Fairy tales tend to be parables. They teach us to look beneath the surface (Beauty and the Beast), to exercise patience and to work to overcome obstacles (Sleeping Beauty), to avoid easy gratification and hold out for the real prizes in life (Pinocchio). In the fairy-tale films of the great Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki, the meanings are often layered.
“. . . he was carried up, and a cloud took him.” Acts 1:9
Gravity, they say, is all about mass. Big attracts Big sucks big pulls big, like death, won’t let go. Still, We worship those who try: “Lucky Lindy,” St. Michael Jordan. Leonardo, bless him, forever plotting how To fly, or assuage the general jowliness of time.
Jesus was taken up, and Mary. St. Teresa of Ávila Had to cling to the rail during prayer to keep from Floating skyward—the Assumption being that things Sometimes fall up. But, come on, which way is Up? That is to say, which way isn’t? If Teresa was
A person of such faith, why didn’t she just let go? Like The man I knew who, after being told he had “maybe Six months,” immediately signed up for swimming Lessons. “Well,” he said, “I just felt that if I could learn How to float, I could learn how to die.”
And the graves were opened; and many bodies . . .     which slept arose, And came out of the graves after     his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and     appeared unto many. Matthew 27:52-53
When asked, “Just what is night anyway?”     Coyote closed his eyes,     Placed his burden basket over his head     And began making the sounds of hoot owl.         “The Burden Basket,” Elderberry Flute             Song, Peter Blue Cloud
What do you think of the little rumblings, the discontents, the warpings of fault lines and fissures? What seems to be said takes some thinking. He led captivity captive.¹ Now that he ascended, what is it but that he also descended first into the lower part of the earth.² What could it have been to descend into the earth: the magma and lava the dark heat nearly sweat lodged there? Was it where he wandered with his ash bucket, his firepans and shovel after Calvary, after the graves were opened? What did the dead do the three days he was in hell preaching on last chance to the unchanced? Did they look at one another and didn’t quite know what to do? Maybe some saw their families on the street and weren’t recognized. How had they changed that they didn’t know them? It would have been too much anyway for the families to know their dead were only waiting on Jesus and had three days to kill and would have to leave again for a second parting while the families were still grieving from the first. Still others hid out, pulling their tunics and cloaks and head cloths about them, holding their little angers, the mistreatments, the rapes, the robberies, and waited on the edge of town for him to return from hell and take them in the air.
By purest chance I was out in our street when the kindergarten Bus mumbled past going slow and I looked up just as all seven Kids on my side of the bus looked at me and I grinned and they Lit up and all this crap about God being dead and where is God And who owns God and who hears God better than whom is the Most egregiously stupid crap imaginable because if you want to See God and have God see you and have this mutual perception Be completely untrammeled by blather and greed and comment, Go stand in the street as the kindergarten bus murmurs past. I’m Not kidding and this is not a metaphor. I am completely serious. Everyone babbles about God but I saw God this morning just as The bus slowed down for the stop on Maple Street. God was six Girls and one boy with a bright green and purple stegosaurus hat. Of course God would wear a brilliantly colored tall dinosaur hat! If you were the Imagination that dreamed up everything that ever Was in this blistering perfect terrible world, wouldn’t you wear a Hat celebrating some of the wildest most amazing developments?
Yogi Berra, who died last month, will always be known as the championship-winning, pint-sized catcher for the New York Yankees and for his Yogi-isms (“It ain’t over till it’s over”). What he really should be known for is being a true gentleman who wore fame about as well as it could be worn, says sports writer Phil Mushnick. One example: Yogi allowed his name to be attached to a celebrity golf classic that raised money for Boy Scout programs for kids with special needs. During the event Yogi would drive kids around the golf course, introducing them by name to the celebrity golfers (New York Post, September 24)