He runs on his tip-toes down the driveway scattered in burnt gold leaves.
“Superman!” I call to my eight-year-old neighbor. He’s a soccer player who dressed up as a SWAT team member for Halloween. He typically breaks out into spontaneous dance moves during our side-yard conversations, and told me recently he doesn’t envision me as someone who enjoys cooking.
Insightful, indeed.
“No, I’m not Superman!” he corrects, pushing blonde bangs away from his bright blue eyes, and grinning. His younger brother is Superman, he informs me; he’s another superhero. He says a name, and I don’t hear it, it’s lost to the rustling chorus of leaves. But I nod, anyway. Whatever superhero he chooses to be, he’s got my full support.
He beams, and then with that avenger-worthy strength, takes a firm grip on an empty trash bin that towers over him and pulls it back to its rightful spot besides his family’s home. And then he’s off – darting to the backyard to jump into a castle pile of leaves with his sister.
My neighbor super-heroes/kids save me. They ground me. They wave away those busy, distracting and oh-so-very-important thoughts and return me to the vivid aliveness that is life.
I could have stayed distracted while pushing back the trash barrel. I could have stayed in the confines of my inner dialogue about voting, the state of this and that, my annoyances, my fears, my to-do list. I could continue to chew on my grievances and my righteous convictions.
But instead, in a moment of grace, a superhero arrives. He’s an eight-year-old boy running carefree down the driveway to help his grandmother take care of the yard. He’s life in motion, calling me to return home to this heart-beat of a moment.
Perhaps I meant what I said … that his fast-style of running reminded me of Superman but it was more that in that moment, he threw me a rescue rope from the real danger of losing myself to all-consuming thoughts.
And I caught it, because for the past few weeks, maybe for the past few years, maybe for the past few lifetimes, I have missed, and catching the rope-line to a presence-lived life takes discipline, will, practice. Choosing presence is to follow the light, to live in the light of consciousness, to stay with life as it is (not what we think it is!) in the moment, without shrinking, over-powering, or numbing out.
And it’s my breath-to-breath practice because, to quote Finrod, the wise and brave Elf from J.R.R. Tolkien’s inspired series, The Rings of Power, who answers his younger sister’s question, “How do I know which lights to follow?”
“Sometimes we cannot know until we have touched the darkness.”
This truth-revealing season of Scorpio has showed me … that I have indeed touched the darkness, been swimming in it! Been immersed in The Cause to the degree that I have become The Cause, and in identifying with The Cause, I momentarily lost my peace, my joy, my hope and my faith. I fell into the dark dungeon of dualistic thinking, the caged trap of polarity (me against them thinking), raged against The Other Side and that resistance filtered my perception, deceiving me, and erasing the humanity from those who have chosen differently than me.
I was dizzy in despair. A fury fried my nervous system. Frankly, I was emotionally howling, and plummeting into heart-break. Even though I studied human rights in college, worked in advocacy, and have stood by causes throughout my teen and young adult life … nothing has hit me like this one Cause, because this involves children and the wellbeing of children, and nothing guts me like protecting and ensuring the thriving wellbeing for our children.
And here, in those dark waters, a rescue rope was thrown … by the Elves of Middle-earth.
I’m still replaying that enlightening lesson from Amazon prime’s series, “The Rings of Power.”
Spoiler alert: I’m sharing a pivotal plot-twist, and one that is providing guidance on how to swim toward the light.
Galadriel, an Elf Warrioress, has dedicated her centuries-long life to finding and killing Sauron, a dark lord who murdered her beloved brother, Finrod. This commitment to finding him and eradicating his evil becomes an obsession, and one that hardens her heart. The Elven leaders offer her the reward of going back to the Elf World, back to Grey Havens, but ultimately, she jumps ship and chooses to go back to Middle-Earth and to follow an instinct that Sauron is still around and returning to power.
But here’s the deal …
In her choice and journey back to Middle-earth, she meets a down-on-his-luck (to put that mildly) man who is without home, without loved ones, without clear purpose. She befriends him. And despite this low-man’s protests, she rallies for him to rise into what she believes is his rightful claim to a kingdom’s throne. She sincerely counsels him to forgive himself for past wrongs (even after hearing his confession that he has committed evil), goes on to provides him resources, and even saves his life.
And in the last fifteen minutes of the show, we discover this low-man is Sauron, the very dark lord who murdered her brother, the dark lord who would have probably faded into oblivion if not her for interference. A restored dark lord, now ready, thanks to her encouragement, to reclaim his power.
She created the very evil she was set out against.
Stunned, I sat and watched the credits role. Shivers ran up my spine.
One of the Elven leaders noted that if Galadriel was to stay in Middle-Earth, she would ultimately amplify the evil she sought to destroy.
So, yes, she was right in sensing the evil was present in Middle-Earth, and also, that her fight against this evil gives it the flames it needs to rise.
I take this as a warning sign, and a warning sign issued by J.R.R. Tolkien himself. He lived through two nightmarish world wars. He witnessed dictatorships, the silencing and suppression of human rights, the cruelty and bloodshed of war. When asked if he modeled his fictional books after these wars and political elements of his time, he replied with a strong NO.
No. He was sensitive to agendas, enough so that he didn’t want to tell his readers what to think, what to believe. If his readers saw parallels between his Middle-Earth and history, then that was their interpretation. Let them choose how they discern and relate to his writing, and this helped him to write freely, to write what he felt inspired to write. No agenda.
Divine neutrality is a concept I’ve been practicing on embodying. This is presence. This is consciousness embodied.
Yes, I can have my clear convictions, I can channel my passion into purposeful action, into creative expression, and yet, I can maintain my peace, I can maintain a nervous system that is calm and therefore, can respond and be effective. I maintain my peace and I do fall into misidentifying WHO I AM with the Cause. I am not the cause. I am because I am.
I can write like Tolkien – without agenda. Take what you take. Release the rest.
I can catch the warning. To be careful of where I place my energy, because I don’t want to spend my life-force amplifying the Dark Lord.
I’ve touched the darkness.
Many of us probably have … especially these past few years. We don’t deny these shadows. We hold them to the light of our hearts so we can receive the wisdom, elven-like wisdom.
And I catch this elven-like wisdom embodied and exuded in my eight-year-old neighbor. Alive and immersed in life. I see him tip-toe racing around before I get into my car to go vote. Yes, I have my convictions and also, yes, I have the open-heart to see and cheer on my little superhero of a neighbor.