Here
King and Queen are lying dead
In
great distress the soul is sped
Emerging from the dark interior of
the Gale house, Dorothy and Toto enter a rainbow-colored, garden world.
Surrounded by flowers of huge proportion, a speechless Dorothy takes in the
wonder of hollyhock and bird of paradise reaching tall while lotus float in
pooled waters. She finally recovers enough to address Toto and make a
simple statement of the obvious. Over the decades Dorothy’s seemingly trite
statement has achieved chestnut-status. But the Kansas girl’s comment is not so
much a cliché; instead, like an actual chestnut, her observation holds a glistening
treasure inside a thorny burr.
“Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore” is now a classic phrase used
beyond America’s borders. Spoken in later movies or in everyday conversation
this statement needs no further explanation. An unknown territory replaces the
familiar. No longer stable and unchangeable, life breaks open. Perception of
the surrounding world as thorn-filled and painful dies. Underneath the thorny
exterior resides a wondrous world, a world birthed into being through a radical
shift in perception.
While the motif of death and rebirth
provides a foundation in Eastern religions and teachings, similar teachings
often took a back seat in the West. However, the idea of death leading to
rebirth found a home in ancient Egypt and grounded the Greek/Roman Empire’s
Eleusinian mysteries. The ancient philosophy continued in the Byzantine world.
Through Arabic and Muslim influence, Western Europe rediscovered its roots and
by the time of the Renaissance the pattern of death and rebirth became a
keystone for European alchemy.
The caption accompanying the sixth
Rosarium woodcut clearly refers to a death while the birth of a new creature
dominates the accompanying image. Alchemy expert Adam McLean focuses on the
image’s hermaphrodite as now a two-headed body replaces the two separate bodies
depicted in previous woodcuts. The dual-crowned figure represents a “primal
fusion” [1]
as the masculine and feminine forces exchange energies. While other alchemical
depictions show such a union as producing a third, separate being, the Rosarium
depicts the hermaphrodite, indicating the process remains within the internal
confines of the single seeker.
McLean provides an extensive
commentary on the Rosarium text and his 4-tiered series of 20 woodcuts. And his
extensive alchemy website offers colored-renderings of the original 16th
century images. McLean’s coloration depicts the separate figures in woodcut 2
in red and white robes[2].
An 18th century Rosarium text notes this coloration as the
alchemical journey progresses. “The red ferment hath married a white wife, and
in their conjunction the wife being great with child, hath brought forth a son
which in all things hath preserved his Parents, and is more bright and
glorious.”[3]
The Rosarium imagery differs from the text, however, and depicts this
newly-born creature is not a child but the hermaphrodite.
However, in McLean’s
color-renderings, the one-bodied figure takes on a neutral skin tone, never
fusing red and white to match the fusion of the inner process. Yet it is that
very fusion that first seizes Dorothy’s attention upon entering her new-world.
Coming in from right field, a huge pink ball stops before the astonished girl
and morphs into a woman of regal bearing. Holding a star-capped scepter, the
woman offers no introduction or greeting. However, she gives off a benign
disposition as she attempts to clear up her own ‘muddled’ state and gently
questions the equally confused girl.
The woman, garbed in a star-studded
dress, finally shares her name and title – ‘Glinda, the witch of the North’.
Despite the earlier fright from seeing a witch fly past her tornado-staged
window, Dorothy now stands in utter amazement as she faces a beautiful witch.
Dorothy’s new worldview is nurtured as her preconceived, provincial notion that
only there are only ugly witches dies.
The death motif of Dorothy’s
world-views and notions is as symbolic as that found in the famed Osiris myth
or in the imagery of the Rosarium woodcuts. This death is not a definitive end.
Unlike Plato’s myth of Er and the Eleusinian deaths, Jung believed this
alchemical version, “is not death as a last judgment or other initiatory trial
of strength; it is a journey of release, renunciation, and atonement.”
Furthermore, Jung believes this freedom-bearing death is “presided over
and fostered by some spirit of compassion. This spirit is more often
represented by a ‘mistress’ rather than a ‘master’”.[4]
Clearly star-studded Glinda
represents Dorothy’s ‘mistress’ deserving of the small curtsy the girl offers
her upon formal introduction. A compassionate Glinda patiently answers
Dorothy’s questions and identifies her new surroundings. Calling out the
Munchkins, the little people inhabiting Dorothy’s new world, Glinda then gently
leads the displaced Kansas girl around a bridged-pool to a small dais.
Dorothy, however, feels a need to
clarify Glinda’s interpretation of the girl’s arrival in Munchkinland and the
miraculous killing of the ruling witch. Joining Glinda under a
sunflower-umbrella, the Kansas girl recounts the events of the movie’s previous
scene. Putting the tale to song, Dorothy leads a call and response tune as the
Munchkins answer. Filled with rhymes, repetition and a simple melody, the
catchy tune matches the movie’s simple dialogue in ease of remembrance.
Song, like imagery, resides in the
right hemisphere of the brain. In a simplified filing of brain activity, the
right hemisphere is also most often linked with memory. Likewise repetition
enhances memory. Is there possibly more to these first few moments in
Munchkinland than Dorothy’s introduction to a new world? Could all this
memory-stimuli provide more than mere entertainment for movie-goers?
Memory has been the subject of
philosophers since its earliest days. Plato presents two realms of memory
through the teachings of Socrates. While Socrates berates the educational
system of his day and accuses it of leaning too heavily on rote-memorization,
he endorsed the development of an innate memory. Equating this inner trait with
knowledge, it can be argued that Socrates referred to this memory-knowledge
when uttering his famous dictum “Know thyself”. Full knowledge of one’s nature,
however, comes at the end of a process and taps into a memory far beyond the
conventional ability to recall facts, names and dates. Yet like all processes,
the initial phase must first be tackled as ‘it’s always best to start at the
beginning.’
Dorothy displays this early ability
to remember as she sings her way through a detailing of her tornado episode.
The Munchkin populace, content with Dorothy’s story as proof of her merit,
present a small bouquet of flowers to the girl. Quickly burying her nose into the
bouquet, the ‘national heroine’ takes the shortest of carriage rides. The
carriage, pulled by two frisky ponies, stops before a seven-stair podium where
trumpets herald the arrival of a small contingent of Munchkins.
The befuddled heroine now faces Munchkinland
dignitaries intent on verifying the validity of her story. Deciding whether the
ruling witch of their land is “Morally, ethically/ Spiritually, physically/
Positively, absolutely/ Undeniably and reliably/ Dead!” the dignitaries rest
with the coroner’s verdict. With the absolute confirmation of the witch’s death
the Munchkins are proclaimed free.
Such emphasis on the death of the
Munchkinland ruler reflects a similar significance found in the caption of the
correlating Rosarium woodcut. Although some ambiguity may arise when viewing
the Rosarium’s sixth image, the first line of the attached caption is clear -
the separate king and queen are dead. Yet in the caption’s next line,
obscurity, the bread and butter of alchemy, once again reigns.
In a current-day interpretation of
the caption’s second line, “In distress the soul is sped”, no concurrence to
Dorothy’s story appears. Although confused by her sudden arrival in this
wondrous land and equally befuddled by her rise in honor, Dorothy is far from
being distressed or troubled. As for the soul being sped, where is that in
accordance to Dorothy’s tale? How is the soul speeding along? Where is it
speeding?
In the quest’s advice of starting at
the beginning, sometimes a return to a word’s origin provides a reliable
clue. ‘Distress’ comes from the Latin districtus, meaning ‘divided
in mind’ – a defining state in the early Rosarium depictions. And as the
Rosarium captions hail from the 16th century, archaic definitions
also lend clarity. The archaic sped implies “to prosper; to succeed”. So
although the soul still retains a divided mind, it has succeeded in birthing a
new creature, “more bright and glorious.”
As for Dorothy’s tale, in comparison
to the inattention she received in Kansas, the young girl has indeed prospered
in this new land. Ascending to national heroine status, Dorothy’s prospects for
a rosy future flourishes. Prosperity, once the sole domain of Miss Gulch back
in Kansas, is now presented to the girl.
Cheering and heralding their new
liberator, Munchkins dance with joy. The camera focus spins away from Dorothy
to follow the parade. Climbing stairs, the procession passes a huge nest filled
with baby-clothed Munchkins. As the sleepy-eyed creatures stretch and yawn from
their broken egg-shell encasements, the image of new birth strongly takes hold.
Along with new-born Munchkins,
Dorothy’s new world includes another cross- cultural symbol of birth – the
lotus. In both the perennial philosophies of ancient Egypt and Hindu religion,
the lotus symbolizes reincarnation. Just as the simple flower shrinks at day’s
closure only to re-open when the sun next rises, so is the human cycle of death
and rebirth.
Yet the Munchkinland pool
holds three stages of the lotus - a single-flowered blossom, a pad of few
petals and a large pad with hundreds of petals. Size of the lotus symbolizes
spiritual progress in yet another strain of perennial philosophy. In Mahayana
Buddhism a lotus bud implies potential, an eight-petal lotus suggests cosmic
harmony and a thousand-petal lotus indicates spiritual illumination.
Although the Munchkinland pool holds
all three sizes of the symbolic flower, translation of the correlating Rosarium
image helps decipher which phase of the process this land represents. In Jung’s
studies the initial appearance of a hermaphrodite figure did not indicate the
process over but that it was just beginning. If Dorothy’s story correlates
precisely with the Rosarium series, Munchkinland does not represent attainment
of cosmic harmony or spiritual illumination but only the potential for
evolutionary gains.
Unlike the previous Rosarium image
the royal couple resides now in encased waters. A four-sided sepulcher replaces
the six-sided version found in the series’ fourth woodcut. Although many
theories can be formulated as to the sepulcher’s new design it appears that the
conscious realm, that which produces boundaries, is once again present. The
previously unbounded realm now sports a boundary to contain the dark Mercury.
Whether this boundary change indicates a conscious realm stepping up and
accepting the task of containing the strong urgings of the unconscious is
debatable.
Deciphering metaphorical imagery is an open-ended endeavor. Belonging to the
realm of the unconscious, imagery found in alchemy, fairy tales and dreams is
not to produce definite interpretations. Instead, these images are to stimulate
memory. Imagery as a way of bringing forth deep memories is integral to this
alchemical woodcut series. Considered to be a “meditative exercise”[5]
contemplation of the Rosarium woodcuts creates a correlation with Church’s
rosary meditation. Just as reciting the rosary calls for breaks in repetitive
prayers with recollections of strong imagery from Jesus’s life, so
contemplation of the Rosarium’s repetitive yet stark imagery can also bring
forth benefits. Yet alchemy claims treasures can be found in contemplating not
simply glaring imagery but also noting common details.
Perhaps lotus blossoms floating in a
pool of pristine blue water simply presents film-making’s latest innovation,
Technicolor. Perhaps increase in movie attendance, and not clue-dropping, is
the motivational factor for such details. In the world of alchemy, however,
images stimulate memory from the unconscious. Contemplation of minute details
can bring a conscious encasement. The union of opposites is the goal of
alchemy. Initially the unconscious and conscious realms stand in opposition.
Yet the joining of the images of the unconscious with the encased- meanings
from the conscious realm provides a fine starting point of this journey toward
all-encompassing union.
Small details in conjunction with
the overall storyline, whether found in a fairy tale or in life’s story,
provide clues to the evolutionary journey. Details emerge with the retelling of
favorite stories. A first-time viewing of Dorothy’s entry into her new world
can be overwhelming. The appearance of a beautiful witch, small people hiding
behind shrubbery and the bright Technicolor surroundings virtually demand a
viewer focus on Dorothy in order to follow the plotline. But with
multiple viewings, with the plotline and songs memorized, more attention is
given to details such as lotus floating in blue waters.
As Dorothy’s movie has been viewed
more than six billion times, The Wizard of Oz has reached legendary
status. The movie’s ballad, Over the Rainbow, was voted top song of the
century in Time magazine as well as the Recording Industry Association of
America. Yet a myth cannot be influential if told only once. The story
must be entertaining enough for the request of multiple retelling. Such is the
case with the annual television broadcast of The Wizard of Oz over the
past half century. With ubiquitous recognition to the story’s enchanted lands,
fabled characters and popular song the episodic tale molds Dorothy into the
quintessential 20th century heroine.
Yet how influential is Dorothy’s story? How powerful is myth? The idea of myth
is defined quite differently in different circles. To the 21st
century layperson a myth is often simply an entertaining story with settings
and situations based in non-reality. Its larger-than-life characters,
especially, are considered purely fictional. Today’s Westerner, raised in a
culture steeped in empirical science, believes only in the validity of
non-fiction, filled with facts, statistics and dates. We are suspicious of
false tales. Without a literal base, these larger-than-life stories are ‘false’
and therefore have no legitimacy, no importance. Only a child, like Dorothy,
would believe a myth - just as the naïve girl believed the tale Professor
Marvel gave her about Auntie Em.
Yet because of Professor Marvels’
tale Dorothy reversed her course of action and began to run back to the Gale
farm. A sense of concern over her aunt’s ‘broken heart’ replaced the girl’s
earlier sense of betrayal. Would Dorothy have reversed her plans if the
professor provided only logical arguments endorsing the girl’s return to her
Kansas farm? An embellishment of the facts, a tale added to a simple photo,
changed Dorothy’s mind.
According to those who view
myth as an extremely important aspect of our lives the story is not only
enduring but influential. Anthropologist, Claude Lévi- Strauss noted myths were
stories “that operate in men’s minds without their being aware of the fact.”
Filled with symbols and not deductions, a myth can go beyond the limitations of
logic and move the listener in ways dry philosophies cannot. Myths present
worlds full of potential, achieving unimagined heights and plunging untold
depths. Image-filled myth comes closer to presenting a full mapping of the
journey than the boxed- realms depicted in the limited maps of rational reasoning.
Rarely, however, do we have access
to the original telling of a myth. After multiple retellings and translations
many changes leave a fractured story. Future generations are left piecing the
remaining parts together like a jigsaw puzzle. Subject to corruption over
time, the archaic is eliminated. Cross-culturally, details are revised to fit
the new audience. The small details that once held importance are lost or
replaced with insignificant additions.
Fortunately, Dorothy’s myth is in
its first version. Even with forty minutes of the original 1939 movie lost to
the cutting room floor, those interested in the piecing together clues find
gems within the movie’s final presentation. The creators of the movie
classic pull out all stops and fill each frame with dozens of details – too
numerous to bring each to light and find significant meaning. Besides, there is
also the sheer enjoyment of the film to consider. But some viewers like a good
mystery as well as a fine fairy tale and enjoy combining the two genres.
Over the decades, subsequent mythic
movies fill their screens with abrupt imagery as the modern hero/ine seeks
resolution. Yet many cinematic epics need more than one movie to encapsulate
such a journey. Movie sequels often depict the hero/ine in firm control of
their primary nature. Yet as they face their final challenges, great aid is
provided by figures of the opposite sex representing matured secondary traits.
Dorothy, in her fully-encapsulated
myth, has not been introduced, much less received aid from the representatives
of her secondary nature. She has much to accomplish. Yet with the euphoria upon
entering a new wondrous land complacency sometimes emerges. Why go any further
in the journey? Isn’t this new world perception enough?
Yet the new perception, if not taken
for granted but instead questioned, often leads to a newly-awakened state.
Reflected in the Munchkin’s processional song-lyrics, “Wake-up you sleepy
head,” clues emerge pointing to a newly-remembered awareness joining the newborn
perception. How this awareness affects the mythical journey unfolds as Dorothy
enters the next chapter of her Munchkinland experience.
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