15 Aug For the Princesses: Honor the courage
A friend sent me an excerpt from Naomi Zacharias’s book, “The Scent of Water,” a few days ago. In it she discusses the reality of fairy tales and how we are so quick to focus on the happy ending that we miss the struggle the protagonists went through to get to there. It resonated so deeply with me that I have been listening to fairy tale classics, singing the songs of Pocahontas and Belle…just for fun. (And for courage.)
As a child my favorite princess was Ariel. (The redheaded mermaid, of course. It was love at first sight.) I cherished Cinderella and Belle. It seems as a little girl I was quick to overlook Pocahontas, Mulan, Jasmin, and others. Their stories for whatever reason were not the ones I resonated with. However, as an adult I find myself drawn towards the courageous and down to earth Pocahontas. I envy the sheer bravery and “cajones” Mulan had in order to impersonate a man to protect her father. Looking back I have a hard time figuring out how the main part of these stories we remember and carry with us are “Once upon a time,” and “they lived happily ever after.” What about the heartache, strife, and downright fight for their life in between? Why does that lose the glory?
Naomi writes,
“The resolve is only significant because of the magnitude of the darkness. It required a love and justice that were extraordinary to redeem what had gone so awfully wrong. The love that was grand is powerfully intoxicating. But we have chosen to overlook the pain and the price that the players paid to find it.“
Why do we overlook the pain and the price? It is true that the reward is only great because of the magnificent price paid.
As a culture, we are hot and cold on darkness and pain. We seem to be confused on what we believe about good and bad these days. What we watch, read, and use to entertain ourselves is truly…masochistic at times. Let’s be real…every time I turn on the tv or walk in a room where a tv is on, I am almost guaranteed to feel bad about myself, to question my value, and to complain about what I am lacking. We want kids to not be bullies or obese, but we entertain movies about psychopaths and serial killers, teenage girls who have adult problems (and, all to often, eating disorders). We are okay with and envious of magazines filled with images so completely distorted we would not recognize the original. As a culture our “this is good” or “this [should] give you the ‘uh-oh’ feeling” meter is out of whack. Is that why we hide from darkness? Because at least we can identify the good: Ariel got her legs and the Prince. Snow White woke up to his kiss. Cinderella moved to the castle. Aladin was welcomed into the palace. We know these things are all good endings. Is it possible that for us what is “bad” is blurry so we lean away to avoid the conflict? …maybe.
When you look at the stories of many of the princesses they were misunderstood originally…I don’t remember that part as a kid. I never realized that the entire opening song in Beauty and the Beast is about what a peculiar mademoiselle Belle is.
As a child, I was always the sort of outcast of my family. It’s no secret around here that I didn’t enjoy sports. Or that both of my siblings excelled in athletics, while I spent many of my weekends on the bleachers at their games. That was our life as a family growing up. I enjoyed books, crayons, music, and friends. Today the words of Belle, “I want adventure in the great, wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell,” resonate deeply inside of me. They did when I was a child as well…I was simply less aware of it. That peculiar, misfit, tall, chubby girl who couldn’t play a great game of basketball to save her life, she wanted more. And if my story ended on my wedding day…I would have “lived happily ever after” too.
But the story always continues, even after the pages of the book run out. A new chapter begins whether there is anyone there to read it or not.
I confessed to a friend tonight that my current circumstance is best described this way: I have cancer in my heart. My heart is entirely covered with this infectious, deadly illness. So I must cut it out. I cannot go on living with cancer without soon dying, but how do you go on living without a heart?
Darkness. Pain. Heartache. We don’t want to sit here. I think our mistake is to believe that there is not life here. It certainly feels that way though. How can there be life amidst this grave darkness and pain? I will tell you how…it is mostly only by the grace of God, who is Light Himself. It is also because with every breath there is light and life. Breath brings life. We give in to the belief that in darkness there can only be sorrow, suffering, destruction, and heartache. But what if there can also be courage, forward, slow motion, a step in the direction of healing? Is it possible? One could argue that without light you could never know where you’re going.
I completely agree with that, but I choose to believe that as long as there is breath in our lungs, there is the opportunity to live. As dark as this life may get, it cannot go completely black. So we muster the faint gray in the air, we gather the small beam here and there and we place them upon the ground in front of our feet so that with the next breath we can crawl towards the light.
When your favorite playlist is composed of the titles: Roar, Fighter, DONE., The Fighter, Titanium, Bulletproof, Breathe, Brave, Need You Now, and Still Breathing…you know there is a war being waged against darkness. Nothing quite as magical as “Colors of the Wind” …but it will do.
Fortunately, my war doesn’t include ogre size “Octupi” or scary, Chinese, Hun warriors, or even ignorant white men pulverizing beautiful worlds…nevertheless, it’s still my war. And the middle of the war is scary and dark.
So I would just like to take this moment to make a request of you. On behalf of all of the other heroes and heroines in the world…on behalf of everyone who has a beautifully brutiful story…remember our fight. Honor and cherish our victory and our happy endings (for I will get there), but do not be so shallow or idealistic to overlook and forget our big fights, our moments of bravery, the risks we took, and the opposition we faced head on. When we leaned in instead of running away.
For it was only a moment of the story that the shoes were shined, the jewels polished, and the clothes perfectly altered…the majority of the story…well, it required fightin’ apparel, messy hair, and bruised bodies.
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