I'm learning about wings this week.
He will cover you with His pinions,
And under His wings you may seek refuge;
His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark.
Pinions are the long, stiff flight feathers at the furthest tip of a bird's wing. They are individually controlled by the bird to adjust to changes in the wind and air currents. The feathers on a bird's wing get smaller as they recede along the wing toward the body. Each feather has small barbs that lock the feathers around it into place, forming a solid, air-resistant wall of wing.
The bone structure at the end of a bird's wing is referred to as his "hand" - it's made up of various parts, specifically phalanges. In the Greek, phalanx was a tight formation, used in military and anatomical definitions. Anatomically, it describes the knuckle bones along the ridge of your hand - "originally the whole row of finger joints, which fit together like infantry in close order" (Online Etymology Dictionary). They form a barrier, a unified front that cannot be penetrated.
Think along those lines. Mother birds shepherd their chicks and sweep them under their wings at any sign of danger. If an enormous wing were to sweep down and cover you, the feathers would be stiff and tumble you, possibly bruising you in the movement. But you would be pressed into the soft down feathers along the bird's side. From the outside, nothing could get through to you.
Now look at this: the word "bulwark" derives from bole, meaning "plank, tree trunk" (OED). The word "phalanx," before it was used in the Greek, derives from the Proto-Indo-European word meaning "round piece of wood, trunk, log" (OED).
I'm still working on the significance of all this. But it's reassuring to know that I am in a place that is warm, safe, and impenetrable. I am protected, kept in line, mothered tenderly. And yet the protection set up around me that is so stiff and fierce is also a force that nurtures and soothes. Again...paradox.
A catalogue of the writer's thoughts - particularly those more organized, relevant, and creative.
Monday, May 24, 2010
I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg.
It occurs to me that this Peter Pan thing has been a recurring theme in my life for at least the last six years. I'm going to essai (French for "test"; first used by Michel de Montaigne to describe his rambling, often circuitous explorations of his thoughts and feelings as he tested out their causation and results).
Peter Pan: a boy just before manhood - not so different from a girl just before womanhood, I think. Frightened of growing up, but desperate for it (thus all the dress-up and make-believe). Yet Pan is trapped in childhood - I wonder if he stubbornly flies in the face of everything adult just because he's frustrated by never being able to have it? Peter Pan is often played by slight women, and he does seem rather caught between the male and the female. That's an awkward balance to maintain for a little while, much less be for the rest of your life.
Wendy: a girl who is a woman but still a girl. Wendy sees the practicality and sense that adulthood demands, and she longs for a steadiness, a sense of order (which is why everyone was assigned roles and tasks, bedtimes were established, vitamins were introduced...). But she quickly and willingly loses herself in childish fantasy. She loves Peter's freedom and courage, and she chooses to believe the illusion of him growing up when he assumes the make-believe role of the papa. But for him it is a game, to be discarded when it is tired, while Wendy convinces herself it can exist.
Tinkerbell: a woman who acts like a child, but is deeply and truly a woman. Tink is petulant and spiteful to Wendy - she has been replaced. She has accepted Peter for the child that he is and loves him dearly, and she resents Wendy's intrusion to the core of her being. Yet she willingly sacrifices herself for Wendy in order to fulfill Peter's happiness... I wonder how her size and provisional nature affect the bond between her and Peter? I wonder - if she were full-size, would she have loved Peter as unabashedly? Or would a simple size difference have changed her understanding of the boy?
I have called myself Wendy. Realizing that the Boy I loved would never grow up, I went rather sadly back to grown up life and watched his adventures from a distance. He would visit when he remembered me, but the visits grew further and further apart.
I have been called Peter Pan. "An enchanting creature - not quite a woman, still a little girl, and part fairy, I think." Assuming Peter is rather above gender (or why else would they have cast women in his role?), we two are similar: physically, I am slight and boyish; emotionally, I act in turns masculine and feminine; I have a grown-up's intellect but choose to believe the fairy tales I spin for myself (and those of others as well).
And I understand Tinkerbell. She has a heart that is too expansive for her size, and a body that cannot contain the reach of her desire. She is a third wheel, the best friend, the girl he loves but doesn't choose.
Peter Pan: a boy just before manhood - not so different from a girl just before womanhood, I think. Frightened of growing up, but desperate for it (thus all the dress-up and make-believe). Yet Pan is trapped in childhood - I wonder if he stubbornly flies in the face of everything adult just because he's frustrated by never being able to have it? Peter Pan is often played by slight women, and he does seem rather caught between the male and the female. That's an awkward balance to maintain for a little while, much less be for the rest of your life.
Wendy: a girl who is a woman but still a girl. Wendy sees the practicality and sense that adulthood demands, and she longs for a steadiness, a sense of order (which is why everyone was assigned roles and tasks, bedtimes were established, vitamins were introduced...). But she quickly and willingly loses herself in childish fantasy. She loves Peter's freedom and courage, and she chooses to believe the illusion of him growing up when he assumes the make-believe role of the papa. But for him it is a game, to be discarded when it is tired, while Wendy convinces herself it can exist.
Tinkerbell: a woman who acts like a child, but is deeply and truly a woman. Tink is petulant and spiteful to Wendy - she has been replaced. She has accepted Peter for the child that he is and loves him dearly, and she resents Wendy's intrusion to the core of her being. Yet she willingly sacrifices herself for Wendy in order to fulfill Peter's happiness... I wonder how her size and provisional nature affect the bond between her and Peter? I wonder - if she were full-size, would she have loved Peter as unabashedly? Or would a simple size difference have changed her understanding of the boy?
I have called myself Wendy. Realizing that the Boy I loved would never grow up, I went rather sadly back to grown up life and watched his adventures from a distance. He would visit when he remembered me, but the visits grew further and further apart.
I have been called Peter Pan. "An enchanting creature - not quite a woman, still a little girl, and part fairy, I think." Assuming Peter is rather above gender (or why else would they have cast women in his role?), we two are similar: physically, I am slight and boyish; emotionally, I act in turns masculine and feminine; I have a grown-up's intellect but choose to believe the fairy tales I spin for myself (and those of others as well).
And I understand Tinkerbell. She has a heart that is too expansive for her size, and a body that cannot contain the reach of her desire. She is a third wheel, the best friend, the girl he loves but doesn't choose.
"The last thing he ever said to me was,
'Just always be waiting for me,
and then some night you will hear me crowing."
'Just always be waiting for me,
and then some night you will hear me crowing."
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