Do We Really Know Ourselves?
You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive. — James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time
Lately, I’ve found myself pausing and just looking skyward. You could say, I’ve turned it into a spiritual practice; pausing and gazing upward. Of course, I’m looking in that direction for any number of reasons: to see what nature is showcasing at the moment in the flight of birds or floating clouds. But I also gaze heavenward to express gratitude to the Infinite, to release control of my life to something much greater than myself, and to acknowledge that anything is possible, nothing is certain.
In the classical ballet repertoire, the ballet, “Swan Lake” promises the same kind of mystery and a desire to put trust in something else beyond ourselves in overcoming distractions and evil that perhaps our time represents. Music by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky was originally choreographed and staged by Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov. The ballet premiered in Moscow in1877 staged with the Bolshoi Ballet. Full of the intrigue of a fairy tale the ballet is exquisitely danced with precision, emotion and the power that movement exudes through lines and shapes in the art form of classical ballet. The ballet extravagantly displays the clash between good and evil.
In four acts the story unfolds as a beautiful maiden is turned into a swan by a spell cast by the evil owl-like creature Rothbart, interfering with her ability to marry her true love Prince Siegfried. You see she is not fully human during the day she swims in a lake of tears with other swans and only at night is she transformed into a human being. The original version ended in tragedy which may have something to with its lack of popularity in its early years.
Now, over 100 years later with many companies performing the ballet and choreographers creating their own original endings, has enabled this story ballet to experience a resurgence. The version I prefer ends when Rothbart’s hidden owl-wing which gives him power being destroyed and the lovers, Prince Siegfried and Odette marry. The ballet concludes with a beautiful wedding all the swans returned to their original human form.
A couple of decades ago, I engaged in some deep inner work using collage. While it was a creative venture, I remember thinking how tedious it was digging into different aspects of my inner terrain and wondering what the heck was going on. Why couldn’t I get any traction? What mystery could I not grasp? What dark shadowy side of myself did I dare not uncover? Years later in a different kind of clearing out process, (removing clutter) I discarded most of the cards. However, the ones I kept were filled with birds (mostly owls), something I missed in creating the original set. Owls were swooping, flying sideways, and sometimes just sitting, starring wide-eyed at me.
I’ve since learned that in some cultures owls are messengers.
Many societies and cultures associate [owls] with darkness, negativity, and mystery while others associate them with wisdom and prophecy. For example, in some Native American tribes, owls are seen as messengers from the spirit world, bringing wisdom and guidance. In other tribes, owls are considered sacred and are associated with the creation of the world. The owl’s ability to see in the dark is often interpreted as a metaphor for spiritual insight and the ability to navigate through life’s challenges.
Since owls are nocturnal creatures, few humans interact with them. I suppose this adds to their mystery and misunderstanding. I have a fascination for owls because of my remaining small collection of collage cards graced with images of them. And because of that experience I associate owls with introspection, wisdom and discernment. These are states I strive for and through embodied contemplative practices I’m beginning to experience more often.
Owls are remarkable creatures. They have two oddly-shaped eyes on a fairly flat face, that act like a satellite dish antennae aided by a soft tuft of feathers around their ears supporting their binaural hearing. Their ability to capture prey is enhanced by sharp gripping feet in which one swivels back. And they can turn their heads 270 degrees (some say more). They are solitary creatures as well as nocturnal. So unless you walk around in the night you are not likely to encounter an owl!
They have some admirable features in their ability to hone in on what is needed at the time. I wonder how life would be if we actually paid attention to all the nuances and signs in our lives; if we could ignore all the distractions and stay laser-focused on what’s really important. We of course do not have the skills of an owl and while we can’t turn our heads 270 degrees, we do have the ability with practice to become adept at what we pay attention to.
We do have the capability to increase out ability in hearing, listening and paying attention to others, our neighbors and really seeing them. Perhaps we could become more skillful in what we are seeing and listening to so that our actions serve the common good and become less reactionary and therefore more loving in our lived experiences. And of course that would lead to a fundamental truth that regardless of differences we are all one family.
We belong to each other; we cannot cut reality into pieces… Every side is our side.
—Thich Nhat Hanh
IMAGINE that kind of world! No more Rothbart’s because they have been transformed through their own journeys of seeking truth, peace, and justice and discovered something different, beauty and grace.