Inked: A Letter

“But no one except Lucy knew that as it circled the mast it had whispered to her, "Courage, dear heart," and the voice, she felt sure, was Aslan's, and with the voice a delicious smell breathed in her face.”

― C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader


The voice of God
The voice of me
The whisper in the darkness
Do not be afraid
The I am never alone

I grew up with a story of a man who walked on water. He held my hand as I climbed in his branches and brushed my cheek with his lacy breeze.

I learned how to live and see and feel from him.

Yet, how life goes onward and inward, always goodbyes, always greetings. I saw that I was safe and sad, and knew that I could only grow upward, never outward, if I kept my roots in their rich, firm birthplace. And I was running out of time. After a certain point, uprooting becomes more difficult. More deadly.

So, one by one, I withdrew each spiny tendril from the entangled colony of seeds and ash, and felt the cold wind on my naked roots.

I reached for hands and teachers of lessons but they were withdrawn. They did not like my leaving. They did not help me do it. And I saw that they were not even there to begin with. What hypocrisy. What sadness.

And I cried and shook with utter fear and hurt and crumbled and would have blown away into nothingness had it not been for his soothing breath that was in me and of me and with me and soothed my raw and cracking bark with balmy words and said no, no.

Do not be afraid.

Listen to stories. Find more. They are for teaching. They are for community. We will be here for all of time and you are us and we are always in the wind and the trees and your very spirit is imprinted with these words. You can never lose them. You can only ever add to them.

You are vast. You are becoming more vast with every enduring moment.

Courage, dear heart. Do not forget.