Every Willing Hand
by Bryn Beorse
Chapter 13: Freedom's Gate
People trapped in civilization's spider-web have no place to land which is free, as do the birds. There is a story of two birds who loved each other so much that they forgot everything else, even themselves; even that they existed. They soared over the mountains, dived into the virile foliage of the forests and jungles, rose into the blue yonder, sang their joy to all creation.
One day the male bird found himself alone. He waited patiently awhile. Later he flew into every thicket looking. Then, he visited the houses of people, first the poor peasant houses, thinking his kind-hearted mate might have gone to sing for these people so that, for a moment, they could forget their hunger. The bird was not in any of these houses.
At last, with a heavy heart, the bird sought its mate in the palatial home of a mighty prince who was known to use all things and beings for his own pleasure only, with no regard for the feelings of his subjects.
The bird-mate was there. It had been trapped and was sitting in a beautiful golden cage pining away, slowly dying, longing for its mate and not even noticing the gold bars of the cage, the expensive furniture and sumptuous room.
The distraught male bird flew back and forth outside the window through which he could see his sweetheart, but not be with her. How could he possibly help her escape?
One day, as the captive bird, as usual, watched her mate flying back and forth before her window, she suddenly saw him drop out of sight. She was heartbroken. Her lover was dead! She had nothing to live for any longer.
But he came back. Again he flew back and forth before her window -and then again he dropped right down, out of sight. Now the captive bird began to wonder.
When her sweetheart returned again, flew back and forth and then again dropped out of sight, she realized he must have tried to convey a message. But what?
Then she knew! Like her beloved bird-mate outside, she now dropped down and lay still on the bottom of the cage, as dead.
The prince and his family came in and saw the bird lying still on the floor of the cage.
"Oh, Shamandra, my Prince", wailed the wife, "we have killed her. The poor bird has died from sorrow and loneliness."
She took the cage to the open window, opened the little door and stuck her hand in to take out the bird she thought was dead.
The bird flew away, free, and joined its mate.
"You gave me the message," she said, "that I must die to become free."
Some interpret this story in the same vein as Solon, the Greek sage who said to Croesus, the King,
"Only behind the grave do you find happiness."
But there is a more subtle interpretation, widely held:
You must die before death to find freedom and happiness. You must play dead.
How do you play dead? And what do you gain by it? If you love, you play dead. You become so absorbed in the beloved you do not exist any more. There is no self, no feeling of a separate being. Also, if you are absorbed in a task, you play dead. If you rush into battle to defend your country, your principles, you are playing with death and you may really die, too. If you contemplate greatness, you are dead to yourself. You are lifted outside yourself.
Are you a bird in a golden cage? When you forge yourself, you become free. You may become happy. Why? Because you have become a living part of the great pulsating creation.
This is the stirring symbol of the CROSS: Where your little self is nailed to the cross and dies, your larger, wider self comes to life.
by Bryn Beorse
Chapter 13: Freedom's Gate
People trapped in civilization's spider-web have no place to land which is free, as do the birds. There is a story of two birds who loved each other so much that they forgot everything else, even themselves; even that they existed. They soared over the mountains, dived into the virile foliage of the forests and jungles, rose into the blue yonder, sang their joy to all creation.
One day the male bird found himself alone. He waited patiently awhile. Later he flew into every thicket looking. Then, he visited the houses of people, first the poor peasant houses, thinking his kind-hearted mate might have gone to sing for these people so that, for a moment, they could forget their hunger. The bird was not in any of these houses.
At last, with a heavy heart, the bird sought its mate in the palatial home of a mighty prince who was known to use all things and beings for his own pleasure only, with no regard for the feelings of his subjects.
The bird-mate was there. It had been trapped and was sitting in a beautiful golden cage pining away, slowly dying, longing for its mate and not even noticing the gold bars of the cage, the expensive furniture and sumptuous room.
The distraught male bird flew back and forth outside the window through which he could see his sweetheart, but not be with her. How could he possibly help her escape?
One day, as the captive bird, as usual, watched her mate flying back and forth before her window, she suddenly saw him drop out of sight. She was heartbroken. Her lover was dead! She had nothing to live for any longer.
But he came back. Again he flew back and forth before her window -and then again he dropped right down, out of sight. Now the captive bird began to wonder.
When her sweetheart returned again, flew back and forth and then again dropped out of sight, she realized he must have tried to convey a message. But what?
Then she knew! Like her beloved bird-mate outside, she now dropped down and lay still on the bottom of the cage, as dead.
The prince and his family came in and saw the bird lying still on the floor of the cage.
"Oh, Shamandra, my Prince", wailed the wife, "we have killed her. The poor bird has died from sorrow and loneliness."
She took the cage to the open window, opened the little door and stuck her hand in to take out the bird she thought was dead.
The bird flew away, free, and joined its mate.
"You gave me the message," she said, "that I must die to become free."
Some interpret this story in the same vein as Solon, the Greek sage who said to Croesus, the King,
"Only behind the grave do you find happiness."
But there is a more subtle interpretation, widely held:
You must die before death to find freedom and happiness. You must play dead.
How do you play dead? And what do you gain by it? If you love, you play dead. You become so absorbed in the beloved you do not exist any more. There is no self, no feeling of a separate being. Also, if you are absorbed in a task, you play dead. If you rush into battle to defend your country, your principles, you are playing with death and you may really die, too. If you contemplate greatness, you are dead to yourself. You are lifted outside yourself.
Are you a bird in a golden cage? When you forge yourself, you become free. You may become happy. Why? Because you have become a living part of the great pulsating creation.
This is the stirring symbol of the CROSS: Where your little self is nailed to the cross and dies, your larger, wider self comes to life.
