Month: May 2014

Waiting vs. Facing the Dragon

/ Cheryl / 1 Comment

…so Harry reentered the tent, which somehow looked quite different now: friendly and welcoming. He thought back to how he’d felt while dodging the Horntail, and compared it to the long wait before he’d walked out to face it. . . .  There was no comparison; the wait had been immeasurably worse.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling

Do you remember the first time you read the Harry Potter books? Each held for me a few particular passages or lines or essential themes that caught my attention even on the first read. The theme of Friendship in Sorcerer’s Stone [and that continues throughout the entire HP narrative] is one: “But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.” Mountain trolls come in all forms in real life. I have had the joy of collectively taking one on this year and in the process have collectively forged a unique and beautiful friendship.

I read Goblet of Fire for the first time I had to stop after reading the passage referenced above. I felt keenly Harry’s inner torture as he waited in the tent – hearing the crowd, hearing Bagman’s commentary, but mostly his imaginings of what would happen, how it would be, when he faced the Horntail. Dragons also come in all forms throughout our lives. Sometimes, like Harry, we have no choice in when we must head into the arena to face them.

In my life, there have been several times when I have only had to wait on myself to make the call to head out and face a dragon I have been ignoring. An extended season of prolonged waiting is draining at every level: emotional, mental, physical. I know I am not alone in ignoring dragons for long stretches, hoping they might simply go away. Generally, though, they continue to make their ongoing presence known from time to time. Our reasons for waiting are as legion as types of dragons. Over the past few weeks, this picture of Harry reflecting on the Wait vs. Facing-the-Dragon comparison has popped into my mind. Timely.

Like a Kaleidoscope

/ Cheryl / Leave a comment

“I call that ambiguity,” I said. “Riddles, puzzles, double meanings, lost possibilities, the dark side to the light, the light side to the darkness, different perspectives on the same things. Nothing in this whole world has only one side to it. Everything is like a kaleidoscope. That’s what I’m trying to capture in my art. That’s what I mean by ambiguity.”

~ The Gift of Asher Lev  by Chaim Potok

Everything is the same and everything is different.  This thought from artist Asher Lev foreshadows for me the words to his father, quoted above, in an exchange that occurs later in the story. How often have I thought a very similar thought, even if with different words to it? How often do I look at the picture of my life and wonder at how the pieces have shifted around to change the collective image – sometimes drastically. I am tempted to share context from the story as I generally do, but I feel this truth does not need context from the work of fiction from which it is pulled. It is a universal truth given poignant depth by Potok.

In a sealed kaleidoscope, the tiny colorful multi-faceted shards and chips of colorful glass that tumble about each other as the end is turned stay the same in that they are locked in. Yet with each turn, their positions change – the perspective shifts – the image created by the mirrors within is new though all of the pieces are, in essence, the same. Everything is the same and everything is different.

Our lives are not sealed kaleidoscopes. They are left open to the coming and the leaving of the “pieces” that make up the picture of our life. The variety of people we share facets of our life with, our personal and shared experiences, and memories of events and of emotions are ever changing. The impact of each relationship remains, however, as its own tiny (or large) shard. The happenings of each day bring shifts small and large in our perspective – sometimes in ways thoroughly unexpected. There are times when the picture we “see” appears to be all we long for, and we strive to capture and hold onto it as tightly as we can. Each new sunrise, though, brings even a tiny rearrangement in the picture – a light shines where we did not see light before, and because of that light a shadow falls elsewhere. This chiaroscuro, or contrast of light and dark, can change how we see the world like nothing else can. …the dark side to the light, the light side to the darkness, different perspectives on the same things.

At times we need to intentionally cause a shift to happen, to turn the end of the kaleidoscope – or even shake it, hard. We may not know for sure which pieces will stay and which will be gone or be able to anticipate exactly how the remaining pieces will be rearranged, but we know it’s time to make a turn. Riddles, puzzles, double meanings, lost possibilities….

Even during life seasons when so much in our world seems to be the same from day to day, tiny shifts and unnoticed turnings bring changes we may be only subconsciously aware of. That’s what I mean by ambiguity.

We live shared lives; our kaleidoscopes are interconnected, especially with those we love. Seeing things differently from even those we feel closest to can be painful at times, but it can also be beautiful when we open ourselves up to hear the difference in their perspective or experience. Two people standing side by side looking at the same flower, the same painting, the same car, the same situation will have slightly different perspectives not only because of sight line but because of all the prior life experiences that create the filter through which they are looking. Even though we sometimes see only one side, the person beside us is likely seeing others. There can be great beauty in this ambiguity. Nothing in this whole world has only one side to it. Everything is like a kaleidoscope.

Seeing With My Heart

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“One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.”

What I’m looking at is only a shell. What’s most important is invisible . . .

“But eyes are blind. You have to look with the heart.”

~ The Little Prince by Norton Juster

I neither have nor think I need many words to express my thoughts on these lines from The Little Prince that express one of de Saint-Exupéry’s central themes. The fox shared a priceless truth in the secret he told the little prince.

What happens when I bypass the external, when I close my eyes and begin to look and to see with my heart? Beauty happens. And I believe that I begin to honestly see myself with my own heart and in turn allow others to see me with their hearts. There is a mutual vulnerability in this seeing and being seen.

What You Will Do

/ Cheryl / Leave a comment

As the cheering continued, Rhyme leaned forward and touched Milo gently on the arm. “They’re shouting for you,” she said with a smile. “But I could never have done it,” he objected, “without everyone else’s help.” “That may be true,” said Reason gravely, “but you had the courage to try; and what you can do is often simply a matter of what you will do.”

~ The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster

To any who read these thoughts but who have not yet read Norton Juster’s The Phantom Tollbooth, please go do so. Now. It is not just for children. I promise. I think I first read Tollbooth when I was in fifth grade. While several scenes stayed in my mind through the years, I never read it again until I borrowed it from the friend of one of my nieces, and the timing could not have been any better. It is fiction filled with truths. In the passage quoted above, our young hero Milo is being celebrated for his lead in rescuing the princesses Rhyme and Reason from the Castle in the Air – a quest requiring an impossible journey through the Mountains of Ignorance. Wisely, the princesses brothers, King Azaz and the Mathemagician did not disclose to Milo the impossibility of his mission until it was completed (a passage containing another truth I shall write about).

While all of this happens in the most fantastic of fantasies, this is true: “…what you can do is often simply a matter of what you will do.” I have several tasks ahead of me right now that I often feel I cannot do. How often do we give the excuse I can’t when what we really should say  is either I won’t or I don’t want to? Sometimes we say I can’t when what we mean is I’m afraid. We see the barriers and the challenges and feel overwhelmed. Even difficult journeys are taken on one step at a time, and barriers only need to be faced one at a time. If we can be like Milo, open to friendship and assistance from unexpected people (or dogs or bugs) in our lives, we will not be alone in facing them.