Fairy Tales

Hummingbirds still siphon the nectar even though the light is fading. I keep the feeder full, making sure they’re ready for their upcoming migratory flight.

Some say you can feed them too long, delay their trip, and put them in danger because they’re fed and content.

But I believe they know when it’s time to go.

Do we know when it’s time to go? Or I guess a better question is do we trust our instincts anymore?

Joseph Campbell once said that we are learning technology and information and not the wisdom of life. We’re unacquainted with the literature of the spirit and have little or no connection to an inner existence.

Unbeknownst to me, I began cultivating an interior life early on. As an only child of a single mom, I spent hours in my room listening to books and records and reading at an early age.

My aunt and uncle encouraged me by buying me excellent books, notably a Reader’s Digest Anthology of The World’s Best Fairy Tales, which I still treasure.

These fantastical stories stirred my imagination. I’d climb the wild cherry tree in our backyard and daydream about being one of the 12 dancing princesses or a little mermaid peering at a palace.

Bluebeard frightened the hell out of me. A nightingale made me cry. Sinbad took me on wild adventures, and Rumpelstiltskin taught me the basics of copywriting (spinning gold from straw!).

Fairy tales aren’t myths but simple stories of the human experience. They hold instruction in the passion and violence of the heart. And for a kid who spent much time alone, they were a marvelous escape to an imaginary world where anything was possible.

Nurturing an interior existence is a lifelong practice that often falls to consuming information. While I love having instant answers as much as the next person (especially my Letterboxd app!), I crave the mystery and the feeling of wonder, especially when you come upon a solution unexpectedly.

Fortunately, the enigma, the language of the spirit, remains present. Its songs are in folklore, poetry, stories, and myths.

Instead of scrolling or feasting on the news, we can digest these stories and pursue contemplative silence, surrender to not knowing, power our intuition, and listen to something calling, something unseen.

And like the hummingbirds, we’ll know when it’s time to go.