fables

enchanted doors; adventure; Gorgons; mind-theatre

Dear word explorer,

First off, a cheery thank you to the latest paying subscriber to this newsletter! My philosophy is to concentrate on writing thoughtful posts rather than soliciting patronage, but every spontaneous upgrade from a reader delivers a cloudburst of joy; pink hearts rain upon my creative fields. New life stirs under the earth.

Sublime beauty should not be plucked, lest you enrage the dread gardener with the fatal shears.

Now is the time for enjoying the lingering roses upon the stem. I spotted this perfect bloom among the dying roses during a walk at the golden hour when the birds were singing evensong and the honeyed light was suffused with magic and possibility.

This is the moment when a door may reappear in a bricked-up portal and if you are brave enough to knock you may gain access to a world of adventure… and new challenges.

All fresh roads are wondrous when you first step upon them: you marvel at the hedges of perfumed roses, swooning with petals, and the gravel path devoid of weeds. After a time you notice the thorns, the wilted heads, and the uneven surface. Then, the Gorgon behind the hedge will rear up and demand a toll. Luckily, she is wearing sunglasses, but if she takes them off you will be fixed in place and unable to move.

Do you have the required payment?

No doubt she lay in wait the entire time, crouched down, her snake-hair weaving and tasting the air for the best opportunity to spring an ambush. But the merry fool doesn’t spot the danger in the beginning… luckily! Otherwise none of us would ever leave home.

We all seek a way to paradise without difficulty, but our fables and fairy tales are replete with warnings about the hazards of taking a different route. Wolves masquerade as grannies, witches wish to snack upon abandoned innocents, or beasts demand answers to puzzles or a sacrifice.

Some of them will cause you significant trouble and heartache.

Later, after you become acquainted with the strange territory and its different culture, riches and rewards may be bestowed upon you. They may not be what tempted you to break your familiar routines, and could be unexpected outcomes. Your prize could be friendship or new skills.¹ The most magical treasure is discovering a quality of your character that you believed didn’t exist. Even if it’s a streak of ruthlessness.

Perhaps that’s what you needed to outwit the Gorgon.²

At the last gasp of twilight, knock thrice, turn clockwise once, and push hard until you see starlight.

Last week’s post, ‘What’s Your Poison?’, was well received despite my concerns that it was too introspective and personal. It is only a few rungs below my most popular post, ‘Let Go (of the old story)’, which was published a year ago at almost the same day, and touches upon a similar theme. I didn’t notice the timing until afterwards.

There must be something that arises in my mind around the end of August as I face the harrowing of autumn. It’s the season I take stock of the summer’s bounty based on what I sowed in the spring while I prepare to hunker down for the winter.

I should not be surprised that I was mulling over what stories I want running around in my head during the forthcoming long, stormy nights. Sure, I have broadband and many distractions, but nightly I must face the dark theatre stage of my mind before sleep descends and mounts its own weird fare. Since I own the stage it’s time to stop performing the usual dusty plays with cardboard characters and rote dialogue.

I will stock up with cabbages and start pelting the rubbish stories until they make way for an upstart and innovative playwright leading a promising new cast!

‘I say, what a thrilling production. Are you sure Maura wrote it?’ ‘At the Theater’ by Federico Zandomeneghi, 1885-1895.

Those acquainted with my newsletters know that I focus on appreciating the wonder in our world and showcase better potentials. Yet, I’m not oblivious to the cruelty, pain and suffering that people endure in this world. I have experienced tragedy and I know it leaves a permanent mark.

During my life I have cycled through periods of depression and apathy. Cynicism is easy in a world that savours reporting on the worst of humanity’s impulses. We see the horrors inflicted upon ordinary people and we recoil, sometimes questioning the foundation of our beliefs. Guilt can pull at us for our better lives and opportunities.

But self-indulgent self-flagellation does not help anyone. If anything, it’s dishonest and is disliked most by people who are in true peril. Perhaps an outward act of self-hatred will placate the inner fear of not being a good person while also allowing you to enjoy your home and security. But no human being escapes trials and tribulations. Even the most charmed person has experienced the depths of despair. We only know our own lives. Terror and happiness is not meted out equally. Much can reside behind smiles and a white-knuckled grip.

What do I do to avoid swimming in the waters of misery while a boat remains at hand?

I aim to be kind, compassionate and help people whenever I can³.

That expression could vary hugely depending on your resources and phase of life. Small acts of grace can have outsized impacts that you never see, but consider every time someone helped you in your moment of extremis and remember how much it mattered.

There is nothing new here. We might seek wisdom from ancient sages or TikTok influencers, but the major stuff boils down to simple insights.

When I witness people who have endured tremendous pain turn that experience towards helping other people I remember that humans are capable of so much transcendence. These are the people who inspire me. Their courage and love is so remarkable it seems impossible, only available to saints and Buddhas.

Why is is so hard to believe in our better selves?

Perhaps we’re allowing our worst private scenarios too much time on the stages in our minds. Small errors are magnified to become monstrous acts. The spotlight hogs obsessive mulling over minor grievances.

Throw the cabbage! Give the better stories the headline act.

And laugh! Life is not always so serious, and even naval-gazers like myself realise that you must pay attention to the good times. A glorious evening with entertaining company is a passing treasure. Revel in the happiness. Look around at the details, imprint it in your memory.

Play that frivolous triumph upon your mind-stage regularly.

Hold fast to the marvellous stories in your life, and it will encourage you to aid those who are facing true turmoil.

Much love to you all!

‘The Ballad Singer’ by Henry Robert Morland, 1764.

1. Sadly, that won’t pay the electricity bill, but it might connect you to someone who can suggest a way to cover it.

2. And we’ve all lived through periods where we have rushed from salted pillar to burning bush while beating away the furies, shouting, “No more f*cking ‘life experiences’, please!”

3. Hardest of all: to know your mistakes, forgive them truly, and love yourself despite your flaws.