Honorable Rudolph

I'm really ill with bronchitis. Haven't had it for ages. Although I used to get it every year at least once, and several times it turned into pneumonia, I stopped this annual habit the year I met my husband. He saw me packing potent antibiotics to take to college with me and asked me what they were for. I told him, "Oh, I get bronchitis every year." He looked alarmed, and sounded decisive, and said, "Stop doing that." So I stopped.

It's been a long time since I felt like this. I think it puts me into a near-trance sort of mental state, and it is difficult to find time for trance type jaunts when children are dependent. The Great Husband (hm... just tried that out ... I think I like it. There are the young giants, and The Great Husband.) -- oh. Where was I? Ah. The Great Husband. He's bringing herbs and homeopathy home tonight, and this will pass quickly enough, but I'm not going to waste energy pushing it away. I'll just see what visions come this time.

For instance. The instructor told us the tale of the Prisoner of Zenda as a metaphor for the human psyche and development, and the class talked about how much we owe to our Honorable Rudolphs for keeping track of Ruritania while our Crown Prince is locked in the tower. But she said that the dude who wants to consume the kingdom in a huge pillage of self-indulgence and burn it all up in an orgy of possession "has no redeeming features." I got to thinking about this in my semi-visionary state. It's nagging at me.

See, I have a working theory that if we cannot love, we cannot understand. Or, to put it another way, to see any human behavior as utterly "other" and to have no relationship to it at all is to choose blindness. You cannot see what you cannot love. Not really.

Now don't misunderstand me. I do not mean that evil behavior is loveable. When our Black Michael wants to steal the crown and kingdom and lay waste to all our gifts and bounty of soul and personality, we do not love Black Michael by allowing him to do so. I do not mean that we ought to open up to everything as if all things are the same thing. I mean that we ought to see what we're looking at instead of seeing what we're looking for. We have to figure out the part of what we're looking at that is truly human.

Without suggesting that all ills can be cured through supplying needed elements (they cannot, because regardless of supply, humans still must choose to accept, own, receive, and have), I do suggest one thing. It is not evil to want to have a place in the kingdom.

We wrote short essays on who our Crown Princes were (your gifted self), and who our Honorable Rudolphs were (your self that does the day to day operations while your gifted self is in exile). It was pretty simple for me to do my essay. My Crown Prince knows and tells the truth with terrifying and careless accuracy - my Honorable Rudolph takes care of everyone. When my Crown Prince has had enough time all holed up in the tower of imprisonment - enough time to have a good long think about how he has squandered his inheritance like a careless child - and then comes back to take his rightful place, he knows enough to be grateful to Rudolph. And he knows enough not to trample everyone else by butting into their business or telling what he thinks is the "truth" all the time.

After class, though, I think I cannot so easily dismiss Black Michael. He's not allowed to run rampant ... but what he wants? It's not all bad. (Thanks, Mr. Conroy.)