Q & E

[We now join a conversation already in progress]

Q: Honestly, I don't know what's happening to me.

E: And how do you feel about that?

Q: Like a million bucks, of course. I feel like my life sank, and the various bits are floating away from each other, each in an opposite direction, and I need to grab one to stay afloat, but I can't let everything else drift away, so I keep swimming out to another piece, swimming to another piece, dropping it and going out for another one, trying to bring them all together in a futile attempt to keep my bits of soul into a collection of Q that somewhat resembles a life. And I feel like the most important bit is the one that's furthest away, the one I have to get, more than anything else, but it's floating away faster than I can swim. Like hypothermia's setting in, and I don't have much time before I just drift under, and the damnedest thing is I'm not even sure why I'm sinking.

E: Ever read Voyage of the Dawn Treader?

Q: I may be dumb, and uneducated, and a philistine, but of course.

E: Okay, here's the thing. What really stood out to me this past read-through was Lewis' theme of light and dark, and especially the idea of a journey to light. All adventure in the story happens during a sea voyage on a quest for Aslan's country, something the crew isn't entirely sure actually exists but pursue anyway. They meet with storms on the way, with dark adventures and potential dangers, yet they never turn back---Reepicheep won't let them. He steers their course, constantly calling them to focus when all seems lost. "To Aslan's country," he says, time and time again.

Every page held some battle of light and dark, and the sun always won out in the end. I found myself following this story, making connections and wondering in the margins: Why a ship? Why the name Dawn Treader? A ship for a life of tossing and turning, for bouts of calm water but anticipation of the storms. Dawn Treader for the hope of morning, to remind you it's just the next side of night. I guess your sea analogy sparked the connection, but it's applicable to any situation. Don't exhaust yourself putting the pieces back together after the storm; focus on getting to land.

The pieces will come together themselves. You'll see. Focus on the light.

Q: You have such faith in the ability of my life to put itself back together. I just don't have that. Nobody has the same penchant for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory (I know, overplayed cliché), let alone defeat from the jaws of defeat. Honestly, when have I ever proved that I can?

E: As long as we're being completely honest here, um, not really ever. But that's not the point. We believe that you can. I know, I sound silly. But that's why we're here. You can, you can, you can. I . . . I don't know what else to say but start swimming. Hard. Fast. Toward land. What else is there? "To Aslan's country!"

Q: Are we seriously publishing this?

E: Well, that was kind of sort of the point. What else can I write about?

Q: "Bloody, can Q sound any more like a Fall-Out Boy song?"

E: We could change the names to protect the innocent.

Q: And the guilty as sin.

E: Stop swearing. Now I really can't publish this.

Q: That does put a damper on your night. What will you write?

E: I really can't publish this? I've run out of time. We've grocery shopping to do and only an hour left of the day.