Here goes my longer-than-five-minute Friday with Lisa-Jo and her flash mob of writers. The word is jump, and I’m borrowing worlds today.
Jump! Digory and Polly, hands clasped, leave the Wood Between the Worlds and return home, bringing with them Queen Jadis, with her unfortunately vice-like grip on Digory’s unfortunate ear. “A dem fine woman!” says Uncle Andrew, the magician. But she isn’t, not really.
I don’t tend to jump into pools, myself. I like to do things gradually, wade in, on tiptoe, torturing myself with the cold which teases its way around my ribcage, making me catch my breath and shiver. It would be easier to jump in, be all wet all at once, but I can rarely bring myself to jump in anywhere.
When entering new worlds, I suppose wading in doesn’t work very well. The pools in the Wood Between the Worlds are not the sort, I suspect, which can be waded into. Even without the wood, I’ve stood at the edge of worlds, tried to ease my way in. It seems you have to be in over your ears before you’re really there.
It’s so much easier for me if I have a friend beside me, to clasp the hand of my soul and plunge in with me. Sometimes the friend is already in the world, drawing me in over my ears before I have time to protest. Sometimes the friend is more afraid than I am, so that I am the one pulling, suddenly bold: let’s jump!
Which is, I suppose, how Digory and Polly woke the witch, in the first place: Digory borrowing boldness from Polly’s caution, doing what he might never have dared without her, bringing destruction on the witch’s world of Charn, on his own city of London, on the new-sung world of Narnia.
Be careful where you jump, and why, and with whom. Sometimes, yes, the fearful friend needs to be pulled, but sometimes it’s better to sit on the edge with that friend, watching the wild worlds from a safe distance, not, by any means, disturbing the water . . .
And there I have mixed metaphors, jumped wildly from one world to another, only able to hope, dear reader, that you followed somehow before the secret door came crashing closed and left our little fellowship in darkness.
©2013 by Stacy Nott