Mane. Aslan and dreads.

When I’ve got the dreads, the fear that I can’t do this, that I’m not moving fast enough, that I need to give up and go ‘get a job’ … i will frequently hear this…

Courage, dear Heart.

Its loving. supportive, as in literally supporting my motions in the world. and i hear it, like one hears a car drive by.

its Aslan to one of the girls, probably Lucy… and it informs many of my days, even when i’m not conscious of it.
The Chronicles of Narnia are my foundational text. all of them. for their faith in being cared for, by some magnanimous and mostly-absent Lion figure. (aside: would it have been so powerful had He been a mouse? a woodchuck? of course not, but the humility would have taught us all something, too, and maybe done a world of good in subverting some things that need to be subverted…)

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But that is a whole other thing.

It is something to the faith dilemma i find myself in, and the divorce i went through, and the quest for understanding myself and in operation with men . i’m still looking for the lion. the one who watches and swoops when i’ve fallen, to carry me away somewhere, to tell me its going to be allright… to have courage…

my connection with my preteen and teen selves and the magic within these stories is visceral. and i’m reminded its been a few years since i’ve dipped my toes back in. i remember so clearly the Christmas of sickness, when i watched the british ‘fancy’ movie of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe… crying and feeling the moment of sharing it with my ill babes . . . it was the most honest sharing of my religious faith i could have given my kids.  (and it was a movie. TAAADAAAAAA!)

It felt so holiday magic heavy, i couldn’t really believe it was my own life i was experiencing. all of my family sleeping as a pack in the gimmiepap pullout bed. blankets and warmth absurdia. It is still a clear bellringer for me of a happy fulfilled moment.

and now, when i find myself adrift, and yes, its an adventure but it is too lonng sometimes, and i lose my courage for it daily, i’m still drawn to the warmth and tuft of the mane.
the mane. what a glorious impression to have made on a young girl. thank you, c.s. lewis. thanks so much.


7 thoughts on “Mane. Aslan and dreads.”

  1. Oh how I love C.S. Lewis and all the stories he tells! This post was magical if not nostalgic for me too. Thanks for sharing!

    1. One step, with courage, is all it takes!! (well, sometimes its a stumble, but movement… movement!!)

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