The business of stories is not enchantment. The business of stories is not escape. The business of stories is waking up. ~ Martin Shaw
Dear Springhouse community,
This year I am writing my letters about what I often refer to as the source of life. There are many ways I have explored my relationship to the mysteries of life–spiritual practices, the rhythms of the Earth, and several wisdom traditions to name a few. One of the most magical and fun ways I have explored my relationship to this source is through the whimsy and wisdom of fairy tales.
As a child, I used to carry around a large white book of tales wherever I went. I still remember the smell of the pages. As an adult, I was in a fairy tale group led by a Jungian analyst where we explored tales like dreams to explore our inner lives. Of all the stories, one of my favorites continues to be the old tale of Cinderella. Several years ago, I wrote an article for an education innovation network about this tale in relation to surrendering to the power of life and the ways life regenerates all things. Here are some thoughts from that article.
We cannot make regeneration happen. It is simply how life functions; in cycles that include birth, sustaining life, and death. Though we don’t make regeneration happen, we can take care of and support the process in ways that allow us to thrive. We can put ourselves in the way of regeneration by aligning with life; by taking good care of ourselves, each other, and this planet. This is a tall order in a dominant culture that is mostly doing the opposite. I love how the story of Cinderella going to the ball illustrates the kind of surrender of will needed to partner with life and its creative power.
Cinderella cannot get to the royal ball on her own. The night of the ball her stepmother, out of jealousy, locks Cinderella in the tower. The envious stepmother ripped the dress that Cinderella herself had sewed, and then she and her two daughters left for the ball. Cinderella had reached the limits of her will. She could not sew a new dress, as the ball was happening right in that moment. She could not get out of the tower by herself. She definitely couldn’t afford a new dress, a golden carriage, footmen, and a driver. She was in a tight spot. Enter the fairy godmother, arriving to do what seems to be impossible. She was there to make things new. Cinderella prepared herself for this encounter by tilling the ground to not only receive such a gift, but she knew it enough to trust it, and work with it.
As we hear in the story, Cinderella had been showing up to the beauty of life for some time. She could speak with animals and was deeply connected to the Earth. Even when circumstances were grim, or maybe even especially, Cinderella turned to her connection to something larger than herself; the regenerative powers of the Earth. She was ready and prepared to see the fairy godmother when she appeared, and she was humble enough to be guided by her. If we think the human will alone will save us from our problems, not just in education but in the many failing cultural systems we now know aren’t working, we will remain in the mess we are in. Many ancient wisdom traditions and folktales speak to this power, but any musician or artist knows this kind of surrender. You can’t make good music if you hold your breath and force it. If you have ever paddled a river, and rather than partnered with it and tried to control it, you know the need for this kind of surrender. Aligning with life is a natural act and we, for better or for worse, have a choice as to whether or not we will.
Life will take care of a lot if we let it. We partner with it, like Cinderella, first by cultivating a relationship with it, then learning how to work with it. There is no greater teacher than the Earth when it comes to learning about the limits, and misguided dangers, of relying solely on the human will. I have long been enamored with Mount St. Helens, even traveling there as a teen, and gathering a little of the dust from its eruption in an old prescription bottle to take home with me. After its eruption in the 1980s, the force of life restored the surrounding area around Mt. St. Helens (even though humans with good intentions thwarted her efforts in some ways), and it is now more biodiverse than it was before the eruption. Whether the stepmother liked it or not, Cinderella allowed something new to happen, and she went to the royal ball. That’s how powerful life is; it can outsmart the destructive forces of this world, and not only restore a devastated landscape, but make it thrive.
We must learn how to partner with life to create conditions for both the individual and collective to reach our highest potential. We were born to thrive. One of my most treasured teachers, Meg Wheatley writes,
“When we deny life’s need to create, life pushes back. We label it resistance and invent strategies to overcome it. But we would do far better if we changed the story…We need to work with these insistent creative forces or they will be provoked to work against us.”
We can partner with life and design our lives and communities in ways that bring us more fully alive. When we protect and sustain the ways of life that allow us to thrive, in place over time, and pass those ways down to younger generations, we slowly create a world where all life thrives. We can do this in partnership with this life force and create the conditions for us all, and this Earth, to thrive. We don’t manage or facilitate regeneration. It happens, and we can either respect it and take care of it to see what might be possible, or not.
At Springhouse, we are choosing to design our lives and community around life and its regenerative qualities. I hope you will join us as we continue to grow our adult community–practicing with others who want to live in ways that are more deeply aligned with life. You can learn more on our online learning platform.
May the whimsy and magic of old stories continue to wake us up,
and may we continue to live in ways that create a thriving world for all,
Jenny
