Daily Excerpt: The Rose and the Sword (Hucknall)
Excerpt from The Rose and the Sword by Nanette Hucknall --
Tend the Light
One of the positive
qualities of the feminine is beauty in all its forms. The experience of beauty
opens one’s heart, and also changes relationships with others.
People often think of beauty in a superficial way and fail to
appreciate its impact on their lives. The sheer numbers of people who frequent
art museums always strikes us: although some may be drawn to a particular
artist, or are knowledgeable about art, it is the beauty that draws, and beauty
that is the magnet.
A similar experience can occur with
all the arts: listening to a concert, watching dance, absorbing great writing –
all can touch our hearts, as can, also, nature. Why are we so drawn to
beautiful sunsets and sunrises? When nature paints glorious images on the sky
canvas, are we not reborn in some way?
The following tale illustrates the transformative power of beauty:
Robert sat at his
desk with the bile of anger rising in him. He
fantasized charging into his boss’s office in the executive wing, slamming his
resignation down on his desk and yelling, “I
quit!” at that bland expressionless face. Ah,
that would get a rise out of him, wouldn’t it?
He sighed, and stared down at the shoppers going in and out of the
store. Viewed from the top floor, they looked like little robots dodging toy
cars in the street. It was drizzling. Spring refused to come this year. Maybe
he’d feel better when it warmed up. He shivered, and tried to shake off his
bleak mood.
Lately, he’d felt either angry or listless. At least when he was angry,
he had some energy. Every morning the corridor to his corner office seemed to
stretch endlessly into a gray void. He recalled earlier days, bouncing down that
corridor full of life and enthusiasm.
Robert was a manager in Sykes Department Store. He’d started working
there at twenty-four. How ambitious he’d been back then, hoping eventually to
take over a whole floor, or, who knows, become a vice-president! He was a good
salesman and had achieved his present position fairly quickly. But then,
everything stopped. Aware of the “glass ceiling” in the corporate world that
keeps women from being promoted to top positions, he realized he’d bumped into
his own. For the last ten years he felt stalled in his life.
Oh, well, he comforted himself yet again. At
least if I stay long enough I’ll have a pension and there’ll be enough money
for the family to live comfortably. The store was very solid and offered
great stock bonuses. When he retired, he and Ellen would be well off enough to
travel as much as they wanted. He grinned as he heard his grandson’s voice
chant out, “Bo-ring!” It was the boy’s current refrain about the state of his
own adolescent world. He hoped Johnny would never end up like him. Now there’s a depressing thought!
Robert managed the household goods department. In the early days, all
the department managers reported directly to the president. But since the store
had grown, with branches all over the country, a layer of vice-presidents was
created and all the managers reported to them. So, although he’d started as a
sales clerk and worked his way up to manager, he now felt he was moving down in the hierarchy. He hardly
saw the president anymore on a day-to-day basis. His job had become lackluster.
What made things worse, he thought, pounding his fist tiredly on his desk, was
that whenever a vacancy for vice-president came up, everyone around him was
promoted, but not him. It seemed a stream of younger and less experienced
people was passing him by. Let’s face it,
I’m thoroughly stuck! It wasn’t that
he hadn’t said anything. Several times he’d asked the big boss about it, but
always got the same answer: A big wink, a smile, a pat on the back, and “Your
department is doing so well, we can’t afford to take a chance on someone else!”
At first he was flattered, but then he wondered what was really going
on. Some years back he even went on a job search. His resume was excellent, but
no company could pay him what he was making at Sykes with the raises and
bonuses over the years.
He began to think about his young assistant, Ruel. Ambitious, energetic and, let’s face it, pushy. He knew the younger
man was after his job. He sighed wearily. Well,
that was me, too. I used to have that
kind of energy. All I thought about was getting ahead. And, look at me now! I’m
getting nowhere. For all I know, he’ll end up with my job and I’ll be out on
the street.
He plunged into work, checking
inventory, meeting with the sales staff, his usual routine. By 11 o’clock, he
was already thinking about lunch and watching the infuriatingly slow minutes
crawl by. He recalled how he used to feel at school watching the clock. The same way. Has nothing changed? Is this
what life is all about? For the first time he understood why people kill
themselves. Not that I would ever do that.
But there must be something he could do to make life more interesting, more
challenging! I can do this job with my
eyes closed, he thought dismally.
At noon, he heaved a sigh and arranged his
sandwich and newspaper on his desk. The street below was packed with cars that
were barely moving. It was much too wet to eat in the park. Sometimes a
colleague would join him and they would talk about everything except work. That
was a rule they’d set up many years ago, to have the freedom of the hour to
relax.
Today, he read the paper with little energy. After a few minutes he put
it down. Josie needs talking to. What a
bother. She always gets defensive every time I try to tell her something. Why
can’t Sarah do it for a change?
Josie was their late-life surprise.
The other children were all married but she was only sixteen, and a handful,
wanting her own way and not listening to sensible advice. He sighed. I guess I should be happy. At least she’s
not on drugs.
As he was munching his sandwich, there was a knock on the door. Before
he could respond, his assistant, Ruel, rushed in, shouting, “Come on, hurry! We
just caught someone shoplifting.”
Not
again,
he thought, annoyed at the intrusion and Ruel’s attitude of self-importance. Good-looking and full of himself. Ambitious,
too. If he didn’t watch out, he’d walk in one day and find Ruel at his
desk. He stood up wearily to deal with the thief. His department had been hit
more than usual recently after putting in some expensive knickknack items and
toiletries. Kids, it’s always kids!
He followed the younger man to the security office, where the guard was
hovering over a well-dressed elderly woman sitting very upright in her chair.
“What’s going on?” Robert asked the guard. He turned to Ruel and said,
“Alright, you can go. I’ll take care of this.”
The younger man frowned, started to protest and then left, reluctantly.
“Caught her red-handed putting this in her purse.” The guard held up a
statue about 10 inches high of a woman reclining on a bed made out of a shell.
Robert sat down opposite the woman. She was wearing an
expensive-looking grey silk suit and a pearl necklace that gave her a final
touch of elegance. Her white hair was pulled back into a French knot and she
was holding a large black shopping bag tightly in her hands. She looked very
poised and calm. Only the twitching of her hands on the clasp of the bag
betrayed her anxiety.
“Did you call the police?” he asked the guard.
“Right away. They’ll be here shortly.”
Tears slipped down the woman’s cheeks from her glistening blue eyes.
She looked downward, as if resigned to the outcome.
As he pulled a chair to sit opposite her, he dismissed the guard.
“Why did you do it? You don’t
have the appearance of a shoplifter.” As he spoke, he was thinking that this
was just another case of kleptomania. She looked so pathetic he wanted to pat
her on the head. He stifled the impulse and repeated his question.
“I had to have this statue.” Her voice
was soft and low. “I know it was wrong to do, but I needed that statue.”
She then looked up at him. Her gaze was strong and unwavering. “I have
never done this before, believe me!”
How many times had he heard that?
“There’s always a first time for
stealing,” Robert said. He picked up a pad on the desk and started writing up
the case for a report required by the store.
Once the particulars were addressed, he turned to her and said, “Who
you are doesn’t matter to me. What you just did, does. I need a statement from
you for my report.”
“Who I am does matter to me, and certainly needs to be part of your
report!” She glared sternly at him. “I did not steal this statue. It belongs to
me. My name is Roselyn Hastings.”
She paused, as if waiting for him to acknowledge her. When he didn’t,
she continued, “I’m certain you have heard of the Hastings family. I have owned
this statue since I was eight. It was stolen from me five years ago. A new
handyman came into my house to do some repairs and I found it missing, with
some other pieces, soon afterward. It is a very valuable piece. Obviously you
were not aware of its true value, as the marked price was very low.”
“But, why didn’t you tell the store, or just buy it?” Robert
interrupted.
“I know I should have, but I was terrified that something would happen
and I wouldn’t get it back if I told the store; and frankly, I couldn’t afford
to buy it even at this low price. And perhaps I wouldn’t be believed if I told
the truth. My reaction when I saw it was to just take it.”
Robert picked up the statue, which had been placed on the table.
Looking at it closely, he saw that it was made of bronze and exquisitely
crafted, smooth in some areas, textured in others. The shell cupped the woman’s
body as if she had been sleeping in its depth and was now being born anew. He
recalled having bought it in an assortment of less valuable pieces. He hadn’t
examined it carefully, but had just assumed it was of the same quality as the
others.
“Well, what you did was wrong, but under the circumstances, we won’t
press charges. But, we do need proof from you that you owned this piece and
that it was stolen.”
“I have proof. A police report was filed at the time; and since this
piece is worth a half million dollars, I assure you it was well described.”
“A half million dollars?” Robert was
shocked.
“It’s an original Rodin.” She smiled
for the first time and Robert saw the beauty of her face.
“A Rodin!” Robert looked at the
piece again and realized that it could indeed be a Rodin.
“I bought it at an auction of a lot
of inexpensive things. It never dawned on me that it was that valuable. It must
have gone through quite a few hands of people who never questioned it.”
She continued, “You can imagine how
surprised I was to see it sitting here in the store. I thought it must be a
copy of mine, but when I examined it, I saw a mark in the bronze that has
always been there and knew it had to be mine.”
At that moment, the police arrived.
When everything was explained, the police said they would hold on to the statue
until verification that it belonged to Roselyn. Robert saw fear in her eyes as
they reached for the statue.
“No,” he said. “This is still the
property of the store, until it’s proven otherwise. I’ll take care of it
personally and keep it safely locked up.” Robert smiled at Roselyn. “It
shouldn’t take long to verify that it belongs to you. I promise to take good
care of it.” She thanked him with a grateful smile.
When Robert returned to his office,
he put the statue on his desk. Just for
now. I’ll put it in the store vault
later.
But
he couldn’t get back to work. In spite of a pile of inventory he needed to go
through, he found himself just gazing at the statue. He had never been big on
art and, particularly, sculpture, but this piece was different. The woman’s
body was full and voluptuous, her curves accentuated by the contour of the
shell. Robert was mesmerized. He even picked the statue up a few times and
turned it in the sunlight streaming in the window so he could see all the
details. The piece was so alive that at any moment he expected the woman to
reach out to him for help in stepping out of the shell.
A strange feeling crept into his
heart, a kind of warmth. What was it? He felt happy. Maybe that was it. But it
was more than that. Not happy like ‘fun happy’, but a happiness in his whole
body, as if his heart was simply content with life. How could that be? He looked around his boring office and at the
work he hated piled up on the table; but now everything felt exciting and
challenging. Nothing would be boring again, not with the statue there. She made
life beautiful. That’s it! She’s the
cause of my euphoria.
Then he began working. In less than
two hours he had gone through the tedious task of checking the inventory,
noting what he needed to reorder, and recording income received and spent; and
the entire time his heart was happy.
The phone rang. It was his wife,
complaining, yet again, about Josie. At least every other day he would receive
such a call and he would half listen, saying, “Yes, yes,” not really bothering
to comment to any extent as it was usually the same complaints. But this time
he listened fully, and instead of agreeing, he said, “How do you feel when she
doesn’t listen to your advice?”
The silence was long. “What do you mean, how do I feel?”
“Just what I said. When she acts up
around you, how does that make you feel?”
“I guess I feel frustrated.”
“Anything else?”
“Maybe scared that she won’t turn
out okay?”
“So it sounds like you worry about
her.”
“Of course I worry.”
“You know, Sarah, worrying isn’t going to help her. Maybe it would be
better just to love her and believe in her.”
When Robert hung up the phone, he
sat in silence. The words had come out of his mouth from nowhere. What was
happening to him?
Again he looked at the statue, and
knew that it was changing him, making him softer. Like the curves that flowed
from the shell to the figure, everything he did now was flowing and the
movement was gentle. It was feminine, not in a way that he would normally
attribute to feminine, but a more internal way of being. He still felt
masculine but even the masculine was now softer, not so demanding an energy.
I
can’t let this happen to me. Robert experienced a shot of fear. He didn’t
want to become feminine. That’s the last thing he wanted.
Just then, Ruel showed up. Robert
felt embarrassed about the fact that the statue was still sitting on his desk.
Ruel – or was it his imagination? – looked like he was smirking. Suddenly
uncomfortable that he had spent so much time gazing at the voluptuous figure,
and wondering what Ruel was thinking, Robert abruptly told him to find a box
for the piece. When the younger man returned with the box, Robert sent him on
his way.
Before placing the statue in the
box, Robert sat and gazed at it one last time. His earlier embarrassment
vanished as the outlines of the statue seemed to pulsate and a kind of essence
radiated from the figure and touched his heart with a gentle joy. No, he thought, no young idiot who doesn’t understand anything is going to get to me.
At that moment he decided he was going to learn more about art. It would be a
great thing to share with Sarah and Josie, too.
As he placed the statue inside the box, he had difficulty closing the
lid. It wasn’t because of the fit – there was plenty of room. It was his hands.
They seemed to have a life of their own and were reluctant to close off the
figure that brought him so much happiness.
He finally carefully sealed the box,
wrote his name on it and took it to Security to be placed in the vault.
Returning to his office, he sat at his desk and sighed. Everything was back to
normal again.
That evening, things were quiet at
home. Even Josie and Sarah were calm. There were no fights. He was still
feeling serene, but was certain the effect of the statue would wear off and he
would soon be his old self.
The next day at work, Robert had a staff meeting with the buyers. It
was a weekly meeting during which he routinely discussed what new goods needed
to be acquired and gave instructions to be carried out. Even though he had
several buyers working for him, Robert still insisted on doing most of the work
himself. The result was that the buyers had very little input and simply
followed his directions. They often left his department because of this, but
Robert didn’t care. Selecting new goods was his favorite part of the job, and
his only creative outlet.
Today, the meeting was droning along
as usual until he found himself saying to his oldest buyer, “Pauline, I need
you to determine the new line. There’s some beautiful bed linen coming out that
I’d like you to look at. I’m going to leave the decision up to you.”
Then Robert gave similar
instructions to the other two buyers, who glanced at each other, excited and
utterly flabbergasted. There was a very different energy in the room, a quality
of lightness that seemed to replace the tired, humdrum feeling that usually
permeated these meetings.
When they left, Robert again felt
very happy, almost joyful. He looked at his desk, expecting to see the statue
sitting there, but no, there was only the usual picture of his wife and kids.
After several days, he still was
acting in this new, strange way. By now everyone had noticed. His wife and
daughter were getting along so well that home was a loving place for the first
time in years. He no longer had to work such long hours to finish everything
because he delegated work to the staff, and they all seemed much happier. His friends asked if everything was all right:
Was he on some kind of medication?
One day, several months later, his boss, Frank, called Robert into his
office and informed him that the Executive Board members were very pleased with
his new policies and they had decided to give him the new vice-president
position.
When Robert returned to his office and pondered these recent events, he
suddenly recalled the statue. It was the statue that had
caused his transformation! Yes, that must be it! Everything had changed since
then. He didn’t understand it, and he had somehow sidestepped how this had
happened. Now he wondered why he hadn’t received a notice to return the statue to the woman. Immediately, he phoned the
police and inquired about the event.
After a long moment, the desk
officer reported, “I’m looking at the records of the dispatch unit for that
day. There’s no record of your store calling us and no report was filed. Are
you sure you have the right day?”
“Of course,” he replied. “I made out
the report myself, and am holding the statue for verification.”
“Let me do a search on the Roselyn Hastings robbery and get back to
you.”
Later that day the policeman called. “Mr. Burns? This is Adam Ferguson,
the policeman you spoke to earlier.”
“Yes? What have you found out?”
“We’ve investigated the supposed robbery of five years ago. We even
went as far back as ten years.” Adam paused. “We found no record of any
robbery. So, I called the Hastings home and was told by the maid that there was
a Roselyn Hastings, but she’s been dead for five years.”
“But, that’s impossible. I saw her! Several people saw her.”
“Well, I asked the maid to describe her, and it fits the description
you gave me earlier today.”
“That’s not possible!” Robert was speechless.
“I also asked about the statue,” Adam continued, “and the maid said
that yes, there was a Rodin statue that belonged to Roselyn, and it now belongs
to her son, Robert.”
After he hung up, Robert slumped down in his chair. His stomach was
churning and his head spinning. He took time to calm down, then stood up,
headed for the Security office and asked the guard for the box. When the guard
handed it over, Robert realized it was much too light. Upon returning to his
office, he opened the box with shaking hands. It was empty.
Commentary
In this story,
Robert’s heart is awakened through experiencing beauty. Just as the statue
affected Robert, we too are changed when we relate to the work of an artist who
has conveyed realms of beauty onto canvas or into clay or another medium. We
leave a gallery or museum where such beauty exists with a more open heart and
uplifted in spirit.
Robert’s experience brings him a new
understanding as the exquisite statue awakens his inner feminine. One of the
qualities of the feminine is the deepening of the ability to relate to others,
and Robert finds himself communicating with his staff and his family with
greater ease and understanding. He no longer needs to control them, an aspect
of the negative masculine. His young assistant, Ruel, who carries echoes of a
younger Robert, embodies other aspects of the negative masculine: ambition,
single-mindedness, without a shred of understanding or compassion.
As Robert grows into an acceptance
of the qualities of the feminine, he is able to approach his job with renewed
vitality, creativity and interest, and finds a deepening peace and joy in his
life. His journey provides a map for readers to use in their own inner quest.
Neither the masculine nor feminine
can stand alone. If we are predominately one or the other, we are literally
living half a life: an inner one that we cannot express in the world, or an
outer one, like Robert’s, that is lacking in inspiration and compassion. It is
only when we strive toward achieving balance that we can fully enjoy the
richness that is our birthright.
The following exercise invites you to
experience the effects of beauty:
Find something that you feel is really
beautiful. It can be a painting, a flower, a piece of music.
Find
a place to sit comfortably and just be with what you have chosen. Try to see or
hear as much as you can about it. For example, if it is a painting, look
closely at the colors and see how they blend together. If it’s a piece of
music, listen to it several times, exploring the nuances of its tones. Let
yourself absorb the beauty, as deeply as you can.
When
you are ready, imagine you can bring the experience into your heart, and feel
it. Breathe it in, and feel its energy. Keep doing this for a few moments, and
then close your eyes and continue feeling the experience of beauty within your
whole being.
As
you begin to come back to the room you’re in, take time to notice the effects
of this experience on you. Then, decide whether you wish to continue this
exercise for more time.
Read more posts about Nanette and her books HERE.
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