Rising up out of its own ashes, every 500 years or so, the legendary phoenix imprints us with hope. It's a cross-cultural symbol for resurrection. Turkish texts claim the phoenix bears these words on its wings:
"Neither the earth produces me, nor the heavens, but only the wings of fire."
Chinese sources say the feng-huang originates in the sun and calls up the sun every morning with its perfect five-toned melody.
Now, as many Iranians face their own "flaming challenges," and each of us rises daily out of yesterday's "ashes," the phoenix points the way to our future days that can be scented, as its own nest is said to be, with frankincense, cinnamon and myrrh. May it be so!
From Hesiod to Harry Potter, the phoenix carries hope on its flaming wings. Suddenly one has appeared as a crop circle as well.
Photo by Oliver MorelFrom Hesiod to Harry Potter, the phoenix carries hope on its flaming wings. Suddenly one has appeared as a crop circle as well.
This image appeared on the Crop Circle Connector.
Like most crop circles this one that popped up near Yatesbury, England on June 12 is rich in potential meaning. The author Michael Glickman calls these intricate field designs Crop Circles: The Bones of God.
Someone counted this bird's feathers. Twelve in each spread wing, plus one on the head makes 25. There are 16 in the tail, plus one crossed feather makes 17 more for a total of 42 feathers in the whole crop circle. Why is 42 significant? Well, for one thing, there are 42 full moons between now and December, 2012, the upcoming "Hunab Ku" date that people find fascinating for its likelihood (at least according to the Mayans) of setting us on a new "flight path."
Emily Dickinson described hope as that thing with feathers that perches in our souls. She didn't say it was the phoenix, but it might have been.
The phoenix never really dies because it leaves behind a tiny worm or chick that forms a new phoenix. If you wait long enough. Every time. Without fail.
Jerome Groopman wrote a wonderful book called The Anatomy of Hope and reminds us that hope is that elevating feeling we experience when we see clearly in our mind's eye, or visualize, a path to a better future. Clear-eyed hope is not optimism but "the courage to confront our circumstances and the capacity to surmount them." To fly, in other words. On wings of fire.
Like most crop circles this one that popped up near Yatesbury, England on June 12 is rich in potential meaning. The author Michael Glickman calls these intricate field designs Crop Circles: The Bones of God.
Someone counted this bird's feathers. Twelve in each spread wing, plus one on the head makes 25. There are 16 in the tail, plus one crossed feather makes 17 more for a total of 42 feathers in the whole crop circle. Why is 42 significant? Well, for one thing, there are 42 full moons between now and December, 2012, the upcoming "Hunab Ku" date that people find fascinating for its likelihood (at least according to the Mayans) of setting us on a new "flight path."
Emily Dickinson described hope as that thing with feathers that perches in our souls. She didn't say it was the phoenix, but it might have been.
The phoenix never really dies because it leaves behind a tiny worm or chick that forms a new phoenix. If you wait long enough. Every time. Without fail.
Jerome Groopman wrote a wonderful book called The Anatomy of Hope and reminds us that hope is that elevating feeling we experience when we see clearly in our mind's eye, or visualize, a path to a better future. Clear-eyed hope is not optimism but "the courage to confront our circumstances and the capacity to surmount them." To fly, in other words. On wings of fire.
Comments