What happens when fathers grow weary of life? They stop doing what fathers are supposed to do: bear witness to a child that life is good and worth living.
When fathers grow weary, they stop witnessing, and other narratives begin to take root and take over. There are only two types of narratives in the world: one says life is good and worth living, and the other is the narrative of fear.
When the first one stops, the other grows.
In The Silver Trumpet, Prince Courtesy loses his father’s gift, the magical Silver Trumpet. As a result, he loses his wife, and now he is losing his only daughter, Princess Lily — to a narrative of fear.
The wearier the father becomes, the larger this narrative of fear grows. It swells ever larger, like a toad, and eventually becomes an overarching reality that takes the life out of a child. She sees fear EVERYWHERE.
When we lose the father, fear always takes over. The archetypal role of the father is to shine bright.
The English father and the Germanic Vater are etymologically related to Jupiter. The Latin Iūpiter means “Father Jove.” The first part of the word — Iū — is derived from the Proto-Indo-European dyew, meaning “to shine” or “bright sky” (daylight), while piter is related to the Latin pater (father).
In mythological consciousness, a father is the one who shines brightly. A father is the light of your day. In Roman lore, Jove was seen as the source of joy and joviality. In French, the word eventually became jovial, meaning “full of cheer and joy.”
When fathers grow too weary to bear witness to the Light, darkness creeps in. In Owen Barfield’s tale, the evil Princess Gamboy begins to take over — not only Princess Lily’s heart but also the kingdom. Her narrative is fear, represented by a toad.
In Princess Lily’s heart, the light of the father is supplanted by the fear of the toad. As you read, you almost want to exclaim: Why does Prince Courtesy, the father, allow this narrative to continue? Why does he allow Gamboy to poison Lily’s mind?
He is no longer himself; he is no longer the Jupiter he once was. He has grown too weary of life to be a witness.
Darkness is always driven by a narrative of fear. This narrative is incessantly inflated — blown up like a toad — until it becomes an overarching reality in people’s minds. You cannot fight fear or resist it; it thrives on resistance.
There is only one thing it cannot tolerate: the narrative of love coming from the Bright Father.
Barfield writes of Princess Lily: “Oh, if only she had listened to nobody but her Father!” And she would have — if the father had continued to speak.
But he stopped, and Gamboy’s narrative began growing like a toad. How do you stop a narrative of fear?
Someone must recover the lost Silver Trumpet — the light of consciousness — for the narrative of fear to crumble. Someone must blow the Silver Trumpet.
When fathers lose their Silver Trumpet, the world is plunged into darkness. In the absence of Jupiter, the narrative of fear becomes too strong.
Who will find the Silver Trumpet?
The Second Prince.
In Barfield’s story, the Second Prince is the one who is “not deceived by appearances.” He represents the ultimate Christ-consciousness.
Watch our March 14, 2026, discussion of The Silver Trumpet here.
