Genies and Demons
Genies and Demons
an Essay by Marie Winger-Meyer.
copyright 12/21/2006
The genies and the demons are both myself and I am them.
The genie is when I feel the potential and the enormity of the world and all of its complexities. As the frantic beating of the wings of a hummingbird, inside my arm muscles - inside my head - my legs - all of me - I want to go out and run the fields - build the Tower of Babel - draw circles in the sand. The enormity of the possibilities is contrasted against my very limited resources, my mind, my body - time and space itself. It is as if I am the genie residing in the bottle of this place, time, and substance. And yet, there are still great things to be done inside this bottle - or - as if a funnel or a lens, through it. And the bottle itself holds great secrets that can satiate bits of the mind with their surprising intricacies and unexpected treasures. The genie is a wonderful force, a frustrating force, my goal and, when listened to and reacted to - the best thing about being alive.
The demons.
This is hard to describe - but beside the genie force there is a dark thick thread that wraps itself around things. It pervades them. It suggests and I deny. Perhaps every human being has this - my mother told me when I was a little girl that it was the opposite of the conscience - or very close to it. It tells you what could be wrong - what evil could occurr, to inform and allow you to keep yourself from it. And especially to keep yourself from being the cause of it.
It is frightening. It is disturbing. And it does that job well. It is a deep sense of dread and shock that something could be crushed, cut, fall and otherwise be damaged by my hands, (or by my actions or inaction). It is almost a premonition - that rarely comes true. I see it - I feel it, it terrifies me to no end, I hate it, as strongly and as deeply as humanly possible.
Yet as much as I hate it, I respect it, and have come to appreciate it. Initially, it seems to take the beauty out of things - and yet then it lets it flow back in, stronger than before - more purposeful and fully understood just how beautiful it all really is.
To hold a newborn kitten and wonder at it - take extreme joy in the life and essence of it, and have that dark thread boil up - 'it is fragile, so fragile your hands could damage it easily' - it frightens me for a second, then reminds me as well 'be careful, be gentle, it is so soft and so wonderous, so tiny and defenseless. It trusts you - it is real and separate and beautiful in itself. Your care and carefulness keep it beautiful, keep it as it should be. And you - you are the one who could also protect it, keep it as it is by not allowing anything else to harm it - to ruin it - to take away that which makes it as it is.' It is a tangible interior dichotomy - a split-second that occurrs in the spaces in-between. I am very aware of it. Maybe I am too aware of it, and other people simply ignore it.
And there I am, between the genies and the demons. The genies, with their potential and restriction as the two faces of a coin, joined face to face, opposite - but required - predestined, to be as they are, and to make on the edge of it what can be made... And the demons, with their potential for evil - that becomes a shield of resistance, opposite of it's intention, yet beautiful in that same regard. It prevents what it predicts. By the sheer shock of its suggestion - it causes caution.
The "I" has always existed between the two, in some indescribable way. I am all of it and, again, neither of them entirely. These poles, they are not at one end or the other. They are both above me as much as they are both below me. They are both to the right and left of me simultaneously. They attract and repel - absorb me and spit me out. I am made up of them, as much as they would not exist without me.
And of the good? The protective, beauty-preserving instinct? Is it a separate thing as well? I can't say at this time. Perhaps it is the genie - reacting to the demon? Or is it me? I'd like to think it is me. And the things I achieve, that which I know, those abilities I have gained from following the genie - I hope those are me as well. The genie is only inspiration - a door through which to view and realize what can be done.
The genie leads. I follow. The demon presses. I repel.
an Essay by Marie Winger-Meyer.
copyright 12/21/2006
The genies and the demons are both myself and I am them.
The genie is when I feel the potential and the enormity of the world and all of its complexities. As the frantic beating of the wings of a hummingbird, inside my arm muscles - inside my head - my legs - all of me - I want to go out and run the fields - build the Tower of Babel - draw circles in the sand. The enormity of the possibilities is contrasted against my very limited resources, my mind, my body - time and space itself. It is as if I am the genie residing in the bottle of this place, time, and substance. And yet, there are still great things to be done inside this bottle - or - as if a funnel or a lens, through it. And the bottle itself holds great secrets that can satiate bits of the mind with their surprising intricacies and unexpected treasures. The genie is a wonderful force, a frustrating force, my goal and, when listened to and reacted to - the best thing about being alive.
The demons.
This is hard to describe - but beside the genie force there is a dark thick thread that wraps itself around things. It pervades them. It suggests and I deny. Perhaps every human being has this - my mother told me when I was a little girl that it was the opposite of the conscience - or very close to it. It tells you what could be wrong - what evil could occurr, to inform and allow you to keep yourself from it. And especially to keep yourself from being the cause of it.
It is frightening. It is disturbing. And it does that job well. It is a deep sense of dread and shock that something could be crushed, cut, fall and otherwise be damaged by my hands, (or by my actions or inaction). It is almost a premonition - that rarely comes true. I see it - I feel it, it terrifies me to no end, I hate it, as strongly and as deeply as humanly possible.
Yet as much as I hate it, I respect it, and have come to appreciate it. Initially, it seems to take the beauty out of things - and yet then it lets it flow back in, stronger than before - more purposeful and fully understood just how beautiful it all really is.
To hold a newborn kitten and wonder at it - take extreme joy in the life and essence of it, and have that dark thread boil up - 'it is fragile, so fragile your hands could damage it easily' - it frightens me for a second, then reminds me as well 'be careful, be gentle, it is so soft and so wonderous, so tiny and defenseless. It trusts you - it is real and separate and beautiful in itself. Your care and carefulness keep it beautiful, keep it as it should be. And you - you are the one who could also protect it, keep it as it is by not allowing anything else to harm it - to ruin it - to take away that which makes it as it is.' It is a tangible interior dichotomy - a split-second that occurrs in the spaces in-between. I am very aware of it. Maybe I am too aware of it, and other people simply ignore it.
And there I am, between the genies and the demons. The genies, with their potential and restriction as the two faces of a coin, joined face to face, opposite - but required - predestined, to be as they are, and to make on the edge of it what can be made... And the demons, with their potential for evil - that becomes a shield of resistance, opposite of it's intention, yet beautiful in that same regard. It prevents what it predicts. By the sheer shock of its suggestion - it causes caution.
The "I" has always existed between the two, in some indescribable way. I am all of it and, again, neither of them entirely. These poles, they are not at one end or the other. They are both above me as much as they are both below me. They are both to the right and left of me simultaneously. They attract and repel - absorb me and spit me out. I am made up of them, as much as they would not exist without me.
And of the good? The protective, beauty-preserving instinct? Is it a separate thing as well? I can't say at this time. Perhaps it is the genie - reacting to the demon? Or is it me? I'd like to think it is me. And the things I achieve, that which I know, those abilities I have gained from following the genie - I hope those are me as well. The genie is only inspiration - a door through which to view and realize what can be done.
The genie leads. I follow. The demon presses. I repel.
posted by RheLynn at 12:20 PM
1 Comments:
This is a wonderful essay - so thoughtful and even. Realizing that both poles useful is one of the hardest struggles.
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