Pain-bearer, Light-bringer

“What is to give light must endure the burning.” Viktor Frankl. In 1972, Frankl tried to counteract the prevalent stereotype about American college students – that all they wanted out of life was to make money. In a survey, he pointed out, only 16% of American college students had a main goal to make money. 78% of American students listed their main goal as finding a meaning and purpose in his or her life. I love Frankl’s work. If you aren’t familiar with him, he developed “logotherapy,” the “third Viennese School of psychotherapy,” following in the footsteps of Freud and Adler.

Frankl was Jewish and born in Austria. He turned 40 during the Holocaust, which he survived although his wife at the time did not. He taught at the University of Dallas for a while, and was so well regarded, he was made an honorary citizen of Texas! J He also taught at Cambridge and Harvard, but returned to Austria. He wrote 39 books based on his ideas about the human search for meaning, and he based much of his theory on what he witnessed and survived during the Holocaust. His thoughts echo many of the ideas from other survivors of the same imprisonment and massacre. Specifically, Elie Wiesel and Gerda Weissman Klein expressed deep commitment to the idea that meaning and attitude were everything to them and to the others who survived the concentration camps and death marches. How the survivors dealt with the atrocities were critical to how they made it through and continued thriving lives helping others in the aftermath.

Logotheraphy maintains the primary motivational force within humans is the drive to find meaning in life. Frankl proposed there are three principles supporting this theory: Life has meaning under ALL circumstances (including misery), the main motivation for life is our will to find a purpose/meaning, and we have freedom to find meaning in what we do or experiences (freedom to adjust our attitudes). Frankl equated the human “spirit” to the WILL to live, not a religious interpretation. Many will also equate spirit to the soul. I say that is up to you – your life, your spirit, your definition.

Frankl believed that humans were capable of resisting and braving the worst conditions, and his personal experiences/observations supported that belief. Two objective tests have been developed to measure a human’s meaning and purpose (PIL and SONG). They are used to predict how well a person might respond to logotherapy as a treatment.

As a storyteller, I find that it is easy for me to adhere to an interpretation that we all seek meaning in our lives. I have also seen it in action. Logotherapists argue that psychological damage occurs when something or someone blocks a person’s search for meaning. In some ways, this corresponds to Jung’s theories about the collective unconscious and understanding the anima/animus. Breaking away from the collective unconscious is one step toward a person’s individuation instead of enculturation and conformity. Finding one’s meaning in life is not easy, especially when it flies directly in the face of how we have been taught to behave and believe. Finding meaning in miserable circumstances is often a painful process. We don’t always get to choose our situations, like being born into a preacher’s household, or having a parent elected the US president. Those societal roles come with certain societal expectations – the person brought into that circumstance against their will, may or may not suffer depending upon how well that person can adapt the circumstance related to his or her meaning in life. Therefore, we humans have a multitude of sayings about surviving the fire, coming through the valley of shadow, and other comparisons to escaping a harrowing ordeal.

This symbolism was the major impetus behind my choice of a phoenix for the tattoo on my left arm. The tattoo serves me as a daily reminder that I have not only survived some miserable situations, but I have also thrived despite them. I have something to give back to others because I believe they can survive and thrive too. My purpose/meaning? To give light to others – to make the world a little bit better than it was before I came into it. Reflecting on the Frankl quote above, giving light is NOT easy or pleasant. Marianne Williamson echoes this idea nicely in her quote about our deepest fear being that we will find our Light and become powerful beyond measure (made famous in the movie, Coach Carter). Think about the items that produce light: candles, lanterns, light bulbs, our sun, fire… All of these light sources produce heat, and the medium carrying the flame or glow must be able to withstand the heat, or the light dies. The medium must ENDURE that which brings forth the light, sometimes over and over again. OF course, this quote led me to look up the definition of the word “endure.” Frankl was not a native English speaker, so I just wanted to be sure I understand the nuance of his statement…

Merriam-Webster defines “endure” as to continue to exists in the same state or condition, to experience (pain or suffering) for a long time, and to deal with or accept (something unpleasant). I have parentheses in the definitions because to endure is what we call a “transitive” verb. It must have a direct object to convey its full action as a verb. The direct object is a noun that receives the action of the verb. OK – that’s your grammar lesson for today. Quiz tomorrow!  J Endure is a perfect example of transition/transitive action. It passes action on to another object, transforming it for the subject of the sentence, the object performing the action. So, I could re-state Frankl’s quote as “A light-bringer must endure the burning of the light source.” Endurance, that most intimidating of the words we must perform. We must bear the pain we’ve endured to bring the light (knowledge) it produces to others.  Hmmmm, what do we know about light sources and their media? How long can light sources exist before they go out? I’m going to leave the thoughts there for now. Of course, I will post a story later on the blog!  You know I can’t let this go by without an illustration – a sharing of knowledge – a light-bringing to you. I bear the pain to share the knowledge. And it’s ok. I see the light in you – I share the smiles to represent the light we can pass from one to another. It only takes a spark to ignite a large fire… I believe in you.

The Alder King

Sir Oluf rode his horse through the gates of Grossarl much later then he had planned. The preparations for closing his summer city mansion had taken longer than expected. His head butler, usually a dependable fellow, had been stricken with the fever, so the second butler was trying his best to fill in the details. Sir Oluf’s son, Johann, hadn’t helped the situation either. The 5-year-old seemed to have done his best to scamper beneath every piece of furniture moved to storage, to hide under every dust cloth laid over the immovable pieces, and to spring from every trunk that needed to be packed.

The child slept in Sir Oluf’s arms, sitting astride the horse and leaning against his father’s stomach. His mother and sisters had moved to the winter house earlier that week. The lateness of the day, and the energy he’d used causing mischief at the city house had tired him. They were only able to eat a small supper of cheese and bread; everything else had been packed or eaten. It wasn’t a long horse ride to the winter cottage, perhaps 8 hours south, through the thick forest south of Grossarl. Sir Oluf didn’t plan to stop for any eating during the night as they traveled.

The sun was still above the horizon when Sir Oluf and Johann entered the forest. Sir Oluf kicked his mount’s ribs, encouraging the horse to pick up the pace while they could still see without a lantern. The horse shook its head and his gait increased as if agreeing the best way to travel was as quickly as possible. The browns, yellows, and reds of the autumn trees mingled with the rich evergreen of the pines. One could never tell if the autumn evenings would be stifling or cool, Sir Oluf thought. As if in response, a cool breeze ruffled the hair on his head and tiptoes down the back of his shirt. After shivering, he enjoyed the cooling sensation that ease the unexpectedly strenuous day.

“Papa,” Johann mumbled and shifted, “Are you cold?”

Sir Oluf looked down at the top of his youngest child’s head and chuckled. “No, son,” he murmured, “The wind tickled me is all that happened.”

Silence greeted him with a response. Johann had already fallen back into slumber. The man and his son cantered along the forest road easily for a while; the sun sank lower and lower beyond the mountain peaks. The darkness began to overtake them, and Sir Oluf slowed his horse to a steady walking pace with a light touch on the reins. The crisp wind stirred the branches and leaves in the forest, interrupting the otherwise silent forest with a pleasing brushing sound. Johann stirred for a moment in his father’s lap, “What did you say, Father?”

Sir Oluf looked down quickly, “Nothing, my boy. No one has spoken.”

“Hmmm, mmmk,” the little boy responded then let his head tilt away. A few moments later, “Papa! Why do you keep talking to me? You know I am sleeping!”

“I haven’t said anything, Johann,” the father insisted.

“Yes, you were whispering to me, Father,” the boy answered, “I couldn’t quite make out what you were saying. But I’m awake now, so you may as well tell me.”

Sir Oluf blinked his eyes. “I said nothing, son.” He noted the greyness of the forest twilight, and pulled his horse to a stop for a moment. He dismounted, taking a lantern and a flint from his saddle pouch. The lantern was lit in not time, and mounted to the end of a strong alder pole. Sir Oluf remounted, and he positioned the wooden pole into a special harness he crafted for the saddle. “Now we’ve got some light!”

Johann continued to peer into the trees and the side of the road. “Papa, did you just see that man, over there in the shadows? I’ve never seen him before, but he was smiling and waving at me.”

Startled, Sir Oluf scanned the treeline. There was nothing but darkness and trees stirring in the breeze. “Nonsense, Johann. No one is out in the woods at this time of night.”

“We are,” the child commented logically.

“Well, yes, WE are,” his father explained, “But we wouldn’t be if it hadn’t taken so long to close the house, and if YOU hadn’t interrupted the workers preparing to close the mansion.”

Johann giggled, “I’m sorry, Papa. It was just so much fun to pretend we were on a ship, and pirates were forcing us to pack everything and go with them!”

Sir Oluf shook his head slowly and his chest heaved up and down once. He grimaced in the low light, unwilling to comment on how much time his son’s antics had cost him. He would discuss it with the child tomorrow when they had settled into the winter home. Johan was entirely too reckless and imaginative. It was time he began to learn his responsibilities as a man of the house. With all those daughters, Sir Oluf would need all the help he could get, and he would need it soon! All those girls! Four of them before Johann had been born. He had begun to despair ever having a son, but little Johann had come along and set his mind at ease. Strangely, Johann had been the hardest of the five children to manage. He was constantly into mischief or merrymaking, playing jokes, or telling stories that distracted the servants from their tasks. Some of his jokes were entirely too rough for his sisters to hear. No, Sir Oluf thought, the boy needed some serious lessons in discipline.

“What, Papa?” Johann asked.

Did he hear my thoughts? Sir Oluf brought his mind back to the present. “I didn’t say anything. Again. Johann, is this another one of your jokes?”

“No, Papa,” the child whispered, “I thought I heard you say you were going to take me off this horse and teach me..”

Sir Oluf’s eyes widened. Hadn’t his very thoughts been so similar just a minute ago? As he contemplated the strangeness of the boy’s comment, Johann’s small voice rose above the breeze. “Look, Papa! Look! There’s the man I saw a little while ago at the side of the road!”

Peering into the lantern light ahead of them, Sir Oluf could see nothing, and he told his son so.

“But, Papa. Don’t you see him walking backward, just the edge of the light?”

Once more, Sir Oluf squinted and examined the perimeter of the lantern’s glare. Nothing. In the morning, he definitely needed to settle his son’s imagination once and for all. For now, he decided he would play along this one last time. One last adventure. “I thought I might have seen him! Was he the man wearing the blue velvet with tall black boots?”

Johann twisted his head toward his father, a puzzled looked on his face. “No. That’s not even close to what he was wearing. Are you sure you saw something?”

Sir Oluf huffed air impatiently, “No, Johann, I’m not sure. Why don’t you just describe the man you saw!”

Johann looked ahead for a moment. “He’s very tall and slender. He has long hair the color of roasted chestnuts and his fingernails are blood red. When he turns to look at me, his face and skin are white like chalk, but his eyes are a dark grey. He always smiles and motions for me to come with him.”

Sir Olus had never heard Johann imagine such an eerie character before. It must be the darkness of the forest, and the wind moving the tress that has stirred his imagination toward darker things, the father thought. They talked no more for a long while. The horse walked briskly in the coolness. Johann has nestled against his father’s stomach again. Sir Oluf let the swaying of the horse lull him into closing his eyes for a few moments. It had been such a long day…

“Papa!” Johann screamed as sat swiftly upright.

Sir Oluf, startled out of his doze, opened his eyes in panic. “What?! What is it, Johann!”

The child was leaning far over to the right side of the saddle as if to escape some devil’s grasp. “He was right there, Papa! He almost grabbed me! He keeps saying his name is the Alder King!”

Sir Oluf rolled his eyes and took another deep breath. He’d had enough of this childishness. “Son, you are to stop this game at once!”

“It’s not a game, Papa!” Johann insisted.

“I have had enough of your games today!” his father roared. His voice seemed to bounce back beneath the cover of the trees. “Your foolishness delayed our departure today, and now we are traveling through the forest, at night, both tired and worn out. I wanted to talk to you about this tomorrow, but you have forced the topic now. I will have no more of this pretending to see bogeys, or pirates, or whatever else your imagination comes up with to drive us away from our important tasks!  Do you hear me, Johann?”

Silence. Then, “Yes, Father.”

The forest was silent except for the steps on the horse’s hooves on the peaty path. The cool breeze had ceased its blowing. Stillness surrounded them, velvety and thick, enhancing the brightness of the light circle around them. Johann sniffled a little then put his shirt sleeve to his face. He immediately put it back down, remembering he shouldn’t wipe his nose on his clothes. He was learning. Sir Olaf pinched his lips together, regretful that he had yelled at the boy, but at least his silly invention had stopped. Sir Oluf knew Johann would have forgotten all about the incident in a few days’ time. The horse walked. Sir Oluf’s head drooped. Johann relaxed one more time against his father’s torso. Quietness embraced them, even subduing the horse’s blowing and measured gait. Sir Oluf was lucky to have such a well-trained horse that knew the way to the winter cottage.

A while later, a whinny pierced the silence, and Sir Oluf almost found himself thrown from the saddle. He clenched Johann’s body to him as their mount bolted down the path, galloping south. The man pulled hard on the reins. “Whoa, you bloody fool! Whoa!  Stop!”

The stallion ignored his master and continued to gallop toward the winter house. In the near distance, he knew the edge of the forest and safety awaited them. The animal had to save his little master.

Sir Oluf continued to try to make the horse obey his commands to slow down, but it soon became apparent the animal would not respond to his signals. The horse’s flanks lathered and it stretched itself out to a full gallop, breaking the riders away from the edge of the forest and onto a clear stretch of the road. Silver moonlight lighted the landscape, showing the horse and its riders the thatched roof of a large cottage in the distance. Sir Oluf held onto his son and lowered them both over the back of the horse’s neck, just trying to stay mounted.

In a matter of minutes, Sir Oluf and Johann were borne into the gateway of the winter house. The horse slowed to a walk, sides heaving with effort. Sir Oluf gripped Johann and swung them both out of the saddle. He glared at the stallion, wondering what the devil had gotten into him. The horse behaved as if the very hounds of hell had chased them over the three miles they had covered. Then he looked at his son. “Wake up, Johann.”

He shook the boy gently. Johann’s head lolled back against his father’s arm. His eyes were closed inside his small face. The moon’s light glowed against the white skin of Johann’s cheeks. His didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t smile.

“Johann!” Sir Oluf called louder, “Wake up, son!  We’re here. I don’t want to carry you to bed!”

The child remained still and silent. Sir Oluf looked more closely at his son’s face. Some of the stable servants had reached the house yard and caught the horse’s reins. They looked curiously at the man holding his son. Sir Oluf felt a coiling in his stomach.

“What’s the matter with you, boy!” Sir Oluf shook his son harder. Still nothing. Bending his head near to the small boy’s face, he listened for any sound. Nothing. No grunt, no murmur, no breath. No breath! Sir Oluf held his hand under the boys nose. He pressed his son’s chest to his ear. No breath! No heartbeat! “Noooooooo!” He dropped to his knees, cradling the child.

The men in the yard rushed toward their employer. “Nooooo! My son is dead!  Johann!  Johann! Noooooooo”

At the edge of the forest, a willowy silhouette turned to walk into the shadows of the trees. Next to him, small hand in large fist, a child turned to walk with him.

The Medial Nature - Walking in Two Worlds

It’s the beginning of a new month!  What a great opportunity to make the changes you’ve been thinking about. Been procrastinating? It’s the first day of the month, first morning of the month, and the first day of the rest of your life. WHAT are you waiting for?? Yes, it’s scary to make choices that will be best for you when you’re afraid that the repercussions will make others angry or uncomfortable. Remember, you live your life for YOUR happiness and contentment. That is the ONLY way you will bring happiness to others. When you make choices that allow you freedom, you give others permission to do the same. In small steps like that, we bring light to the world.

Some people have never been afraid of making decisions that rattle others. Toni Wolff, one of Carl Jung’s colleagues, helped him develop his theories on the anima/animus and the persona. She was an unusual woman for turn of the century 1900. Her parents had encouraged her to read, create, and learn. When she wanted to go to college, her father refused, acknowledging that society wouldn’t tolerate a woman with an “official” education. He did allow her to enroll in any college class she wanted as an unofficial student. Through her studies and her psychological work with Jung, she created her own theory about Walking in Two Worlds. Now, I have to say I just came across this woman’s name this morning, but I have been familiar with the “medial” nature of Two Worlds for a while. Actually, I have to give credit to my friend, Lauriston, again. He first mentioned the idea of one foot in the spiritual world and one foot in the physical world to me long ago. Lauriston, I need to write those Franciscans a thank you note!!!  J The medial nature should be familiar to many followers of spiritual practices. I know in my own faith, the New Testament writers wrote of being “in the world” but not “of the world.” Even Jesus was reported to say give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and give to God what is God’s. This is the essence of the medial nature.

In a practical sense for us, the medial nature is our spiritual portion - call it your soul or your spirit or whatever you want to call it. The medial nature draws strength or nourishment from the soul/spiritual center so we can navigate our physical world. Have you ever wondered where athletes get the strength to push through the hardest parts of their competitions? They aren’t suddenly given a spaghetti plate for more energy. Trainers can’t run out to the track and squirt water in their mouths. The medial nature helps us access that within us that we need to push on – our “guts,” our grit, our determination. Many people accomplish amazing feats by simply believing they have a “power” inside them to get things done. The medial nature also invigorates our creativeness – in whatever form that creativeness manifests itself in our lives. Although Toni Wolff lived in a different century, we can still recent examples of people in tune with their medial nature, people who allowed the medial nature to catalyze them into great bouts of creation.

When I read about Toni Wolff, I was particularly struck by how her method of college education so closely echoed the ideas of Steve Jobs. Jobs, the founder of Apple, didn’t complete a “formal” college degree. He despised the linear and constricted pathways to a degree offered by virtually every liberal arts college. Jobs wanted to take classes that interested him, and he believed the knowledge would come together in his mind, helping him bring innovation to his life, and maybe the world. He was right. By exercising his ability to step out of the “collective,” our restrictions and social contracts that bind us and sometimes imprison us, he created one of the most innovative, intuitive brands of computer technology available. As an educator, I admire Steve Jobs, even though he didn’t “get a degree.” He loved to learn, and he had motivation to continue to educate himself throughout his life. Although he is often held as an exception to the “rule” of public education, I believe if we had more flexibility in education and thought as Jobs did, we’d see many more people creating new ideas and tools… Of course, that is my opinion. J

There are numerous stories that address the way we limit ourselves to One World - I'll post one later! Questions to ask yourself regarding whether you exercise this medial nature: What is it that I’m made of? What have I brought to the world that is unique to me? What message do I have to give to others? What am I denying others by keeping parts of myself hidden? What have I cut off inside myself that makes me feel deadened? How obedient am I even when I instinctually know the rules I’m trying to follow are killing my spirit?

Work on figuring out some of the answers to those questions. It may take a while, and that’s ok. You won’t have a standardized test to pass to “prove” you have the answers to them… J Try walking a little in the Two Worlds today, and just see what comes loose inside you. Maybe there will be a smile you can give to others. Maybe you’ll shake loose some tears that you can share with others – that’s NOT a bad thing… I see you. I believe in you. You have the strength to grow and become all that of which you are capable.