Some seven months ago I met the Square Halo team. Well, sort of. It was through emails. Since then, I’ve read several of the books and written some blogs, but in March I met them, and the broader Square Halo community, in person at the annual Square Halo Conference.
As a first time attendee and a stranger to the city of Lancaster, it felt something like stumbling into a warm tavern and being met by a hundred and one delightful conversations and sounds. How could I not see things this way? There was music, drinks, laughter, storytelling, food, and shelter from the rain. This is essentially the recipe for any tavern scene in a story.
Here is something I now know about Square Halo. The community they have created is composed of some of the most brilliant and loveable people I know. Writers will say something on the lecture stage that will astound you and then you will think how have I never thought of that and how beautiful that was. Then you will be stacking a chair or drinking a beer at pub night and a stranger (who has most likely not written a book, but perhaps has because you really don’t know with this community how many writers there are) will say one of the most profound and kingdom like things you’ve ever heard leaving you with a great smile and sense of inspiration.
I'll also say there was much cheerfulness, laughter, and excitement in the conference. Gathering people who share a love for good books and art should have that effect. There was a button-making station where I cut out a sentence from The Voyage of the Dawn Treader with a small drawing of a lamb and pressed it into a button. My button sits on my desks and reads, “ ‘Come have breakfast’, said the lamb.” There was an art gallery with Narnia-inspired art by a variety of artists (including Ned Bustard’s linocuts from the new book Aslan’s Breath ) where people stood before the prints for quite some time till they stared themselves in and out of the images. The songwriters shared the personal histories of their songs and encouraged the many hobbyist musicians to keep creating whether or not you are the only listener. Ned even hosted a live linocut pop-up printing studio which gave a lot of people (like myself) a first-hand experience with the process that was demonstrated.
I feel there was also a shared concern throughout the conference for how a follower of Christ lives in a sometimes harsh world that makes the acts of creation, laughter, and intimacy with the Father feel impossible. From David Bisgrove’s opening lecture to Sarah Sparks’ closing concert, there was a very honest admittance that we often live in what St. John of the Cross called the “dark night of the soul”. I’m thinking especially of a lyric from Sarah Sparks’ song, The Artist. She says to the artist,
Use the brightest of the pigments
The most beautiful of hues
But the first stroke a dark shade of blue.
It was special to be in a room where communally it could be admitted that this whole Christian thing is not easy. It was comforting to see a speaker share a tear with his audience. I think these moments made this year’s theme of the Holy Spirit in Narnia feel so real. The “dark night of the soul” that obscures hope like Eustace’s dragon skin can’t be escaped by our own efforts and we ought to look elsewhere. If we look close enough in Narnia we would see the Holy Spirit was there all along and with it moments of comfort, grace, laughter, and warmth.
This year's theme—and the conference itself—was to me, a great breath of fresh air and a great welcome into the warmest, most bookish, and creative community I have known.
—blog post by Iman Mozoffarian | photos by Drew Nyguist
