Today’s Prayer to Passage will be from the book “The Chronicles of Narnia” by C.S. Lewis.
Today I pray, “Dear God, Tonight my cherished friend and I completed our viewing of comedian Louis C.K.’s new creation ‘Horace and Pete’. We turned toward one another upon the closing of the 10th episode. My first response was, ‘As a writer, Louis C.K. went into all those dark places. What emerged was catharsis.’ My cherished friend’s response was an upbeat-while-smiling, ‘This is how it ends? What a downer.’
The affect of the work in its entirety was one that will stay with us for hours, days, and even weeks. Louis C.K.’s strong-suit for renewing a trust in life is an indelible art, structured in the corners of his mind, albeit truth-comedy of dark and tragic expressions. As a father, he has two girls who will grow into women — and may, one day, confidently state, My dad told the truth amid artistry. And he loves us more than anyone or anything. These are full self-expressions at their best.
May each of us fulfill a such a calling as this… somewhere, somehow. Amen.”
Following my prayer, I held the closed book in my hands and opened it to this passage:
“But, first, remember, remember, remember the signs. Say them to yourself when you wake in the morning and when you lie down at night, and when you wake in the middle of the night. And whatever strange things may happen to you, let nothing turn your mind from following the signs. And secondly, I give you a warning. Here on the mountain I have spoken to you clearly: I will not often do so down in Narnia. Here on the mountain, the air is clear and your mind is clear; as you drop down into Narnia, the air will thicken. Take great care that it does not confuse your mind. And the signs which you have learned here will not look at all as you expect them to look, when you meet them there. That is why it is so important to know them by heart and pay no attention to appearances. Remember the signs and believe the signs. Nothing else matters.”
When writing, there is a part of us that whispers, “Every word has an impact. Every word.” And then there is this other part that whispers, “The work of art which I do not create, no one else will ever create. Say it now; time is valuable.” And I think the “signs” are simply those parts of both whispers that grow increasingly easier to hear over time. Writers know them. Comedians know them. Parents know them. And so on.
Nothing in the world is so important that we must police our own minds. Yet we are given the luxury of signs to follow. Joy is a much livelier life than sorrow — and whether comedy or tragedy, writing is joyful when it is fully expressing something. Well, maybe not always joyful, yet it can certainly hold one’s attention until that expression is complete. This is why writers can account for storing up ideas for months and years, and when they are ready to present them, it is as if they must. Or not. But the allowing for expression is a feeling of “my best work” in many cases. And that feels so good. And then something new comes along. This is how we are.