Last week I was sitting in the living room of a friend surrounded by more friends. It was the coziest scene you could imagine. A cheerful fire crackled inside the log house which was surrounded by deep December snow. There were snacks and tea and we were discussing books. Or rather, certain themes and ideas within books. Some of them were funny and some of them difficult; but we keep hitting on these riveting ideas and themes. I was suddenly reminded of imagery from the first book of the Chronicles of Narnia. I love those books. I read the whole series at least twice a year. It is one of the best examples of powerful writing I can think of. The only thing like it that I’ve found so far are Louis L’Amour books. What a bizarre comparison, right? They both have this sparce and spare style of writing which has the power to create entire worlds in just three sentences.
Anyway, in the first book of the series The Magicians Nephew, there’s this idea of taking what doesn’t belong to you. Or maybe it’s taking things in the wrong. Wrong time, wrong place, wrong intention. There’s this boy, Digory, who has been sent on a quest to heal a wrong that he’s committed. He must find an enchanted fruit in the middle of an enchanted garden. Through his adventures, however, his heart is breaking because he is keenly aware that back home his mother is facing a different, more final type of journey. He finally reaches this sanctuary of a garden, hidden behind solemn walls. Alone, he passes through the gates. He sees the beautiful tree full of impossibly beautiful fruit. With trembling hands, he takes one of the fruits. He puts that magic fruit into his pocket – untasted. But sitting high on one of those forbidding and solemn walls is the villain of the story (the villain aside from Digory himself). She’s sitting there, having just finished one of these fruits. The juice of it is such a shocking stain around her mouth, it reminds you of a vampire after a feast. The magic of the fruit is already working – giving a person their heart’s greatest desire. He sees the magic working powerfully and wonderfully. She’s more beautiful, more powerful, more determined than ever before. It’s obvious that she will never die. But the curse of the magic is that anyone taking it for selfish reasons will find despair along with the fulfilled desire. Her face is deathly white. Infinite years with a dark heart is a broad horizon filled with emptiness. Digory’s first instinct is to RUN. Run out of the garden and past the gates. What else can he do? She’s stronger, more powerful, more magical than he can ever hope to be. Run! But as he runs, she calls out to him. This fruit is powerful. This can give him all he wants. And if not all he desires, at least it can give his mother what she deserves. It can heal! Imagine. Just one bite of that beautiful fruit could heal her, forever. His heart breaks all over again. A thousand shards tearing rivets into his being. And still he runs. To complete his mission. To fiix his mistake (he’s the whole reason the villain is there to steal and trick in the first place). Back onto his flying horse and into the air with Polly, his friend and fellow adventurer. When he finally arrives back, Aslan asks him to take this beautiful, precious, hard-won magical prize and just… toss it. Toss it into the mud. This thing that Digory agonized over. The treasure that could save his mother, give him power, fix all his problems – tossed into the mud! And the crazy thing is… he does it! He throws this beautiful thing far into the mud. Digory looks straight into Aslan’s, his heart breaking yet again at the thought of his beloved mother, and sees that Aslan is grieving just as much as he is. “Grief is great. Only you and I in this land know that yet. Let us be good to one another.” In those grief-stricken eyes, Digory receives comfort and compassion and acceptance. And in those moments of understanding, a tree has grown up from the seed of the cast away fruit that had been thrown into the mud. There! There is the fruit that is meant for Digory. The fruit that is given as a gift to heal. This fruit is tailor made for his mother, it’s just the right strength that will not hurt – only heal. And in all this, Digory has made amends. He has put aside his own deep need for help to save the people he has hurt. And in the end he is met with deep understanding, compassion and aid. The contrast between taking by force and being a hero in even this small way is stark.
I shared with my friends this sweeping view of the story. Of things stolen versus things given. Of walking through life even during grief. The grief I can very much relate to…my own precious mum is battling cancer for the second time. These deep and simple stories written so simply have a heartbeat. The stories come alive in our imagination. The heartbeat is hidden under simple black and white text but somehow is there for us to reach, to make it come alive in our imaginations. And hopefully, come away with new understanding.