A Synopsis of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (Blog #558)

Recently I spent ten days working backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. This afternoon, as an act of mourning, celebration, and education, I read the book on which the musical and movie were based–The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum–for the first time. And whereas the musical and movie contain much of the original story, they leave many notable details out.

Prepare yourself for a rather long (but entertaining) book report.

According to the Baum, Aunt Em never smiles, and she, Uncle Henry, and Dorothy (and Toto) are the only characters who live in Kansas. (Later we find out that the wizard is from Omaha, Nebraska.) There’s no mention of the three farmhands–Hunk, Hickory, and Zeke–nor is there any mention of Miss Gulch, and Dorothy never runs away or encounters Professor Marvel.

When Dorothy is swept up by the tornado and lands in Munchkin Land, she finds out that the land of Oz is divided into four sections–the east, where she’s landed, where the Munchkins live, and that used to be ruled by The Wicked Witch of the East; the west, ruled by The Wicked Witch of the West; the north, ruled by The (nameless) Witch of the North; and the south, whose details we find out later. The City of Emeralds (or The Emerald City) is in the center of all four lands. The Yellow Brick Road goes from the east to The Emerald City, and there’s NO ROAD that goes to the west.

At this point in the story, The Wicked Witch of the West does NOT appear in Munchkin Land, but Dorothy does receive a pair of magical shoes from The Witch of the North, the shoes that used to belong to The Wicked Witch of the East. However, these shoes are silver, NOT ruby, and it’s only at a later point–when Dorothy changes from a red dress into her famous blue and white gingham dress–that she puts the shoes ON. The dress, which she’s brought (in her house) from Kansas is significant because all the Munchkins wear blue and believe that anyone who wears white is a sorceress. So (like Jesus), they see Dorothy as both one of them (or human) and divine.

As we all are.

As Dorothy sets off to see the Wizard–who’s referred to as The Great and Terrible, NOT The Great and Powerful–she quickly encounters The Scarecrow, The Tin Woodman, and The Cowardly Lion, much like she does in the musical and movie. Baum describes The Scarecrow–who’s supposed to have no brain–as saying things “thoughtfully” or “after some serious thought.” At first I judged these descriptions as either poor writing or pure irony, but one could argue that they are neither, as all the main characters clearly possessed that which they were seeking the whole time but simply didn’t realize it yet.

As we all do.

Another interesting point the book makes is that just as The Scarecrow didn’t have a brain (or a heart), The Tin Woodman didn’t have a heart (or a brain). But, for different reasons, one values the head above the heart, and the other values the heart above the brain, so each seeks what is important to him even though both things are “missing.” Personally, I think one should have, value, and use both their brain AND their heart.

In the scene in which Dorothy, The Scarecrow, and The Tin Woodman encounter The Cowardly Lion, the lion asks if Toto is made of straw or tin. Neither, Dorothy says, he’s “a meat dog.”

Before reaching The Emerald City, Dorothy and her friends encounter a number of trials, none of which have anything to do with The Wicked Witch of the West. Like in the musical and movie, one of these trials is the poisonous poppy field, where they initially have to leave the lion–who falls asleep–but later come back to save him. (They haul him out on a cart made by The Tin Woodman and are assisted in pulling it by hundreds of field mice.) When they do reach The Emerald City, they are required to wear green spectacles, which they are told is to protect their eyes from all the shiny objects and is something everyone has to do. Later, when it’s found out that the wizard is a fraud (“a humbug”), they’re told the spectacles are used to fool both the citizens and visitors into believing that everything is green even though in reality it’s not.

The book says that Dorothy and her friends get to see the wizard, but they have to do it separately. The wizard appears in a different form to each one, but asks them all to do the same thing–kill The Wicked Witch of the West. (Because he’s not really a wizard, he’s a afraid of her.) In the musical and movie, he asks that they bring him her broomstick, but the broomstick isn’t mentioned in the book at all–because, like Mary Poppins, the witch carries AN UMBRELLA!

Also, in the book, the witch has ONE EYE instead of two.

So Dorothy and the gang take off a-witch-hunting, but by this point, the one-eyed witch has found out about them, so she sends 40 wolves to have their asses for dinner. (The Tin Woodman chops their heads off.) Then she sends 40 crows. (The Scarecrow breaks their necks.) Then she sends a swarm of bees. (They break their stingers on The Tin Woodman’s chest.) Then she sends 12 Winkies, which are yellow, by the way, the same way the Munchkins are “blue.” (The Lion scares The Winkies off.) Finally, the witch sends the winged monkeys, whom she controls by means of a golden cap. The caveat–whoever has the golden cap can only command the monkeys three times, and this is the witch’s final “wish.”

But the monkeys succeed. (In the musical, a creature called The Jitterbug causes the main characters to dance until they are exhausted, at which point the flying monkeys scoop them up. The Jitterbug scene was shot for the 1939 movie–during the peak of the Lindy Hop/swing dance/jitterbug era–but was ultimately edited out.)

In the book, it’s only Dorothy and the lion who are brought to the witch’s castle; the other two friends are left in the woods to be rescued later. And whereas the lion is kept outside to starve to death (Dorothy saves him by sneaking him food each day), Dorothy is kept in “the house” to do dishes, much like Cinderella was. Of course, what the witch really wants is Dorothy’s shoes, and when she finally manages to steal ONE of them but not the other, Dorothy gets pissed off and throws a bucket of water on her, and it’s then that the witch both melts and dies.

And Dorothy gets her other shoe back.

At this point, Dorothy and the lion rescue their two lost friends, and since Dorothy has taken the golden cap from the witch, the four of them (and Toto) are ultimately transported back to The Emerald City by the winged monkeys. (These guys are better than Uber.) From here, the storyline pretty much follows the musical and movie, except that when the wizard takes off in the hot air balloon, The Witch of the North DOES NOT show up to save the day. Rather, our heroes are forced to take off on more adventures, and this time they go in search of The Witch of the South–Glinda–who lives in a land where everything is RED and sits on a throne made of RUBIES.

MGM (who made the movie) obviously COMBINED The Witch of the North with The Witch of the South.

Nowhere in the book (that I remember) is the phrase “lions and tigers and bears–oh my!” used. However, while the four friends are going south in search of Glinda, the come upon a land where everyone and everything is made of china (The Dainty China Country), and each of the characters except the lion says, “Oh my!”

Once the four travelers reach Glinda, she indeed teaches Dorothy how to use her magical shoes in order to get back home. But first she uses the golden cap, which Dorothy gives her in exchange for her help, to call three times upon the winged monkeys ato The Scarecrow back to rule The Emerald City (as the wizard asked him to do when he left in the hot air balloon), The Tin Woodman back to rule The Winkies in the west, and The (no-longer) Cowardly Lion back to rule a particular forest.

So Dorothy clicks her heels together three times and is whisked (in three steps) across “the desert” and back home to Kansas. (The shoes fall off her feet along the way.) However, during this whole ordeal, she never says, “There’s no place like home.” She does that earlier, when she meets The Scarecrow, who says he doesn’t understand why Dorothy would want to go back to dull, drab Kansas instead of staying in colorful Oz. “This is because you have no brains,” she says. “There’s no place like home.”

In the musical and movie, it’s strongly indicated that Dorothy was stuck unconscious by the tornado and has simply dreamt her adventures. But in the book, Dorothy comes running up to the farm, and Aunt Em says, “Where in the world have you come from?” Dorothy replies, “From the Land of Oz. … I’m so glad to be at home again!” And that’s it–THE END. Nothing is said about the tornado or the fact that Dorothy used their house as an airplane to go on vacation but didn’t bother to bring it back.

So that’s CoCo’s Cliff Notes for The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. But before closing, since I’m so fascinated by the symbology of this story, here a few final things that stood out to me in the book that didn’t stand out to me in the musical or movie:

1. On going into the forest

Joseph Campbell says, “You enter the forest at the darkest point, where there is no path. Where there is a way or path, it is someone else’s path; you are not on your own path. If you follow someone else’s way, you are not going to realize your potential.” So I think it’s appropriate that there’s NO ROAD to The Wicked Witch of the West. Like Campbell says of all true heroes, Dorothy and her friends must blaze their own trail.

Symbolically speaking, the forest Dorothy and her friends enter en route to The Wicked Witch represents Dorothy’s unconscious, and The Wicked Witch represents her shadow. (It’s all the same.) The Guardian of the Gates of The Emerald City is the one who says there is NO ROAD to The Wicked Witch and explains WHY this is the case–because “no one ever wishes to go that way.” Exactly, no one WANTS to face their shadow. Why would they? It’s dark, dangerous, and scary as hell. But it is–ultimately–the way home. As the saying goes, “The only way out–is in.”

Along the same lines, Caroline Myss says, “Always go with the choice that scares you the most–because that’s the one that’s going to require the most from you.”

2. On recognizing your own power

When The Wicked Witch enslaves Dorothy, she KNOWS that Dorothy could use her silver slippers to escape if she only knew what to do with them. But she explains, “I can still make her my slave, for she does not know how to use her power.” I think this is a gorgeous lesson, the perfect reminder that we are all more capable than we recognize; it’s just a matter of learning how to rise above rather than be intimated by that which at first blush seems scary. Jesus obviously knew how to do this–he slept through a storm, walked on water, and danced on his way to the cross. The reason they called him Master? Because it’s not easy.

But it is possible.

3. On being wonderful

When Glinda is preparing to send The Scarecrow back to rule The Emerald City, she says it’s because “it would be a shame to deprive the people of so wonderful a ruler,” and The Scarecrow says, “Am I really wonderful?

Glinda’s reply?

“You are unusual.”

Oh the shade! (Shade is when you insult someone discreetly, Mom.)

But seriously. Perhaps these two things–being wonderful and being unusual–go hand in hand. I don’t know–we so often want to be like everyone else. But the truth is, we are ALL unusual. For all our similarities, there will never be another YOU or another ME–ever, ever, ever. So why not own and celebrate our differences? Don’t they make us wonderful?

Don’t they make us FULL of wonder?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love stands at the front door and says, “You don’t have to change a thing about yourself to come inside.”

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On Melting Witches (Blog #544)

Tonight I finally finished cleaning the house that belongs to my friends who recently moved. It’s been a process, and I didn’t tackle the master bedroom until tonight because we needed to get new carpet installed first, which happened last week. Anyway, this afternoon I filled a bucket with soap and water in the kitchen and hauled it upstairs into the bedroom. Then, like I did in the rest of the house a couple weeks ago, I scrubbed every wall from top to bottom, then wiped down the baseboards. It was a slow process.

Inch by inch.

This evening I took a break for dinner, then returned to my friends’ former bedroom to vacuum the new carpet, since the installation process left the place looking like what might happen if a litter of puppies were let loose in a store full of teddy bears. And whereas I began with the main vacuum attachment–the one with the motorized brush the “sweeps” everything up into the machine, the rotary motion of the brush just whacked all the little carpet pieces from one spot on the floor to another. Well, there’s more than one way to skin a cat, so I used another attachment, one without a motor. However, since this attachment was the size of a pocket harmonica, it didn’t make for quick work. You should have seen me down on my knees pushing and pulling this thing back and forth across five hundred square feet of carpet.

Inch by inch.

Caroline Myss says that when you’re working on becoming conscious, you’ll inevitably create situations in your life in which you’re forced to face your fears, situations that will allow you to bring your shadow into the light. For example, in The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy is unable to speak up to Miss Gulch when the old hag takes away her everything, her dog Toto. (Toto means “everything” in Latin.) So before she can get back home (to her authentic, empowered self), Dorothy has to face Miss Gulch in the form of the Wicked Witch of the West. When she does, she soaks the witch with water, and the witch melts away. At this point, Dorothy has the witch’s broom. That is to say, her conscious self now has the power that previously belonged to her unconscious fear.

This tale has been on my mind today because I recently turned down a job offer, a dance thing. And whereas I’m absolutely certain that I made the right decision, it was a difficult decision to make because it brought up all my fears about scarcity and lack. Like, What if other opportunities don’t come along? And what if I disappoint someone?

Scarcity, lack, and what my therapist calls “fear of the response”–these are my big witches.

Joseph Campbell says that when you’re on YOUR path and not someone else’s, you don’t have to worry about facing your witches (he calls them dragons) because you’ll have help along the way. His term for this help is magical aid. Dorothy has Glinda the Good Witch, Cinderella has her fairy godmother, Luke Skywalker has Yoda, and Frodo has Gandalf. Personally, I have my therapist, who’s reminded me on a number of occasions that you can NEVER go wrong when you trust yourself (as in, this isn’t right for me right now) or act from an attitude of abundance instead of lack (as in, there will be other opportunities).

There’s a verse in the Bible that says, “No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of heaven.” I often say that I don’t suggest the path of personal and spiritual growth to others. My point is–this path, though rewarding, is not fun, since once you give the light of your consciousness permission to go roaming about in the dark of your internal basement, it will end up cleaning your entire house inch by inch. In other words, it will affect every part of your life–every relationship, every dynamic, every personal viewpoint.

Toto.

Melting witches is messy business.

This internal cleaning and process of transformation feels like being slung about by a tornado and NOT like skipping down the Yellow Brick Road. You will WANT to look back and you will WANT to quit, since it is in no way whatsoever enjoyable to have all your witches and dragons trotted out before you so that you can stare them down and become empowered. Granted, the results are lovely, but the process itself is terrifying. Often, there’s (figurative) bloodshed involved. (My recent situation worked out well, but in facing other fears and confronting other issues, I’ve lost friendships.) Simply put, melting witches is messy business. I don’t recommend it.

That is, of course, unless you want to get back home.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It's never a small thing to open your home or heart to another person.

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Learning to Navigate (Blog #400)

Today I don’t feel a hundred percent. You know those days when you think, I should have stayed in bed. I can’t say exactly what’s wrong. I feel anxious, off. I had it in my head that I was going to do two things–two whole things–I didn’t want to do today. First, I was going to call the insurance company of the guy who hit me. I hate adult things like this. Second, I was going to choreograph a dance for a group of teenagers who are taking a lesson tomorrow. I hate choreographing. And not that I hate teenagers, but they’re usually awkward and I’m usually awkward, so when we get together it’s just–well–usually awkward.

However, despite my feelings of impending doom, I called the insurance company earlier today. Just get it over with, I thought, get it the fuck over with. So I did. Before breakfast even. I left a voicemail. Like an adult who’s not afraid of his own shadow or making a damn phone call. As it turns out, sometimes I can pretend. Then after breakfast I actually sat down–well, stood up–to choreograph that dance for the awkward teenagers. Just get it over with, I thought, get it the fuck over with. But I couldn’t because APPARENTLY I threw away the slip of paper with the name of the song on it that the awkward teenagers want to dance to. Something about Cinderella, I remembered. So I started looking online.

Do you know how many freaking Cinderella songs there are!?

And not one of them rang a bell.

Well shit, I thought. Immediately I started shallow breathing and breaking out in a heavy sweat, as if the wheels were coming off. It’s okay, Marcus, I tried to tell myself. But lately it’s felt like so many things are going “wrong,” that my baseline of pressure is so high, that any little thing can send me right over the edge. A small dip in energy, another bill in the mail–any sort of disappointment–and there I go, tumbling down.

You’d better drop it like a hot potato.

Last week after writing about improv comedy, it occurred to me that my “life strategy” of getting butthurt when things don’t go my way would never work on the stage. There you might have it in your mind that a scene is going to go one way, like that you’re going to be an elephant. But if the other guy on stage opens his mouth first and refers to you as his pet monkey, well, you’d better start waving your arms over your head or pretending to eat a banana. Because in that moment it doesn’t matter what you’d intended, that elephant plan is over, and you’d better drop it like a hot potato, mister, if you don’t want to be left behind.

Changing directions at a moment’s notice is really easy to do on statge. But I’m finding it harder to do in real life. Today when I couldn’t find that song I was looking for, I just kept looking, sometimes blankly staring at the screen in astonishment. I can’t believe this is my fricking life, I thought. Eventually, I snapped myself out of it and thought, I’ll do something else. So I decided to clean out my voicemails. Y’all, as much as I bitch about the importance of good customer service, I’m terrible at calling people back. (I’m working on it.) Today I called one girl back who left me a message two weeks ago wanting dance lessons for her wedding, and when we spoke, she said, “Oh–the wedding’s tomorrow.”

Well, shit.

Now I’m trying not to self-flagellate, beat myself up for not calling her back sooner or not remembering the name of that song. I keep telling myself, You’ve had a lot going on, Marcus. It’s not like your life has been a cake walk lately (God knows). I really am doing the best I can to not hang on to my elephants, those things in the past that are over, those ideas about how life should have been or how I should have acted. Because–shit–they weigh a lot, and I’m reminding myself that when you’re in a storm you’ve got to throw everything overboard that weighs you down. That’s the only way you and your ship can survive, by getting light and dealing with what’s happening now–not what you wanted to happen now.

As the ocean of life changes, we must too.

So that’s why I’m currently writing. This blog is number #400 (in a row!), and despite my plan that I was going to choreograph AND THEN write, that’s not what’s happening. Rather, I’m writing, and then “we’ll see.” Looking back over the last 400 days, I’m reminded that I’ve made it through rough ones before, days when nothing went my way or at least not as planned. If I’m being completely honest, which is the point here, no day ever goes completely as I plan it. That’s simply not how sailing works. No, the ocean of life is unpredictable, and as it changes, we must to. One day the wind will fill our sails and carry us along, another it will nearly turn us over. So we buckle down our hatches and adjust course when necessary. From one day to the next, we somehow learn to navigate.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You absolutely have to be vulnerable and state what you want.

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Just the Way You Are (Blog #216)

It’s 3:08 in the morning. Where did the day go? More importantly, where is tonight’s blog going? I honestly have no idea. This is only a slight problem, of course, since I’m the one writing it. I spent most the day burning fat. Keep your seats–I didn’t run a marathon or anything–I just started eating better. That’s right, today was day one of what will hopefully be a four-week dietary reset involving no bread, no refined sugar, no alcohol, no happiness. So far it’s going pretty well, except for the fact that I’m hungry, cranky, and have a headache. (I guess that’s the no happiness part.) Regarding the headache, I wish my parents didn’t keep the Ibuprofen bottle right next to the stool-softener bottle.

They look VERY similar.

I don’t want to speak too soon, but I’ve actually felt better today. I’ve had more energy–at least putting my jeans on didn’t wear me out–so I’m taking that as a good sign. Still, I’ve told myself I’m going to take it easy for the rest of the week, so I spent the day lying on the futon, working my way through a book about the mythological figure Lilith, the first wife of Adam. Yes, you read that right–Eve was God’s second choice. Apparently, Lilith was a feminist from the start, and when Adam said he wanted to be “on top,” Lilith said SHE wanted to be on top. Well, as my dad would say, this went over like a fart in church, and there was a fight. In the end, Lilith spent the rest of her days destroying creation and devouring newborn children, and Adam settled down with the more agreeable, albeit hungry for apples, Eve.

Obviously, nobody’s perfect.

As I understand it, a lot of religions and mythologies have a goddess like Lilith. The book mentioned the Babylonian Ishtar, and I’m familiar with the Hindu Kali. Whatever the case, these ladies are almost always temptresses and destroyers. I guess they could be compared to Cinderella’s step-mother or Snow White’s Evil Queen, and they are usually juxtaposed to benevolent female characters such as Mother Mary or Cindy’s fairy godmother. We like to make these sorts “all bad,” of course, but it seems as if life itself is a constant interplay of forces that destroy and create, destroy and create. Where would one be without the other?

This evening I went to the grocery store with a list for my parents and a list for me. Since my list was for my diet, I don’t mind saying that their list was infinitely more appealing. I mean, it had french fries on it; mine had chicken and lemons. Y’all, going to the grocery store when you’re on a diet really is discouraging. EVERYTHING has corn syrup in it. There are literally like five healthy foods in the entire world, and only two of them taste good. I realize I’m not starting this transformational journey with the best attitude, but I’m assuming that will improve once my body adjusts to the shock of pancake withdrawal. Plus, it doesn’t help that my checkout girl looked at my selection of vegetables and said, “We never eat those at my house–it’s all Twinkies and potato chips.”

I mean, she didn’t have to brag.

Tonight I video chatted with my friend Matt. He ate Taco Bell while we talked, so that was only a little difficult to watch. I told Matt that whenever I start a diet, I immediately start thinking of everything else I need to start, like walking in the afternoons, doing yoga at night, and wearing my retainer when I go to bed. (Look, Ma, I’m self-improving in my sleep!) Even when I haven’t felt well, there’s part of me that wants to push-push-push for perfection. It’s exhausting. But Matt said, “Aren’t you perfect just the way you are?”

Well there’s a novel idea.

Here’s a picture I snapped while talking to Matt. We were talking about dance, and he was using the fan to ask me a question about his “partner.” If I’d been thinking, I would have said, “Tell her to chill out.'”

A couple years ago I’d stopped smoking cigarettes but picked them back up again. Prone to beat myself up about such things, I brought the topic up in therapy, and my therapist said, “You’re just upset because you expect things to always be the same. Just give it some time–it will change–and then it will probably change again.” I’ve been thinking and blogging about this a lot lately, the idea that everything comes and goes. So much of me wants to get my life and body a certain way and have them stay that way, but that’s not how things works. You get sick for a while, then you get better. You eat right, then you don’t, and then you do again. This, I’m learning, is normal and how life works. Habits are constantly created and destroyed, nobody is on top all the time, and aren’t you perfect just the way you are?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A friend’s laughter takes us backward and carries us forward simultaneously.

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Turning Lead into Gold (Blog #157)

Currently I’m a solid two hours into my self-imposed “No Facebook Mondays” boundary. Part of me thinks it’s no big deal and is actually excited for the break. Like, my thumb wasn’t made for that much scrolling anyway. Another part of me is shaking and on edge, like whenever I quit cigarettes. I keep picking up my phone out of habit then immediately putting it back down out of sheer willpower. Find something else to do, Marcus. Okay, two hours and ten minutes. To remove temptation, I just closed out the Facebook tab on my browser. Now it’s just me and my feelings. Shit. This could be a long day.

This afternoon I completed my first online yoga session with Codyapp. I cussed a lot, but it felt great. The guy said it can take six months to two years to reshape your fascia, and I kind of hate that taking care of yourself is such a long-term commitment. Still, one day is one day, and a start is a start.

I’m proud to say that in the last twenty-four hours I’ve watched half of season three of Grace and Frankie, which stars Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin, Martin Sheen, and Sam Waterston. If you don’t know, it’s about two women (a yuppie and a hippy) who become close friends after their husbands divorce them in order to marry each other. In season three, the women start their own business, selling vibrators to aging ladies. I don’t know what it is about hearing Jane Fonda say, “Fuck me in the eye,” or Lily Tomlin say, “Christ on a cupcake,” but I laughed out loud all day today. I don’t remember the last time that happened. It’s been almost better than therapy.

Almost.

This evening I went for a walk and continued to listen to a series of lectures on archetypes by Caroline Myss. The theory is that everyone has twelve primary archetypes or energetic patterns of behavior. Four of those twelve are common to all of us (The Child, The Victim, The Prostitute, and The Saboteur), and eight are unique to you or me. Whenever you meet someone and immediately classify them as a diva, a bully, a shaman, an angel, or a martyr, you’re talking about one of their archetypes. Anyway, tonight Caroline discussed the storyteller archetype, which I believe is one of my eight. Of course, we all tell stories, but for some of us everything is a story. Even when somebody cheats on us or we gain three pounds, we think, I can blog about this later.

Two things mentioned about the storyteller archetype stood out to me. First, every archetype has a light side and a shadow side. As an example, Cinderella’s fairy godmother is the light side of the mother archetype, and her evil step-mother is the shadow. Anyway, Caroline says the shadow side of the storyteller is the liar, or, in more mild cases, the exaggerator. Of course, I’ve had my own moments outside the light, but my mind immediately went to a couple people I know who seem to lie about anything. Like, they lie when the truth would serve them better, and I guess until tonight I never really understood it. Oh, that’s it, I thought, they’re just misusing their god-given talents (powers).

The other thing that stood out to me was the idea that whenever we’re in a difficult situation, even if we can’t change it, we can tell ourselves a different story about it. We can say, “Once upon a time, there was a prince who returned to his parents’ kingdom to rest and find his way again. Each night he’d write a letter to himself that he’d post for all to see. This was his way of healing and growing strong as he awaited his next adventure.”

Or something like that.

Caroline says this is actually healthy. We’re all going to tell ourselves a story about our circumstances anyway, and something akin to a fairy tale is much more beneficial than, “This sucks, God hates me, and no one will ever love my sagging breasts.” In medieval, alchemical terms, taking a negative situation and finding the good in it is compared to turning lead into gold. One obvious benefit to doing this is that we’re happier, since we’re not, say, still bitter about something that happened twenty days or twenty years ago. But Caroline says turning the lead in our lives into gold–or not–can actually affect how our physical bodies heal. In short, the idea is that mental and emotional lead (resentments, grudges, worries) keep us out of the present moment, which is where the spirit resides and the physical body best functions.

After my walk I did an exercise in my creativity workbook where I had to list ways in which I nourish myself. Y’all, it was difficult. My mind immediately went to the books I read and even the yoga class I started today, but–and I’m about to get real honest here–those things always have a twinge of “should” about them. Although I do enjoy them, they’re largely motivated by the thought, I need to do this so my life and body will be better. (I hate it when I realize I’m being rough on myself.) So I took a few deep breaths and decided to take a hot bath. I put on some music, lit a candle. Afterwards I did some exercises for my neck and listened to “Let It Be” by The Beatles on repeat.

Now I’m thinking that I can be gentler with myself, give myself the mental room I need to grow. I can tell myself a different story. I’ve been saying that I have to read, have to heal. But I love reading, learning, and yoga. So I’m actually doing these things because I want to and because I care for myself. Not only is that a different, kinder story, it’s the truth. And I can look at No Facebook Mondays as some sort of prison, or I can see it as a freedom, more time to watch shows that make me laugh or–even better–spend time with friends I love–in person. Once again I’m finding it’s not what’s “out there” that matters, but rather what’s “in here.” In here is where you tell yourself the story about what’s out there. In here is where you turn lead into gold.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Every stress and trauma in your life is written somewhere in your body.

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Why I’m Like a Fairy Tale Princess (Blog #102)

In any swing dancing aerial, there’s something called a prep. It usually has a particular timing, but basically amounts to jumping–something that sounds simple enough, but you’d be surprised how often people fuck it up. The reason for this–and I’m just as guilty as the next person–is that it’s easy to get so focused on the main event–the backflip, the jump over someone’s head–that you don’t take time to properly prep or prepare.

This theory works with even a simple jump, one you might try in your living room. If you stand with your legs straight and only focus on the jump itself, you won’t go far. But if you bend your knees AND THEN jump, you’ll go higher. The key is the prep–you have to go down before you can go up. (I’ve been thinking about this idea for several hours now and just realized how filthy it sounds.)

As I’ve continued to read The Uses of Enchantment by Bruno Bettleheim, I’ve concluded that most fairy tales are either about puberty, sex, or wanting at least one of your parents to die. Start reading them to your kids today! This afternoon I learned that Sleeping Beauty is largely about menstruation, referred to as “a curse” in the beginning of the story and represented by the letting of blood when the main character “pricks” her finger on a spinning wheel. (The story also refers to sex in general, which can initially involve bleeding and–obviously–pricks.) The lesson is that often there is a period (no pun intended) of rest or waiting before the curse is lifted, before a girl becomes a woman and is ready for sex, marriage, or children and all their benefits.

Isn’t that fascinating? This is the stuff Disney doesn’t tell you.

When I read that interpretation today, I could really identify with Sleeping Beauty and had a big AHA moment. Not that I’m a young girl who’s just gotten her period, but I do think I’m going through a phase in my life that involves rest (usually until three in the afternoon). What I mean by that is that on the surface (and in my bank account), there’s not a lot going on. Some weeks I don’t technically “work” at all. Rather, I spend most my time reading, writing, and hanging out with friends. Recently my friend Marla told me she thought I was in school–learning about writing, practicing every day, getting ready for whatever’s next–which I think is just another way of expressing the same idea about resting. It may not look like there’s a lot going on, but there actually is.

I also learned today that Cinderella is mostly about sibling rivalry. (No big shock there.) But–don’t worry–like a good number of fairy tales, it’s also about Oedipal complexes, the desire to do away with one parent in order to gain the love and affection of the other. In one version of the tale, Cinderella actually chops off the head of her first step-mother (with the lid of a trunk!), who’s then replaced by a second.

But the thing I found most interesting about Cinderella is that originally her name wasn’t associated with cinders but with ashes, which more easily calls to mind images of the phoenix, the legendary bird who periodically dies by fire only to be reborn out of the heap. (Jesus, of course, pulled a similar trick when he descended into hell for three days before ascending into heaven.) And whereas Cinderella finally ended up with that fine specimen of a prince, she first had to be down in the ashes, wearing filthy rags that would make any gay man want to run to her side and say, “Oh honey, this will never do.”

Notice, of course, that it was a fairy who eventually came to her rescue.

Before today, I never thought that Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, and Jesus had much in common. But in every story, there’s a time of rest before they rise. To the casual observer, others are being exalted–succeeding–while the hero sleeps, cleans the fireplace in an ugly dress, or even dies. But after a time of inactivity, there’s always a happily ever after. Of course, that’s the part I want in my own life, and sometimes it’s easy to get so focused on the main event that I forget how important it is to prepare for it first. I have to remind myself that–just like any good fairy tale princess or swing dancing aerial–you have to go down before you can go up.

Once again, that sounded much dirtier than I intended. However, I’m okay with that.

[Thanks to Walt Warner for the first photo and someone I don’t remember for the second.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Solid help and solid hope are quite the same thing.

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