Elements of Belonging
the introduction continues (part two)
“The idea of the muse suggests that the wellspring of creative power
is a connection to something other than the self.”
~ Shaun McNiff
My first encounter with the Wheel of Wisdom left me wondering about the “key” on the face of its geometry—the trio of primary-colored triangles and the white triangle at the center.
I knew these triangles represented the physical body (red), emotional body (green), mental body (blue), and soul light (white) that comprise our human experience. What I didn’t know was how these aspects of self are a key, and what that key unlocks.
“You’ll get there. Keep going,” an inner voice had assured me.
On another chilly morning, after brewing a cup of jasmine tea, I rolled a handful of colored markers onto the dinning table, turned over a fresh sheet in my sketchbook, and drew the Wheel of Wisdom geometry once again. First, I colored in the “key” at the center, then I shaded the other nine points of the Wheel. Four sets of three. There were the three primary-colored points, plus three points between red and green, three points between green and blue, and three points between blue and red.
What’s the significance of three? I wondered. Recently, I had been musing about the archetypal nature of numbers. I’d been thinking about their fundamental frequency, the essential story that each number subtly conveys.
Now I recalled something I’d learned in an anatomy class about three and the biological formation of the human body. Once the ovum cell and sperm cell join together, it takes three weeks for a mind-boggling process of internal cell division to create an embryo that’s made up of three layers: the ectoderm (outer layer) will give rise to the outermost layer of skin, central and peripheral nervous systems, eyes, inner ears, and brain; the mesoderm (middle layer) will become the heart, circulatory system, bones, ligaments, kidneys and much of the reproductive system; and the endoderm (inner layer) will create other organs, such as the lungs and intestines.
Nature creates three fundamental layers in three weeks. “Three is a story of creation,” I exclaimed.
“Yes. Creation of all kinds,” affirmed the inner voice I now associated with the Wheel.
Our inner dialogue had resumed.
“Creativity is, quite literally, our birthright,” I said.
“Correct. Your soul’s transition into human form is much like the embryonic process. Your brilliant soul, like an ovum or a sun, divides its light into distinct rays or layers of being. Through an enormous feat of concentration, your soul works with nature to thread these strands of light into your human form, which is shaped by myriad seen and unseen forces—each one contributing to your distinct human experience.”
I wanted clarification: “Are you saying the soul weaves its light into the physical, mental, and emotional bodies, which creates what you called the key?”
“This is not solitary work. Every aspect of your reality is collaborative. Think now of the essential elements of life on this planet.”
“You mean, earth, air, water, and fire?”
“Yes. Think of these elements as your soul’s primary collaborators in creating your human form. Your physical body, like earth, seems solid and boundaried and exists in a balance of autonomy and interplay. It forms your sense of sovereignty and freedom. When your freedom is limited, what you do you feel?”
“Angry,” I thought.
“Anger and irritation are bodily responses to limitation and dishonored boundaries.”
“That feels true,” I affirmed. “Would it be correct to say the elements are archetypal energies of creation that, within our bodies, relate to archetypal feelings?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes, this is true.”
“I’m guessing you’ll say the emotional body is fluid, like water?”
“Indeed. It has the force to move mountains yet tenderly expresses the very heart of your being. When you lose your sense of connection to what matters, what do you feel?”
“Sad, I suppose.”
“Sorrow, sadness, loss—these express the heart’s longing for connection.”
I glanced at a fly buzzing and bumping against the widow and considered this for a moment. I recalled a flood of sorrow I’d recently experienced. Had it been connection that I longed for? Yes, in a way. I had felt bereft of purpose. I’d longed for more meaningful work. Now, here I was, deeply engaged with this Wheel of Wisdom and my heart once again beat with a sense of purpose.
“Precisely,” said the voice, in response to my thoughts. “When you connect with and through your heart, your purpose is self-evident.”
My heart is my purpose. This, too, felt true to me. “So my physical-self is like earth. My emotional-self is like water. Is my mental-self like air?” I guessed.
“Quite right. Your mind shifts swiftly, like currents of air. Thought is the medium through which you consciously relate to life and surmise your place in it. Although your body’s instincts use fear to keep you alive, it is your mind that drives your quest for certainty and security.”
I pondered that for a moment, then the voice added, “What happens when you think you are not safe, when you experience an uncomfortable level of doubt?”
“I feel afraid,” I said.
“Indeed. Fear and anxiety are mental responses to levels of uncertainty that exceed your current capacity to cope.”
“That makes sense,” I concluded. “What about fire?”
“Ah, fire is the element most closely aligned with that ray of soul at the center of your being. Its luminous presence animates your every cell. Unperturbed by human emotions, its unconditional love illuminates all darkness.”
This reminded me of a quality of peace I can touch when I go inside myself and become very still. I want more of that.
Then it occurred to me how little I pay attention to the elements on a day to day basis. Early cultures revered the elements as life-giving deities, ancestors, and allies. But humanity has mostly lost the sense that we are related to that which gives us life. I was beginning to understand that the “key” inside the Wheel of Wisdom is connected to these primal forces—fire, air, water, earth. Now I was inspired to find my own way to commune with them.
With this in mind, I set out for a mid-day walk through my neighborhood. As I passed quaint homes painted to accentuate their Victorian style, I tried to imagine the towering evergreens that once stood in their place. Before European settlers felled nearly all of them. How barren and lonely it must have been here before the fecundity of nature graced this place once again with a new green canopy, even as the buildings have continued to multiply.
Pausing at an asymmetrical beauty we call Douglas fir, I noted the way its roots buckled the sidewalk. Next to my foot lay one of the tree’s small cones, covered in tiny pronged tongues. I picked it up, asking its permission before I tucked it into my pocket and continued my journey. Now I looked for other nature beings who might help me connect with the elements. Meandering through roughly groomed parks and small patches of untended wildness, I noticed how the elements are subtly woven into every living thing, and I listened to what they might be telling me.
By the time I returned home, the sun was dipping toward the bay and daylight fell sideways across my living room. After emptying my pocket of its few small treasures, I cleared the round dinning table and spread out a square of yellow cloth, smoothing it flat with both hands. Then I placed the ones that would stand in for the elements:
the fir cone and a striated rock, together, represented earth;
a grey-blue tail feather represented air;
a green bowl held a small pour of water;
and a beeswax candle would carry fire.
I lit the wick and connected to a quiet sense of gratitude, asking the elements to help me understand their role in the Wheel of Wisdom. I opened my journal, inviting whomever wanted to speak to me to come through my pen. The writing soon began…
“For eons the human drama has been a story of forgetting. Believing the appearance of separateness, you imagine yourself set apart from the Whole. This is your suffering. Yet the human dream is evolving. You are awakening to your creative powers. You are remembering your belonging. You are turning the key that puts the Wheel in motion.”
Awakening to my creative powers? Remembering my belonging? Turning the key that puts the Wheel in motion? What, exactly, did this mean? This was not the familiar internal voice of the Wheel of Wisdom. The energy was palpably different. Distinctly feminine. Intuition told me I was in the presence of three.
“Who are you?” I inquired.
“We are the voice of your own longings, guiding you toward your aim.”
“Like sirens?” I said, feeling a bit lost at sea.
“Like muses,” they smiled.
My mind grasped for what I’d learned about muses. I knew they were part of the Ancient Greek pantheon. Were they goddesses? I knew artists of all sorts have courted a creative muse, with the sense that if the muse is with them, creativity flows. If not, creativity runs dry.
“You are the voice my longings? What can you tell me, dear muses?”
“We herald your belonging.”
Something told me to stop questioning. I noticed a subtle strain inside myself. So I set down my pen and closed my eyes. With each inhale, awareness settled more deeply into my body. With every exhale, internal static was released. My feet began to tingle and my hands felt unusually warm. Eventually, thought was suspended in quietude. I was held in a comforting presence that permeated me with peace. This is belonging.
In time, the muses would illuminate how belonging is different from fitting in. I would come to understand that belonging is not dependent on close family relations, or a partner, or being included in a “tribe.” Eventually, I would learn that my felt sense of belonging unlocks the creative gifts of every archetype within me. Belonging, as it turns out, reveals new dimensions of being.
On that day, I was learning to simply be in the inviting presence of these three intertwining energies. I rested there for a long while, relishing the felt sense of being with them…of being with myself: belonging.
These muses felt like abiding allies. Eventually I took up my pen and gave them a name: Muses of Belonging. They seemed to smile.