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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Whereas I've always pictured patience as a sweet, smiling, long-haired lady in a white dress, I'm coming to see her as a frumpy, worn-out old broad with three chins. You know--sturdy--someone who's been through the ringer and lived to tell about it.

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Marcus and the Beanstalk (Blog #97)

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This evening I learned that the story of Jack and the Beanstalk is basically about sex. (As Joey on Blossom used to say, “Whoa!”) Remember how Jack gets sent to the market to sell their cow, Milky White, and he trades it for magic beans instead? Well, apparently Milky White represents the mother’s milk, the dependency of the child on his parents. The beans represent Jack’s personal seed, his puberty, his coming of sexual age. And the beanstalk? Well, that’s Jack’s penis. Oh my, look how it grows!

Take all the time you need to process this information.

This afternoon I was on the phone four different times regarding the car accident I was in last week. The first phone call was minutes after I woke up, and I don’t mind saying the lady at Allstate was a bitch. Uh, ma’am, I don’t feel as if I’m in good hands right now. Maybe she was doing her job, but she was rude. I realize a lot of people take advantage of the system, but it sucks to have the shit knocked out of you first by a car, and then by an insurance agent.

The good news is that after the company made an offer for my totaled car, I countered, and today we compromised at seventy percent of the difference in my favor. So I’m getting ninety-four percent of what I asked for. Or, as the rude lady on the phone said, “You will IF we accept liability.”

“Oh,” I said. “Is that still a question?”

The next lady I talked to was my specific case manager, and she was delightful–also doing her job, but delightful. She explained that liability had not been accepted only because they hadn’t spoken to their client yet, the gentleman who hit me. So that’s just standard. She also said that they gave me a rental car prematurely, but not to worry about it. But then she called back and said, “You might want to worry about it–take it back until we’ve decided for sure that we’re liable. Otherwise you might have to pay for it yourself.”

“Well shit.”

So I put on my shoes and was about to walk out the door, but then she called back–like–it’s me again, Margaret. “Okay, don’t worry! I spoke with our client. You don’t have to take the car back. You’re good to go.” I said, “Thank you!” and thought, If we talk one more time today, I’m going to feel obligated to invite you to my wedding.

Amongst everything else, the lady and I talked about how reimbursement for the car would work, how medical coverage and payment would work, and how she’ll be calling every seven to ten days to check up on my progress. Meet my new best friend, the insurance agent. The next time she calls I’m going to ask who her celebrity crush is. Just based on her phone personality, I’m going to guess she’d say Taye Diggs, and I could definitely support that. Me too, girl. Me too.

Despite the fact that things are going as well as possible, I’m really anxious to have it all settled, get the reimbursement check, and purchase a new car. (I picked one out yesterday, and it’s being held. Details will be forthcoming. Now you can be anxious with me.) Additionally, spending all that time on the phone today–being a damn adult–wore me out. I always feel like I’m on the defensive in these situations, watching out for every dollar. (It’s not like I have a goose that lays golden eggs over here!) And I hate that. I’d much rather assume the best of people and trust everyone. I’d also much rather have a goose that lays golden eggs.

This evening I felt like I needed to do something for me. So for the first time in over six months, I drove my antique car, a 1977 Mercury Comet. It’s name is Garfield (because it’s orange, duh). Y’all, I’m not a car person, but I’m a THAT CAR person. I LOVE Garfield. I got him in 2005, the same year I opened my dance studio, and he’s perfect for spring, summer, and fall evenings, since he doesn’t have working air conditioning. But he’s super handsome, has a V8 engine, and gets lots of compliments from old guys at gas stations. (Ooh-la-la.) Honestly, he’s one of my favorite possessions–ever.

Last year when I had my estate sale, I decided it was time to say goodbye to Garfield. It took a while, but I made peace with the idea, especially since I thought the extra money would help get me to Austin. Well, the sale came and went, but no one made an offer on Garfield. So for the last several months, he’s sat in my parents driveway collecting dust and working on a nice case of tire-rot. Every time I see him, I think I need to spruce him up, put him on Craigslist. But I’m always afraid he won’t sell or won’t sell for “enough,” and that makes me afraid that I’ll never get to Austin. Basically it’s been easier to pretend he’s not there.

But because I’m always happy when I’m driving him, I got him out tonight–checked his fluids, aired up his tires. I said I was going on an errand, but because I drove the back roads, it took an hour and a half to buy two bags of coffee. The wind in my hair, the roar of the engine, the weight of the all-metal car barreling down the road–I loved every minute of it. However, there was a faint feeling of sadness, like you might get if you were having lunch with your best friend and you knew it was one of the last times. Maybe one of you is moving and can’t take the other. You both know it’s best, you know you can’t stay together forever, but you don’t really want to say goodbye either.

Eventually you have to grow up and face your giants.

When Jack climbs the beanstalk, he’s confronted by the representation of his parents, the giant and his wife. This imagery represents Jack growing up, becoming an adult. Once or twice the giant’s wife protects Jack, hides him in an oven or whatever. Here the oven represents one’s desire to not grow up, but rather return to the womb.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, how nice it would be to be a child again, to be protected, to be taken care of. Isn’t that part of the reason we love fairy tales? Doesn’t everyone want someone to sweep them off their feet, some charming partner with whom to live happily ever after in a world without car wrecks and bitchy insurance agents? But obviously, that’s not the way it works, and some days being an adult is almost more than you can handle. (I don’t recommend being one if you can help it.) Of course, you can’t go back and be a kid again, at least not permanently. Maybe you get a few moments here and there, an hour free of responsibility, your foot on the gas of an antique car. But eventually you have to grow up and face your giants. Sooner or later, we all say goodbye.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life proceeds at its own pace.

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An Enchanted Slumber (Blog #67)

This morning I woke up in Nashville, but now I’m back in Van Buren. Whenever I return from an out-of-state trip, I always feel a bit unsettled. I know the technology to travel long distances in short amounts of time has been around since before I was born, but I still feel odd whenever it happens to me. Maybe it’s not traveling the physical distance that bothers me, but traveling the emotional distance.

Last night before I blogged, Bonnie and I sat in the kitchen and ate cold pizza and did shots of whiskey. At least I think it was whiskey. It could have been rum. I’m not an expert. Anyway, somehow we got on the topic of fairy tales, which fascinate me. As the conversation went on, I brought up Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz and talked about the fact that she goes on this amazing journey, but when she gets back, her family thinks it was a dream. Like everyone I’ve ever dated, they don’t get it. (In their defense, of course they don’t get it–they didn’t go on the journey and they weren’t the ones transformed by it.)

So that’s what I mean by the emotional distance, the transformation. I think any journey, even a week in Nashville, can change a person. Personally I had a week that was full of excitement, inspiration, and contemplation. That’s a lot to digest, and it’s hard to bring it all back to the place you came from, since it often feels like the people there don’t get it either. But again, why should they? They’ve been living their own lives, their own adventures.

I guess it just takes time to adjust after a big trip. On the drive back today, Todd and Bonnie and I didn’t talk much. I think all of us were tired, each looking back and looking forward, trying to figure out where to put the last eight days, maybe disappointed there weren’t more of them.

While Todd drove, I sat in the back and read one of the books I bought yesterday, Be Your Own Fairy Tale by Alison Davies. There’s a section in the book about Enchanted Slumber, the type of sleep that came over both Sleeping Beauty and Snow White. (And will come over me as soon as this blog is over.) The author explains that sleep represents not only periods of rest in our lives, but also periods of transformation. In the case of Sleeping Beauty, she fell asleep a girl, but woke up a woman.

For lunch this afternoon I had a burger, fries, and a chocolate shake from Dairy Queen, so this evening I went for an incredibly long walk/jog. (Since I started the hour before midnight, my stupid fitness app split my results into two days, so it looks like I barely met my goal, when the truth is that I FAR exceeded it.) Anyway, God willing and the creek don’t rise, I’m about to enter a period of transformation myself. Exercise is about to become a regular thing around here, and that means no more beer and tacos for a while. (Don’t worry, beer and tacos, I’ll come back for you, I just really need my pants to fit right now.)

Rest gives us time to dream.

As I walked/jogged tonight, I thought a lot about the fairy tale book, about how this time in my life is a lot like an Enchanted Slumber. (Obviously, I sleep past noon. Plus, I’m waiting for Prince Charming.) But really, it’s a big time of rest, a time of waiting, a time of transforming not only my waistline, but almost everything about me. Granted, I’m not exactly sure what things will look when it’s all over, but Sleeping Beauty didn’t either, and it worked out nicely for her.

As the book suggested, looking at things this way is already helping. I know that a lot of times I get frustrated because I’m not over there–now–but thinking of Sleeping Beauty reminds me that rest (and patience) is necessary for all of us. Rest gives us the energy for the adventure to come. What’s more, rest gives us time to dream.

So I’m reminded to give myself time to rest, whether it’s coming off closing a business of eleven years and selling most my possessions, or coming back from a weeklong trip to Nashville. After all, a lot of emotional ground has been covered, and it takes time to assimilate. Of course, when you’re resting, there’s no hurry. (Ask any Sleeping Beauty.) One day, for certain, you’ll wake up. And you’ll be grateful for the time you rested, and you’ll be just as grateful that you’re different, far from the person who fell asleep.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes we move with grace and sometimes we move with struggle. But at some point, standing still is no longer good enough.

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