat — or breathe.” (C.S. Lewis – A Grief Observed)