Transformation and the Butterfly

I was introduced to the Rorschach inkblot test during a session with a therapist many years ago. The inkblots are a test of projection in Western psychology used to determine aspects of a patient’s personality. Deviating from its traditional use, the therapist asked me to describe what I saw in each inkblot. She gave me feedback on my internal processes based on the general meaning associated with each card. Looking at one of these cards, I said that I saw a bat. A few seconds later I said that it looked more like a butterfly. She said that my projections reflected aspects of night and day. In working through my darkness, I transformed it into something beautiful. Unsurprisingly, the butterfly again showed up in a reading of Native American medicine cards which someone did for me a few years later. In Native American language, the butterfly offers medicine of transformation.

The stages in the life cycle of a butterfly (egg, caterpillar, pupa and butterfly) show that each form or aspect is appropriate at the time. Only when the time is right will the butterfly change its form – the process cannot be rushed. The caterpillar is already a butterfly at its core (although not yet in form) and the butterfly has the caterpillar in its memory. There is no reason to believe that the butterfly is the ideal or the end goal, because each stage offers the organism what it needs to survive and be itself. Butterfly medicine teaches that when we think of our future dreams, we might want to remember that we are the dream. In continuing on our personal life path, we will reach a stage of full maturity and bright colours. The dream has been planted in our hearts in the same way that the life cycle of the butterfly is programmed into the organism inside the egg. The former versions of ourselves stay inside us as a reminder of the path we have walked and the experience gained.

Possibly the most interesting stage in the life cycle of the butterfly is the pupa. In this stage, the organism transforms inside a protective shell, although no change is visible from the outside. In terms of butterfly medicine applied to personal transformation, this is the often painful and confusing time when inner work has to be done. It may feel like nothing is changing in our outside reality and it could be a time of great frustration if we want to rush the process. In truth it is a time when we are preparing for a more mature phase of existence where our colours and brightness will be on display. We may feel stuck and impatient, but in this stage a protective shell is necessary until we are ready to emerge in a different aspect of ourselves. This can be a time of darkness and confusion, but once the transformation is complete, the shell that provided the darkness becomes waste material that can be cast off. On the other side of darkness, the shell material can be seen to have been an important part of the process even if it is no longer needed. The bits that have been discarded merge with the flow of nature, where it becomes compost for another cycle of life.

Of course we are humans, and our lives are infinitely complicated by the fact that we have brains, egos and conflicting desires. But we can still learn from the wisdom in nature, and butterfly medicine shows the importance of consciously participating in our own transformation while being kind to ourselves through our darkness. The message here is to accept that change will happen when we are ready. Each phase of our journey can be appreciated as a vital part of the whole.

Death is a Friend

Death is a friend in the shadows. There are those who do not believe in life after death, but I am not one of them. Death validates our existence.

Death represents both the unknown and the known. It is life’s greatest mystery, but also the only certainty we have. Death shows that everything is in a constant state of decay. That is good, because it means we have new opportunities all the time. Whatever we create will be destroyed, which means we can continually explore new possibilities.

Some believe that after death we will be judged on how deserving we were as people. I think we are continually judged in life by ourselves and others on how good we are. If we are not careful, this judgement can prevent us from actually living.

Death is a constant companion whose presence can be applied to our advantage. When I think about the fact that I will not be here for ever, the need to live in a way that is worthwhile is all the more pressing. If we embrace the idea of death, we also embrace the mystery of life. Accepting the fragile co-existence of life with death offers an opportunity to relinquish a mode of existence where we don’t determine our own steps. To escape from cycles of time, we can realise that where we are is enough, because there are multiple possibilities to choose from. Stepping into unknown territory can create a new map for our life.

Ultimately death is about more than our life coming to an end. It is the knowledge that wherever we find ourselves, we will not remain there for ever. Death is also change – the hand of Father Time that tells us when to stay and when to go, when to wait, reap and sow. To me it is also the knowledge that while we cannot live every moment in a spectacular way and although we will make many mistakes along the way, doing our best is usually enough.

Symbolism of Snake and Choice

The snake has fascinating connotations in religious and spiritual mythology of many traditions. While in the Bible the snake is associated with evil, this is not the case in all mythology. There is a trend of dragonish or serpentine figures being slain in acts of heroism in some folklore. I find the similarity between the serpentine symbolism in the Biblical Garden of Eden and the Garden of Hesperides in Greek mythology particularly remarkable, although in the latter the dragon is not associated with evil. In both cases there are fruits that need to be guarded, a tree and a serpentine creature associated with the fruits, although the story is different in each case. These are just two of the many myths. I will look at a few other mythical examples before offering my own reflections on the symbolism of the snake.

Image By Geoff Gallice (from Wikimedia Commons)

The Greek poet Nicander of Colophon told a story concerning a snake in his work Theriaca (On Harmful Animals). The venom of the snake under discussion would cause an inordinate amount of thirst in a victim that has been bitten, to such an extent that they would drink water until their belly bursts without finding relief. The description of the harmful animal is then followed with a myth concerning the snake. The god Cronos gave humans immortality, but they became weary because of its weight and gave it to a donkey to carry. The donkey ran off because it was thirsty and encountered the snake, which it asked to help it. The snake took the donkey’s burden but also acquired its thirst, which explains why its venom causes so much thirst and also how humans lost their immortality. Since the reign of the god Cronos is associated with the Golden Age, this myth can be considered a variant on the fall from grace. It also suggests a link with the snake’s association with alchemy.

The myth of the Twelve Labours of Hercules is an example of the theme of serpents being slain. One of Hercules’ tasks was to slay the Lernaean Hydra, a monster with several serpentine heads of which one was immortal. During the battle each head, after being severed, would be replaced by two more. Hercules eventually succeeded by scorching the stump of each severed head using fire. He severed the immortal head using a golden sword and buried it under a rock. Interestingly, Lerna is also the site of the Danaids in Greek mythology. These women were condemned to spend eternity in the underworld carrying water in sieves. The association of leaking water brings to mind Nicander’s notion of excessive thirst, although the connection is not direct. The theme of gold also shows up in this myth through the sword.

The story of Medusa is one of a woman with serpentine hair whose stare would turn people to stone. She was beheaded by the hero Perseus, after which the severed head was used as a weapon. Symbolically I think there is a deeper meaning to Medusa’s death stare since the eyes are the windows of the soul. To me Medusa (meaning guardian or protectress) had the power to disarm people because she could see through them, peering into their souls, which made them powerless against her. Looking at it that way, the serpentine connection with the garden and the tree with fruits either of knowledge or of immortality becomes clearer. Medusa’s disarming death stare implies knowledge of an order beyond what the normal eye can see.

In the more recent literature of JK Rowling’s Harry Potter series, the serpent is associated with great evil. One of the central themes of the work, however, is the choice between good and evil which boils down to the power of love or the love of power. Lord Voldemort is the evil wizard who strove for immortality and corrupted his own soul in his quest for power. Harry is his counterpart who also has the rare gift of being able to talk to snakes. Unlike Lord Voldemort, Harry is a fairly ordinary wizard who has love and courage on his side, which enables him to achieve victory against evil together with his loved ones. In this case also, some form of extra-ordinary knowledge is implied in the gift of being able to communicate with snakes. The duality of choice is emphasised, which reminds of the fall from grace in the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve’s awareness of self is symbolised by the realisation that they were naked. Ego consciousness implies limitation, which is also necessary to define oneself through one’s actions. The different possibilities that this presents gave rise to evil being released in the world.

In my personal meditations, the snake communicated to me the origins of our existence as souls taking material form. In many cultures, the snake is associated with healing and wisdom. When asking why this theme showed up and what its use was to me at this point, I received the message that the snake teaches about essence. The choice is not necessarily between good and evil or even fear and love, but about being true to the deeper levels of one’s being or not. When rooted in one’s spiritual essence, balance is easier to achieve in the physical world. The choice then is not about manoeuvring between what makes more or less sense in the practical world or choosing right over wrong; rather it’s a matter of interacting with one’s surroundings in a way that reflects one’s personal truth.

This brings me to the next point: the snake’s habit of shedding its skin. We often think of growing in terms of painful learning processes or moving away from things that no longer work. The snake however teaches that although it sheds its skin when it is time for it to do so, this happens when there is more of the snake. The snake literally becomes too large for its old coating, after which it forms a new one to accommodate its larger size. This is a never-ending process happening in regular intervals throughout the snake’s lifetime. I like to think of it as assimilating experiences into the self, consequently having more at one’s disposal to use and apply on one’s path while also becoming stronger in the process. For a week or two before each shed the snake enters a period of inactivity, associated with impaired eyesight and general dullness, sometimes aggression. After shedding its skin, the new skin is somewhat vulnerable until it is adapted. Symbolically this sounds a lot like the human personal growth process to me. After shedding its skin, some snakes defecate or drink water, which brings to mind purification and also connects with Nicander’s story of the snake’s thirst.

To me the message was useful because of the personal conflicts I have with career, work and personal convictions. I am at a point where I feel I have to find a way of aligning work with purpose. It is no use waiting for someone to encourage me, give me opportunities or tell me that it’s right. I have conflict with the idea of selling myself, not only because it is easier to respond to an advertisement knowing that a service is needed, but possibly also because I have grown up with the idea of a standard being set by someone and everyone can compete. According to this notion, an independent judge or objective measurement will be the arbiter of who has done best, which makes obtaining something fair regardless of the players’ (possibly questionable) tactics. I now realise that my choice comes down to living and acting my beliefs on one hand or hiding them where they cannot be criticised on the other. If I don’t want to sell myself because of my negative associations with the concept, I will promote someone else’s beliefs without giving thought to whether it is beneficial for me or anyone else. My challenge is therefore to be as authentic as possible in everything I do, not only the areas where I consider it safe or where I feel the rules allow it.

Spirituality is only useful if it can be applied in a practical sense. In the end everything we give energy to is spiritual because we build the world based on our beliefs and actions. The serpentine wisdom could be the knowledge that if we live our true essence, the immortality of the soul is our natural state of being. On earth we need to harmonise it with our material existence, but it does not need to be enforced. From my perspective, that is also the difference between the true kind of power and the one based on illusion.

Source for biological information on snakes: http://www.animalhospitals-usa.com/reptiles/snakes/snake-shedding.html 

Source for literary and mythological information: Wikipedia and some ancient texts.

The Widow’s Jar

I have written a previous blog entry offering my interpretation of the Greek myth of Pandora’s jar as signifying a wish for fulfilment that can never be realised. The theme of women’s jars associated with fulfilment reminded me of a Biblical story I remembered from my childhood. I decided to find and re-read the story of the widow’s jar of oil. So much of what we take for granted in the world is based on ideologies of success through having. From my perspective, striving for something more often than not produces the experience of lacking. Most of what we want and need is readily available when we ask for it. However, we also have limitations in the physical world. What follows is my personal interpretation of the story of the widow’s jar as I think it beautifully illustrates the concept of abundance.

The story (appearing in the book 2 Kings 4) is of a woman approaching the prophet Elisha because her husband is deceased and she fears the creditors will enslave her sons as repayment for debt. The widow claims to have nothing in her house except a small jar of olive oil. The prophet instructs her to ask her neighbours for empty jars and fill them with the olive oil. From her small bottle she manages to fill all the empty jars. When she has filled the last jar, the oil stops flowing. The prophet tells her to sell the oil and use her money to pay her debts. He tells her that they will be able to live on what is left.

Image from Wikimedia Commons. Author: Hans Bernhard

Where Pandora embodied the gifts of the gods and her jar is associated with the evils caused by desire, the story of the widow is about freedom of enslavement in the midst of sorrow. The woman asks for help and it is given, both by the prophet and her neighbours. She uses what she has available. As she does so, the oil keeps flowing, giving her what she needs to free herself and her boys of enslavement. To me this story communicates that when we are willing to ask for help and use our abilities, there will always be enough for our needs. Interestingly the olive has various symbolic associations with peace, again contrary to all the evils flying out of Pandora’s jar. It takes no genius to realise that if everybody adopted the approach of the widow and her neighbours in using what they have, taking only what they need and recycling what they don’t need, every person’s needs would be met. If that was the common attitude, I believe peace would be the natural outcome. No studies, policies or displays would be needed to improve the situation for all humans.

The myth of Pandora contains warnings of being consumed by what we desire. Looking at the world I cannot help being amazed at how we seem to be ruled by an ideology according to which most of our efforts should go towards having more. One aspect of it is that no matter how much one has, it is never enough. Another aspect of it is the fear of being unable to make a living; in that sense literally not having enough. Sadly I think the former produces the latter and that they are flipsides of the same coin. Personal experience of the mind-set will probably depend on where one falls on the wheel of fortune at any given point in time. Unfortunately I also think that the latter produces the former: I doubt whether abuse, greed and exploitation would have been easy if everyone devoted their efforts to what they loved doing rather than trying to survive.

Both these stories contain wisdom, asking us to look at ourselves and how we collectively create the world through our ideas and interactions with the world. The widow’s jar of abundance is no instant route to riches, but a rather bleak portrayal of God’s grace in the harshest of circumstances. A woman who is at the mercy of her circumstances finds an impossible way out of her predicament. To me, this story asks us to question our assumptions of what is possible or not in terms of survival and enslavement. More than that, however, it points the way to the true source of abundance. The widow’s oil was not something she had to obtain or fight for, but something from her own home. Perhaps the antidote to being consumed by Pandora and her jar – the riches outside of ourselves - is the realisation that what we have to begin with is enough to make it work for us.

What I Love About Weeds

Nature often talks to me in unexpected ways. Yesterday morning I went running and ended up on a road where earth has been removed to make way for the road going around the hill. The rock wall that remains as a result would have looked naked if it were not covered with creepers. This served as a beautiful reminder that nature always finds a way. In the environment of civilisation where I often feel oppressed and yearn for connection with nature, I’m beginning to realise that living in harmony with other living entities should not be that difficult to achieve. Amid the global panic about the destruction to the planet that humans cause, I’m dealing with my own lack of trust that I can make a living outside of systems governed by power.

 

Nature Taking Over

Through my current studies of mythology, slavery, and ancient civilisations I am forming the idea that systems of control and abuse of power are fuelled by the need to possess life and enabled by the artificial constructs that make this illusion possible. From my perspective, a lot of the social and economic problems in the world can more or less be linked with possession and control of life. The destruction caused to the planet makes me feel anxious, but the creeper covering the rock wall reminded me that life always finds a path to continue. It is powerful precisely because it yields: if life is killed it shows up somewhere else. Ultimately domination cannot have the final say because the life force that brought us here is stronger.

The creeper reminded me about a conversation I had with someone about fallen sports heroes. I expressed my surprise that anyone would want to cheat if they know that they did not truly win. My friend told me about the weekend he spent weeding in the garden. He compared the persistent appearance of weeds to the propensity to entertain dubious morals. He said that like weeds, unwanted thoughts can grow in the mind. If they are not confronted and removed, they lead us to justify our actions when we know they are not right. We talked about the generation before us and how easily people who generally had an interest in living justly accepted apartheid South Africa. When we asked older people whether they had felt any sense of injustice with the segregation of black and white, they told us that authorities used the Bible to justify apartheid and they did not dare question. To my friend, weeds represented those aspects of ourselves that we sweep under the carpet. From that point of view, the tendency to delude ourselves about our own infallibility had to be confronted head on and removed before it could corrupt us.

Even from his symbolic perspective weeds are a gift. The dark corners of our mind that we would rather not confront are more health-giving when they see the light of day. If the weeds of our psyche make us feel uncomfortable, they usually have a message for us. Rather than killing them or throwing them out, I think we could realise that they are a form of life giving us a message. Life is on our side and even through our darkness we are presented with opportunities to grow and become whole.

Achieving the Present Moment

I am writing this in response to ideas I have encountered that “being in the present” would make our burdens lighter. I’m wary of easy answers to life’s trickiest challenges: painting reality in a rose-coloured tinge usually just serves to sweep things under the carpet. Unfortunately it seems that it is an easy way to make money because people would rather buy into easy answers than face up to challenges. I am not in favour of creating unnecessary problems either. My approach is to confront the darkness as in this way it dissolves, making space for a new experience. Positive thinking should not require effort or favour denial – a simple change in attitude can do the job to make a person feel lighter. This brings me to the often prescribed cure for troubles: being “in” the present moment. More often than not such cures make me feel worse: in addition to what I’m dealing with, I feel frustrated for being unable to feel better when supposedly it is easy.

There is a reason why people drift out of being present to the moment in the first place. There is the hope that things will be better later: the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. Sometimes hope is all that gets a person through a difficult time. When this is the case, things do get better and are in fact often much better than before. The process by which we lose touch with where we are is tangled up with the principle by which society is run: that there is always something to achieve. It is not easy to reverse the conditioning that our existence has to be earned.

The present is the only chance we have to make significant changes that could affect the future. It is also where we have to confront all that we would rather not deal with. It is when we stop to take stock that the monster we have been hiding in the closet begs to see the light of day. Acknowledging what we feel is far more challenging than continuing an existence that runs to a promised future laid out by everyone else. Being present entails taking responsibility for the direction we are heading in. This is really frightening when one doesn’t know which steps would be the right course of action.

Being in the present is not something that has to be obtained. Rather, the most beneficial use of the present entails reversing the notion that there is something to achieve. Rather than searching for the gift in the present or worrying about doing it right, I propose that realising that we are in the present anyway is the key to bringing about change. This does not mean that everything will be rosy or that we are escaping our troubles; rather, it’s the opposite.

The present is the opportunity we have to connect the points of the past and future, healing what needs to be healed and aligning our steps with what we find meaningful. It does not mean that the sailing will always be smooth, but it does give us the opportunity to steer our own ship. In this way, we do not need to achieve ourselves. The dream has already been created – it is the reason why it showed up in our hearts in the first place. The present asks us to have the courage to see it through, bringing our most vulnerable parts to light.

Is Art Worth Dying For?

I went to see the film Monuments Men this weekend and had mixed feelings about it. The film is about men who journeyed across Europe during World War II to protect works of art. It was presented to me as “based on a true story” although I’m not sure how much of it is true. I generally detest any kind of heroism or romanticising of a past that makes me ashamed of being human. At the same time I do not wish to dismiss the courage these men showed to protect what they love, nor to disregard the loss to the families of those who died (if that part was rooted in fact). I did not like the fact that America was portrayed as the saviour in a good guy/bad guy narrative when what we should be reflecting on is how we got here in the first place and how as humans we can do it better. I realise that my personal objectives might not match those of mainstream entertainment or have anything to do with the plot of the film. However, I’m not sure how relevant the beautiful French woman’s unsuccessful attempt to seduce an American man with strong family values was either. I could only attribute it to a viewer’s perceived need to emotionally relate to stereotypes.

My Dubious Rendering of Renoir's Nude in the Sunlight

The quest to protect art seems admirable but I can’t help thinking that it’s because we swallow these kinds of discourses that abuse of power is enabled. Mainstream media gives us what we are willing to pay for. I am in no position to dictate what should and should not be shown on the big screen but I sometimes wish more people would question what is fed to us through culture and the media. The central question of whether art is worth dying for gave me some food for thought though. Whilst my answer is an emphatic “no”, my aversion to glorifying the fight against a malevolent force made me consider the question of who we would be if we did not have a polarity to define ourselves against. If there was nothing to achieve, protect or prove, would it make a difference to what we are currently applying our efforts to?

The concept of “fighting for something” in the face of oppression reminded me of an article I read as an honours student in psychology many years ago. I’ll have to rely on memory so I’m speaking under correction, but the article had a huge impact on me. It was about a series of suicide cases among previously disadvantaged men in post-apartheid South Africa. They were in an age group where people typircally pursue careers in a geographic setting that had formerly been characterised by division between white and coloured communities. These men have moved beyond their previously disadvantaged background to become successful. Because of this, they didn’t quite fit in with their old background any more, but neither could they integrate with their new peers. Not only have they lost their sense of community with people who had shared in their struggles, but what had been expected to be a better future had finally been achieved. Since they no longer had anyone to fight against, anyone to oppress them or people who could relate to them in shared troubles, they had to face a new kind of despair which they hadn’t anticipated while still striving for an ideal of perceived freedom. I’m sure the study could not accurately capture the complexity of these men’s decision to end their own lives, but it does point to the danger associated with believing that emancipation is on the other side of the fence.

When I was in high school, a multiple Olympic gold medallist visited us as a motivational speaker. She talked of her experience after winning her first double Olympic gold medal. Again relying on (my) memory, she said that after the high had worn off, she was faced with a terrible feeling of emptiness. She mentioned that there are more suicide cases of Olympic gold medallists than silver or bronze. On her personal journey, she had to find God to fill the void that was left behind by the striving for a victory finally achieved. Having resolved the dilemma, she could approach her sporting career with renewed vigour, which led to her breaking more world records.

Since I believe in a soul purpose beyond my ego self, I have asked myself what I would be doing if there were no such thing. My answer boils down to choosing life or death. I can choose to be the living dead, in which case I give up and accept that everyone else is in charge. In that case I would avoid any kind of difficulty while I go through the motions until I die. Alternatively I could choose life, which entails accepting that my life is my own and I decide what is important to me. If in choosing life even if I didn’t believe in a soul purpose my answer would be the same as where I’m currently applying my efforts to, I conclude that I am on the right track.

My Own Painting from a Photo

Returning to the question of whether or not works of art are worth dying for. The initial stance in the film was that no work of art is worth more than any man’s life. At the end the question was asked whether the men who have died during the quest would have considered it worthwhile if they knew that others could appreciate the works of art because of them and the answer was yes. The idea to me seems ridiculous. I doubt whether life would be worthwhile if the freedom to create and share art had to be taken away. But dying for any works of art that some great minds from the past have created is preposterous because new art can always be created.

There is one work of art that each of us will die for, whether we like it or not. While the canvas of life might not be entirely blank to begin with, we certainly have an extent of freedom in what we choose to create. The question I consider most relevant is how to make the one work of art that I will die for worth the while.