Follow me on Twitter 
Life’s Journey: we determine the path and embark. We ponder where our path will lead. Who will we meet and Who will we be when we get There (wherever “there” is)? We often think we know where “There” is, but like Petrarch in his Ascent of Mt. Ventoux, in our folly we sometimes imagine that we can ascend a summit unchanged by the journey. Maybe we want to arrive at some faraway peak without the hard work it takes to get there, avoiding the risk of failure and the inevitable bumps we’ll encounter along the way. We might consider the hard work—even relish the heroic thought, but don’t imagine how it might change us, unable to fathom the heights and depths to which our journey will lead. How can we anticipate the valleys and vistas; road blocks and epiphanies; the stretch marks and laugh lines; disillusionment and ridiculousness; disappointment and hilarity; sorrow and delight; spills and upsets; yet also the approval of old women, children’s kisses, dandelions, ice cream, and the ever-changing nighttime sky, imagined up-close while we gaze in wonder at the cosmos. How can we predict our individual experience of life and the part we’ll play? Here’s to the age-old question of being vs. becoming: will it matter more Who we are or What we are? Will we be able to separate the two? I wonder How we’ll name ourselves along the way . . .
Many of these issues come alive in the story of Rumpelstiltskin.* A poor miller presents his daughter to the king, hoping to entice the monarch with an outrageous (and false) claim that his daughter can spin straw into gold. The miller is probably motivated partly by intentions to do his best for his daughter. Should we blame him for her predicament when she’s locked in a cell, crying inconsolably due to her inability to perform? If her father had been a rich man, he could have presented her at court actually wearing all the gold he claimed she could spin. Arrayed in costly attire and jewels, with her makeup perfectly in place and hair just right; would that have been a better representation of who/what she was? Would it have been any different if she were placed in some kind of gilded cage due to her appearance, than the cell of the story? Would her imprisonment have been less intolerable that way?
We are familiar with this teaching tale: to extricate herself from a seemingly impossible dilemma, the miller’s daughter sits crying, when a little gnome-like creature appears. In exchange for her necklace, he spins enormous piles of straw into gold. ** When the king requires further proof, and the maiden returns to the refuge of her tears, the same creature appears. Again, she turns to magic, and pays the little gnome with a ring.
In true epic tradition, gracious princesses give gifts that ennoble heroes–especially rings–but in this tale it is clear that she offers no gift. Her ring is part of an exchange for services rendered. The gnome is not GIVING gold, but manufacturing it, as he spins the straw that saves her life, or at least her reputation. What does this say about the path we take to reach our goal, or rather the actions we take to become who we are going to be when we arrive at the summit of our existence? We might also consider the link between the ability to bestow a gift and the desire for gain. The notion of gift-giving might be an important question, having something to do with both who and what we are. What do we have to offer and then choose to give, and to whom, and what do we accept (or demand) of others?
The tale of Rumpelstiltskin is redolent with magic, and it’s interesting that the maiden doesn’t seem to consider her choices. When she’s asked for payment (by the creature) the third time she’s required to prove her worth to the king, she demands the magic man perform! It never seems to occur to her that she has any part in where she is; it’s as if she imagines she is still the same person she was when the story began. “You MUST help me,” she tells the little gnome. I wonder why she thinks that way? Where did she get this idea of entitlement? Had her value increased in some way that changed who or what she was, necessitating a change in others’ responses to her needs/desires/wants/ requests? Would it be others’ actions that would propel her forward on her Journey, or her own decisions and deeds?
Another thought: In reading this tale, are we getting a sense of the maiden’s feelings, or is this rather, a societal reflection on the inability of women (or certain people) and their relative ability to choose to “be.” 
Tolkein offers a startling perspective on this idea, showing the reader that virtue and strength can come from the most unlikely or unexpected places. Frodo offers a clear example. When placed in a dangerous and life-altering situation through no fault of his own, he reveals who he is through his choices, followed by action. In possession of a ring not meant for him, he actively seeks to right the wrong that has been perpetrated—even to the point of continuing the journey alone if necessary.
In another tale, the Epic of Gilgamesh, we are confronted with a king who is deeply concerned with the legacy of his name. The narrator claims that great buildings and monuments speak to the monarch’s accomplishments. The king’s subjects think that prosperity and peace speak to what their ruler has given them. Thousands of years later, however, we know that the reason we still read about this time and call this king by name has nothing to do with either of these kinglike accomplishments. Yes, Gilgamesh is a GREAT king: he feeds and protects his people, and does it well. That’s not why we know him though. We know him—and want to know him—because he embarked on a quest and lived through real hardship. He suffered, loved, lost, and prevailed. We understand the pain and the sorrow along with the feelings of duty and commitment. We revel in the lesson he learns about friendship and about life. Like Gilgamesh, we rejoice in those glorious and wonderful moments, relishing all that is good and great, unwilling sometimes to accept the other parts. When Siduri says to him, “Gilgamesh, why are you in such a hurry? Don’t you know that man is born to die?” we are like him; we want to rage at the easy acquiescience.
Gilgamesh grieving over the death of Enkidu
When he shouts “Noooo!!!!” his voice reverberates down through the ages, and we raise our fists with him. Life and the living of it can feel cruel in any millennium, or century, or decade. Surely we are not meant to traverse this path alone!?!?
In a different time and in the tale of Rumpelstiltskin, the strange little man asks the maiden what she’ll offer in exchange for spinning a third time, and then makes the inevitable request for her firstborn babe. With no hesitation, she accepts the deal. This is not about relationships or ties that bind. A year later, when she gives birth to a beautiful baby boy, however, her imagined future suddenly becomes all too real. She is faced with a new dilemma. How can she fulfill her NEW role as queen without the the product she is supposed to produce: a son and heir? She reneges on the deal with the gnome-like man, and claims she didn’t know the terms. She didn’t mean it. If she had realized what it meant, she never would have/could have. . . .
How do we anticipate where we’re going to be when we have not yet arrived, especially when we aim to get there instantly, magically, or using the work of others? How do we move forward when decisions keep us mired in the past? What happens when WHO I am is unable to offer the gifts normally associated with WHAT I am? How can I change the parameters and how will I lay claim to the ability to bestow when I’ve concentrated only on gain? So very many layers to work through. . . . whew!!! Can I claim a summit when I cannot tell anyone else how to get there, or if I don’t know the names of all the roads I traversed to reach the top?
So. . . . .now what? 
Having arrived at the top of a summit, the queen finds herself in a brand new dilemma. Reminded of the paths SHE traversed, she cannot reconcile them as paths that led her to this place. This is interesting. Not only will we never learn her name, but we wonder about this time in every new mother’s life when she would normally be thinking about all possible names for her newborn son. Instead, her present and her past have become inextricably intertwined to become one and the same and it appears she has no future, or at least not one that matches what she is as a queen! Obviously, someone will have to pay. What will be the currency of exchange? She wants to re-negotiate, and the gnome says, ok, if you can guess my name, you win: you keep the baby. Can she name him? She has three days. On the first day, she guesses every name ever named in the history of the kingdom– with no luck. On the second day, she guesses every name ever thought or dreamed– with no luck. On the third day, one of her spies reports having found a dancing creaturely-man in the woods, singing out his name: “Rumpelstiltskin”! Just in time she is able to guess her tormentor’s name and wins the bet. In his fury, Rumpelstiltskin stomps a hole in the ground through which he disappears, down into the bowels of the Earth. Has justice been served? Order preserved?
When we think about it further, we wonder about the names. Rumpelstiltskin is the only named individual in the entire story: a story about greed and deception. A story about shortcuts. A story about people in identifiable roles, who do not know WHO they are. Magic is about illusion, and once the glamour is cast aside, nothing remains. Shortcuts ignore the daily exigencies which form the paths of life. The dynamic process that we call LIFE is not dependent of whether we are a miller’s daughter or a queen, a strange little gnome, or a king. We certainly don’t want to end up in some version of a cell, attempting to prove our worth based on what we can do in order to be valued as a person! But do we want to be at a pinnacle ignorant of the path? Do we want to inhabit a role, or be worth remembering for who we are? Does that circle back to the original question of the possible inability to separate the Who and the What?
Perhaps the question is How. How do we venture forth, without being placed in someone else’s version of a cell or cage? How do we pay attention to the path, mindful of the view, being careful not to Hurry past our own life? t.s. eliot provides one answer in the Dry Salvages:
Fare forward, travellers! Not escaping from the past
Into indifferent lives, or into any future;
You are not the same people who left that station
Or who will arrive at any terminus,
While the narrowing rails slide together behind you;
And on the deck of the drumming liner
Watching the furrow that widens behind you,
You shall not think ‘the past is finished’
Or ‘the future is before us’.
At nightfall, in the rigging and the aerial,
Is a voice descanting (though not to the ear,
The murmuring shell of time, and not in any language)
Fare forward, you who think that you are voyaging;
You are not those who saw the harbour
Receding, or those who will disembark.
Here between the hither and the farther shore
While time is withdrawn, consider the future
And the past with an equal mind.
At the moment which is not of action or inaction
You can receive this: “on whatever sphere of being
The mind of man may be intent
At the time of death” – that is the one action
(And the time of death is every moment)
Which will fructify in the lives of others:
And do not think of the fruit of action.
Fare Forward.
O voyagers, O seamen,
You who came to port, and you whose bodies
Will suffer the trial and judgement of the sea,
Or whatever event, this is your real destination.”
So Krishna, as when he admonished Arjuna
On the field of battle.
Not fare well,
But fare forward, voyagers.
———————————————————————————————————————————-
* Rumpelstiltskin is a tale of spinning and weaving, and probably initially came from the Chansons d’ toile or Working Women’s Songs. These songs are particularly interesting because the one place in a castle, chateau, or villa where no barrier between classes existed was in the spinning and weaving. All women sewed, spun, embroidered, etc., so these stories and songs are especially significant for our knowledge of previous times. By the time the Brothers Grimm get hold of the tale and simplify it/ alter it, of course, it takes on a much different pattern and tone, so it is our task to get underneath it.
** This tale comes from a time period when the idea of “money” was something new. This was a startling discovery, and changed everything in the lives of workers, because now their WORTH could be quantified. This idea was both good and bad as society adjusted, and much of the underlying message can be seen here, almost screaming off the pages. Maybe that should be what this blog is about? The relative worth of an individual worth of an individual human being in changing times?
