My dear friend Frank Rankin, second generation owner of the wonderful local hardware store in my town, came to me via a smile – a smile I had not even been aware I was smiling for several weeks over trips to fill my coffee cup. There he sat with his lady friend Ruthie, a booth or two away from me. Whenever I got out of my booth to get some coffee, the two of them would watch me – closely. I wasn’t sure what was going on for quite some time and at 7 am, I was not too motivated to find out.
Two days before Christmas I was unexpectedly pulled from my quiet life in Maine to a family medical emergency set amidst my former urban life. I imagine it is part of human nature to wonder about starting over whenever we find ourselves back on the scene of our former life, particularly one where family resides.
When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.
Initiation is not for sissies. Once it has it claws embedded in us, it is best to not resist but to ride the dragon. We are led into the unconscious, or underworld, because it is our time and in accordance with an infinite wisdom that wants to deliver what we need so we can live the life we came here to live.
The reality culture we are steeped in was a fast and furious initiation, powered by a writer’s strike, which gave birth to early shows like Survivor and Big Brother, just before 2000. Practically overnight, our society took an evolutionary nosedive as creative drama was replaced by real human drama, packing a dog eat dog mentality. So long Lassie.
If you have ever wondered what happens when an environment is deprived of its creative juice, tune into the prime time media and you will see plenty of up close and too personal examples.
Cloistered away in the fictional town of Storybrook, Maine is a cache of fairy tale characters stuck in their stories, devoid of memory and unable to realize their happy endings. The tragic heroes and heroines of the imaginative television series Once Upon a Time have been exiled to the outpost by the Evil Queen, Snow White’s stepmother, whose wrath over her own unhappy fate has caused her to place a curse on others, keeping them from their happy endings.
The future enters into us in order to transform itself in us long before it happens.
...Poet Rainer Maria Rilke
For some reason when I was growing up, I never saw myself beyond the age of 40. Maybe that had something to do with the intense focus on the turn of the millennia, whose presence loomed largely on the horizon the first 40 years of my life. When I was a girl, 40 seemed ancient.