The Girl Who Listened Differently (part 3)

And so she decided to go into the desert again. She knew that she could always find her forest by following her own steps backward. This time she prepared herself before leaving the forest. She drank deeply before leaving because there would be no water in the desert. And she made a nice hat from a lovely flower vine to keep the sun out of her eyes. She was quite sure everything would go very well now. She was very pleased with her exciting new adventure

This is what she found in the desert. There were red rocks and white and black and orange and yellow and.... but only a geologist would want to know all that. The little girl just thought they were pretty. There were also many living things in the desert. This would have surprised the fox and the cedar. But it didn’t surprise the little girl. She had sort of thought they would be there. There were turtles and snakes and iguanas. There were rabbits and kangaroo rats and armadillos. There were so many wonderfully fun creatures she lost count. And there were birds, tiny birds, large birds, bright birds and plain birds. She was very happy to see the birds in the desert too.

Strange plants were everywhere as well. Some of them had bright flowers and some didn’t. But they were all very nice, and very alive, not at all dead like she had been told. She was very pleased with herself for finding out that the desert was beautiful and full of living things just like her forest.

There was one very tall prickly spiny one she could not tell about however.

“Hello, who are you?” she asked.

“I am a cactus. And who are you?”

“I am a little girl.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I live in the forest and I must be getting back because I am thirsty and there is no water here.”

“You are wrong about the water, little girl,” said the cactus. “I drink it in from under the rocks and sand and store it here in my heart.”

That is nice but, you see, I can’t do that. So I must go find some water to drink or I will soon die.”

“Then I will let you drink from my heart,” said the cactus. “Just break me off and you will find something to drink.”

So she drank from the cactus’ heart and stayed awhile with the cactus. She could sit in his shade and watch small insects and other creatures skittering or crawling through the rocks and sand.

But then she decided she really must be getting back to her forest.

“I have to go home while it is light” she told the cactus. “I have to see my footprints to return”

“Oh but the sunsets are so wonderful here in the desert,” the cactus said. “And the night sky is spectacular. You must stay through the night. You can return in the morning when the light returns.”

It sounded like a good idea and the little girl really did want to see the sunset and the night sky. So she agreed to stay.

To be continued

The Girl Who Listened Differently (part 2)

“I am going to see the desert.’’ she told the tallest cedar. “Can you see it from there? Where is it?”

“Yes it is over there,” he tossed his branches to the west. “But you do not want to go there, my Dear. It is all dead and brown. There is only sand and rocks and the hot sun beating down. You would be very unhappy and would doubtless die there. Stay here. Do not go to the desert."

But she was a happy child and laughed, “Oh, dear Cedar, it can’t be as bad as that. Perhaps it will be a little hot, but I would not die.” So she ran off to ask the oldest fox.

“Is the desert really only sand and rocks and the hot sun beating, down?” she asked.

“Yes, ” he said becoming very concerned. “You can lose yourself before you even know it. There is no water, no rain, no brooks. You would die of thirst. I have been there, little girl, I know.”

She worried a bit about what the fox said but soon cast it aside and set out for the desert in the west. Laughing, she marched willy-nilly out into it and looked around. There surely were rocks and sand and a very hot sun. But the sand felt warm between her toes. It was a lovely day.

Very soon, however, her head began to hurt from the brightness of the sun all around. The sand began to burn her feet and there truly was no water at all. She turned back to go home to her forest but it was nowhere in sight.

“Oh, I am lost,” she cried. She was very afraid now that perhaps the fox and the cedar had been right. But she was determined not to die in this miserable desert. So she sat down and thought. She did not want to move for fear she would lose herself more. So she just sat and thought.

And she thought of the most simple answer. Where she had to go was where she had come from. She had come step by step and if she followed her own steps backwards she would certainly arrive at where she wanted to be. She was so happy she jumped up and carefully followed her footprints till she was back in her own forest.

Now you may think the little girl never went out in the desert again. But you are very wrong. In fact that same day she sat at the edge of the forest and looked out at the desert all day. She sat and watched it all the next day and the next as well. Her eyes began to grow accustomed to the glaring sun. The brown was not just brown, she saw, but red and orange and yellow and many, many colors. It was actually a very beautiful desert.

The cedar was sleeping and the fox was somewhere else and the little girl had a very good idea about what she wanted to do.

To be continued

The Girl Who Listened Differently (part 1)

This story is about exploring new possibilities and discovering unexpected beauty. It is for anyone who finds themselves moving out from the familiar places of their life and it is also for those who have begun dreaming of home from their far travels.

It was originally written to explain myself. And it still does. My travels have now taken me to far distant places of the mind and heart. However I am presenting the story here in the hopes that it can also say something to you as well.

May you find in it images for your own travels to and from home… wherever that is for you.

________________

Once upon a time there was a little girl who lived in a forest. It was a very lovely forest with oak trees and pine trees, maple trees, spruce trees, apple trees and pear trees. There were many other kinds of trees as well. But a botanist would be the only one interested in naming them all.

The little girl only knew they were very beautiful, tall and green. There were also all sorts of bushes and flowers. Moss covered the ground under the trees. It rained every afternoon at four o’clock. Sometimes a thunderstorm would start during the night and last all through the next day. The forest was always moist and green.

Squirrels lived there and chipmunks. There were deer and otters and foxes. There were frogs and raccoons and a bear. He lived in a cave on the hill and bumbled through the forest once a month to find honey. He only wanted honey once a month. The rest of the time he ate berries on the hill.

Birds of all colors flew through the forest. They were like flashes of red or white darting among the trees. Owls hooted and crickets and bullfrogs sang all night. Bumble bees buzzed in the little clearings all day. Crows called down from over the tops of the trees where they flew. And every so often all the sparrows would gather in one tree and raise such a noise you could hear them all over the forest.

That was the forest where the little girl lived. But you really would have to go there to understand.

One day the little girl met a turtle. He was sitting on a rock in the sun dozing and warming himself.

“Good morning,” said the little girl. She was well mannered. The sleepy turtle opened his eyes and said “Oh, yes.” Which didn’t make a great deal of sense. Then again it didn’t make no sense and sometimes turtles are that way when they first wake up. So she simply ignored it and asked, “Where are you from?”

“From the desert” he said slowly.

“And where is the desert?” she asked. There was a pause as the turtle had to open his eyes again. You must understand that this was a very wide-awake little girl and a very sleepy turtle.

“At the edge of the forest,” he gave a great sigh.

“And may I go there?”

“Yes. .. Yes. .. Certainly.” He said each word with a pause after it as if he couldn’t remember what it was he had been saying. You can’t get much out of a turtle when you just wake him,

“What is it like?” But he had gone quite to sleep and she didn’t hear another word out of him. That was all right though, because she had already decided to go and see it herself.

To be continued

A Different Take on Halloween - because my mind works in strange ways

On day, some time ago, I found myself contemplating the "meaning" of Halloween. Not the religious or the historical context of it. I wondered what possible meaning could be created for the silly customs we engage in today. We all dress up as odd beings and characters – good and bad – and go around visiting strangers asking for treats.

When goblins, werewolves, ghosts and even Jason the psychotic killer come to our door we are not frightened. We know they are just little kids looking for something sweet.

And life is like that. We’re all going around pretending to be this or that, making ourselves up as the beings we think we are- or ought to be or need to be in order to survive or to get what it is we are trying to get. We go around to each person we meet wondering what we will get from them.

Whenever someone comes to us we wonder if they are thinking of tricks or treats – and what we have to give them to get them not to trick us.

We are all just playing roles - the roles are not who we are. We are the inner spirit that is playing the roles.

And when we see someone who looks like a monster or demon we should know it is only a costume. Behind the mask is just a little kid looking for something sweet.

And when we imagine ourselves as angels we need to remember that is a mask too.

I thought about this and then I made a drawing. Because that is what I do.

It is a large drawing of a whole lot of kids – kids who are us. Kids running, playing, posing, fighting, laughing, frowning. Each one has an angel doll and a demon mask. Sometimes they play with one, sometimes with the other – imagining themselves and each other as angel or demon.

Sometimes they forget their toys for a moment and notice the bird over their head. Each child has a bird a living bird with real wings. Mostly the children don’t notice their birds.

The birds notice everything. The birds are their spirits – their true living selves – neither angel nor demon but a living being whose natural state is to fly.

It is not something they are pretending to be but what they can become when they stop pretending.

In the drawing some children play sweetly, some play spitefully, some play together, some play alone. Some are caught up for the moment in the excitement of play, but they keep hold of their dolls and masks.

Some play with their mask, some wear their mask, some just hold it, in case they might need it. Some hold their angel dolls close, cherishing them. Some hold them carelessly.

One tries to snatch a doll and another tries to hit someone with his angel doll. Who we are and who we think we are and who we try to be and not be can be baffling.

One girl is gazing in delight at her bird. One boy has let go of his mask and his doll and has spread his sweater like wings as he looks at his bird. One boy seems to have lost interest in both his mask and his doll as he hugs his friend.

That was the drawing I made out of the thoughts that were rolling around in my head.

We’re all just children playing at life thinking the roles we play are real. As long as the spirit sees through the eyes of the child it imagines itself and its world as angel or demon.

When the child begins to look through the eyes of the spirit it no longer see angels or demons but only children pretending with masks and dolls and imagined selves.

When we begin to know ourselves as living spirits we awaken to a world awash in the billion billion beating wings of living spirits and know we are meant to fly.

*****

there is understanding you come to know through experience
there is wisdom you come to through insight and depth of spirit
there is knowledge you learn from reading the right books
it should be understood that all I know is merely of the latter type

I’m still just playing with my masks and dolls trying to hear the wings of spirit somewhere above me

Meaning of life 7: the dark side

Meaning for an individual or a society does not necessarily need to be good, healthy, or beneficial meaning ; it can be bad meaning. This can be particularly so for an individual, a group or a subgroup of a population that begins embracing a negative framework of meaning. Meanings constructed around exclusivist, xenophobic, paranoid frames of reference can be extraordinarily damaging to the individual psyche as well as to the community and to wider society. Meanings generated from states of resentment, anger, arrogance, exploitation, are equally destructive to the soul and the community.

The construction of meaning is intimately involved in the construction of identity – both individual and collective. Groups which construct their shared meaning and personal and shared identity around such ideas as “everyone is going to hell but us,” or “nobody’s as good or as smart or as important, or as beautiful as us,” “nobody counts in the end but us,” are debilitating to the individuals, to the group and very difficult for the larger society which they impact.

The main shared component of these negative frameworks of meaning comes down to their separation of themselves from others and from the larger shared project and adventure of humanity as a whole. Any time we wall ourselves off from others, we begin to, consciously or unconsciously adopt a value scale with ourselves at the top and everyone else ranged lower and valued less.

Meanings which promote exclusivity or separation between ourselves and others are essentially non-productive to the human endeavor –to the natural flow of things. To self-identify in contrast and opposition to others instead of in connection and mutual respect, is a gateway to all sorts of awful behavior to one another.

It leads to exploitation of others – what I need from them is far more important than their comfort, needs, goals, purposes, pleasure. It generates disenfranchisement and marginalization of others. It doesn’t need to be extreme. Negatively skewed sets of meaning can be as simple as assessing the healthy as better than the unhealthy, the smart or educated as better than ignorant or uneducated, the fast as better than the slow. Value judgments which place others in hierarchical relation to ourselves and those like us are inherently negative frameworks of meaning.

Some see beauty only in those who look like themselves, some see truth only in those who share their ideas, perspectives, outlook. This sort of territorial exclusiveness of the mental sphere is debilitating not only to those who construct these meanings but brings harm to those who live around or come into contact with them in one form or another. It shrinks the humanity of those who frame their identity with these meanings.

At the far end, these negative frames of meaning can lead to demonization of the other, the making of those who are different into non-humans, soul-less. And that is when we begin to act in truly evil ways toward one another. We have done this again and again in our rough road to becoming human.

Seeing that our worst tendencies can come out of the same urge to create meaning that inspires our greatest human achievements is part of the mystery of our humanity.

Meaning of life 6: possibilities of transformation

As human animals our minds have become characterized by a tendency toward creating, finding, seeing meaning. As individuals our felt need varies widely as does our ability to see, find, create meaning. But we’re all involved in this ongoing project of our evolving humanity and

meaning plays a central part in this adventure.

We look for meaning in our own lives, our personal collection of knowledge, insight, experience. And we find it in our wider cultures and societies. Sometimes we have little need for it and at other times we feel a desperate need for meaning to sustain, preserve, heal our humanity and our soul.

Sometimes there are those with a strong sense of recklessness and high risk capacity in their personality, who are willing to make the very bold move to throw over the entire fabric of their lives up to that point and trade it in for something else they are beginning to feel matches or corresponds more to the way they are now experiencing their life. They deliberately and consciously trade out their meanings for new ones.

There are also those who have had no felt need for meaning, who gain their pleasure in life from other pursuits, but then their life throws them a curve ball. They can’t get what they need and can’t figure out how to get and keep the pleasure they desire, or avoid the pain or loss or discouragement flowing in. They lose their hold on whatever it is that has given direction and energy to their life. They have stepped off into the incomprehensible end of the pool, teeming with the confusing parts – the parts that can’t be explained or understood. They have run smack into the lived experience of the essential meaninglessness of the raw, un-adorned flow of life.

And they suddenly need meaning . Because meaning is precisely the capacity to transcend the debilitating emotional and psychological paralysis which overwhelms us when life fails us. Often this is an impetus to the mind to step back and consciously sort through our life; to begin to piece together those things which give meaning for us. It triggers an individual mental construction project that can be the door to a more consciously lived life, a life of awareness and deliberate engagement.

Or it precipitates a broader quest for meaning through the vast human archives of knowledge and insight. We can collect meanings from those whose sense of meaning corresponds fairly closely

with our own sense of our life, our experience of life. When found or discovered meaning matches our own, our mind recognizes it as real, genuine, valid. Meanings are personal; if they are not constructed out of the fabric of ones own life they need to be matched to that fabric fairly closely.

And, of course, there are those for whom the crash into the darkness simply overwhelms them. No meaning can be found or created and they sink under the weight of life. But there are also some among us who have a gift for both meaning and empathy. They can step out of their own experience and enter into the experience of the other. And from within the darkness of the other they can listen until they see the fragmentary remnants there in the darkness of the other’s soul and feel their way along the contours of the broken parts to reclaim and re-construct.

Those who seek to become healing agents to the broken soul, must first be able to step outside of their own context and see through the eyes of the soul that is broken. Because the only stable and enduring meanings will be those which are drawn from the individual soul-mind-life which experiences them.

If you want to think about the dark side of meaning creation – and yes, there is a dark side – you can go on to the next post.

Meaning of life 5: creating meaning

As humans we have a tendency to want meaning, create it, look for it, preserve it in thought systems of meaning passed down in our societies and cultures.

But there are times when we step outside of these culturally and socially bounded frames of meaning. These traditional sets of meaning complexes may have lost their capacity to give our lives brilliance, or to sustain and heal us in our pain. Or there are those who just like to wander through alternative mental landscapes.

As noted earlier, the felt need for meaning manifests in each of us individually, and over time, in a wide range from nearly non-existent to immensely significant. And similarly, the capacity or skill or aptitude for creating, seeing, finding meaning also runs in a spectrum from slight to strong.

Those who have an inherent felt need for meaning but who have a low capacity for creation of meaning – or who find themselves in such a state – will often turn to others who not only have a capacity to create meaning but to convey that meaning, to express it, to pass it along. We value those who have the capacity training, skill, or insight to show us meaning, construct meaning in our world in which we live out our lives.

There are many different types of meaning creators, with different levels of skill and different attraction or appeal. Societies develop public meaning creators who can articulate the meanings which many in that society have developed in concert with one another, that have become a public shared meanings. Those who can express shared meanings in culturally and socially accessible contexts – writers, musicians, artists, speakers, creators of film and dance – often become the touchstones of meaning for their generation.

In addition to the broad social creators of meaning, there are also numerous providers of meaning all through our communities and families. They serve smaller groups of shared needs, or shared interests. The ability to see and give meaning is an inherent ability for our human mind. We can all do it, sometimes better, sometimes not so much. Our own meanings are always more powerful and more transformative than acquired meanings. But often we will be able to come across those who are able to speak, present, manifest the meanings that we have known but not been able to articulate to ourselves. We can absorb these meanings and appropriate them as our own.

Our minds are always involved in accessing, evaluating, re-evaluating, configuring, and re-configuring all the information, knowledge, learning experiences, pattern identification, and innumerable other tools and resources for managing our lives. Meaning is one of the resources which our mind is continually re-considering, re-vamping, re-organizing in the context of the lived experiences through which we make our way. It’s all part of the wonderful and terrible adventure of living life as a human.

For more adventures introduced by meaning see the next post