I want to follow up on what I wrote about yesterday, about facing the Balrogs in our lives. After Gandalf plants the staff confronting the Balrog and stating “You shall not pass!” a piece of the bridge on which the beast is standing collapses from beneath it and the Balrog begins a long, slow plummet in theory toward his death. Gandalf the wizard turns to rejoin his companions in their flight out of the dark, scary place they were traveling through. But at the last second the Baulrog’s long whip snakes out from the abyss, wraps around Gandalf’s legs and drags him into the abyss after him. The wizard battle’s the Balrog all the way down into oblivion, leaving his companions to flee to safety. They thought him dead, and so it appeared. But an interesting thing happened in the process of battling the Balrog to the death, a new Gandalf emerges. He goes from being Gandalf the Grey to Gandalf the White, a much more powerful wizard than he had been before.
The moral of this particular story then is that we may face the Balrogs in our lives, planting our staffs, forbidding their passage into our lives, blocking us from progressing in the quests we have undertaken. In the process of the taking our stand and battling in the midst of our plummet into the abyss, we emerge as a different being than we were when we engaged the Balrog in the first place. I’d like to believe this is true.
Sometimes it is not the Balrog–the massive, scary, fiery demon with really big teeth and then there’s the whip–instead it is those niggling little demons that buzz around our heads like gnats, not life-threatening but completely annoying and distracting. Over the past few days I’ve done battle with all kinds of critters, and I am weary. This evening my commute home took nearly two hours. I arrived home cranky at having been in the car that long, but glad to be home. After taking care of Honnie’s needs I went to change my clothes and realized that somewhere during the day or at some point along the way, the chain broke that held two small medals on it. The chain was still hanging around my neck, but the medals were gone. Another wave of crankiness rolled over me, this time tinged with grief over the loss of my medals, which had far more sentimental than actual value.
Why did that have to happen? What was the likelihood that I will find my medals somewhere, especially since I could have easily lost them in the yard as I walked Honor. All of these things, from the tiny gnats buzzing around my head annoying me to the more substantial issues and challenges that I faced during this day, they all represent the fight with the Balrog as we hurtle toward certain death. Only we, like Gandalf do not die but have the potential to emerge from the exhaustion of the flight and battle to having undergone a transformation. I’d like to think that’s what is happening with me. The “what’s next” after the fight with the Balrog is becoming a newer, stronger, more powerful person than I’d been when I first planted the staff and took the tumble with the demon.
I am grateful for these experiences. A friend calls them a derogatory term that I won’t repeat, but the gist is that, whether we like them or not these are learning experiences that we embrace along the way through the abyss. They provide more practice for me of one of the most difficult yet simple things to do: let go. When I find myself fretting, paying too much attention to the gnats and other distractions in my life, rather than be drawn deeply into the drama as it unfolds around me I need to learn to let go, to detach myself from it and move on. Easier said than done, but definitely worth the effort. It’s a contradiction in terms, making the effort to let go of effort and striving and have things be easy. Spiritual teacher Eckhart Tolle says, “Nonresistance, nonjudgement, and nonattachment are the three aspects of true freedom and enlightened living.” Wow, I have a little ways to go to try and achieve those things. But, I have plenty of time during my tumble through the various layers of the underworld.
In the meantime, my gratitude practice keeps me firmly connected to what’s important even as I tumble. I am grateful for all of my “learning experiences.” I am most exceedingly grateful for my gratitude practice. And so it is.
