One of my favorite books is the Mayan Tale The Disobedience of the Daughter of the Sun written by Martin Prechtel.
It’s a beautiful story that depicts a young woman coveted by all of those that love her; mother and father, the extended family and even the community at large. Their need for her to remain the unique giving source that they rely upon eventually breaks the girl into a million pieces. Her lover, a calm shaman in the form of a hummingbird, gathers together every last one of the pieces and places them in an earthen pot to simmer back together. Her mother, of course, is too impatient to wait and is a source of great exasperation for the lover, who knows that the daughter will not be what the Mother desires if the pot is open too soon.
As I think about the simmering together of this girl with relationship to all of us who have change pushing us into our true form, I have to wonder what was happening to the girl as she was in the pot, if she could hear the cries of her Mother, feel the frustration of her lover and recognize her Father, the Sun, walking by the pot with such a heavy heart while so much hurt and hope weighed on his worn out self, missing his daughter dearly and regretting his part in her demise, yet still, day after day, carrying the burden of so many as all good fathers seem to do.
In the end, of course, the Mother opens the pot too early and the girl emerges very different than the memory the Mother desired. We think, “why couldn’t you wait, lady”! Somehow it’s the collective’s gut reaction to want beauty to remain the same. But nothing ever can or will. That is the beauty of being human. Had the mother waited, could a girl that broken ever emerge the same again? And should she? Shouldn’t she have the right to be more complete?
At my studio, I meet so many people who are going through life changes. I love them dearly as they explore the expressive side of their heart and mind to try to find answers that will bring them closer to their true self. I learn from them and allow their wisdom and experiences to feed me along my personal journey. I try to offer what I have in return. It appears eventually we all have to come to an understanding that we must allow for space. Not a removal of the mother and lover, the community, the father, but a belief that a gesture of openness can be enough. Knowing enough to crack open a door while you do what you need to in the other room and having the faith that at some point a face will appear peeping out at you, attracted to the loving, honest space you’ve created. This will be enough. And when that happens, the face should never look the same as you remember. My guess is that if you have developed this relationship with the idea of space, it will look even better.