Winter is officially over today. A season that will indelibly mark my timeline. A season that I won’t soon forget. One of auspicious beginnings (Asplundh) and devastating endings (barn fire). And all the while, glowing eyes in my peripherals. Coyote dances. Br’er Rabbit laughs. Dionysus drunkenly blurs from form to form. The Tricksters are the most enigmatic characters in human lore. At once reviled and again revered. They, among all the gods and heroes, wielded the power to transgress normative social boundaries in order to expose the underlying truths. Sewing chaos and discord, their lesson are the most profound because they are never simply given. In every case, those lessons are earned in pain suffering blood. I recently heard how Loki, the Norse Trickster, was able to fool even Odin at times, and how in every case, those fooled were better off for it. I was not fooled in order to learn my lessons, but the price was certainly dear. There was no trickery that morning. Nothing but wind, snow and a power surge. There was, perhaps, some level of Cosmic Trickery in getting me to quit my last job as a carpet cleaner. When I put in my notice, I thought that I was heading back into “the Trades.” Not into a whole new line of work. A whole new thought process.
Only slightly earlier than the new job, and before winter, if anyone is counting, I dropped out of the activist community. Rather, my tongue got me unceremoniously attacked, slandered and effectively banished, by a mouthy overzealous and overly judgmental vocal minority. That said, I brought it upon myself by saying things that were sure to get a rise out of those same people, even if I didn’t intentionally set out to get that rise out of them. But rise they did. And this was probably the beginning of my latest transformation. I left the Action Medical Community, something which I was part of for almost 20 years. It was my guiding principal for a large portion of those years. It defined me.
Just like Public safety and the Fire Service/EMS defined the first 10 years that I was in Conneaut. Having lost the, once, familiar mooring of that community, I was able to free my mind of the constraints of those same moorings. It gave me the space to transform myself. Then too, leaving the carpet cleaning business allowed me the space and time to reimagine myself as something other than a hammer swinger. It afforded me the room to become a tree trimmer. Just exactly what will come of the barn fire remains to be seen, but I am open to what comes. Whatever shape shifting that is necessary will be welcomed, in spite of the attendant unpleasantness.
It is this shape-shifting that is the hallmark of the Trickster Gods. The ability to transform themselves into whatever character is most pertinent and effective for getting themselves (or others) out of the situation that they have found themselves in. It is in this reimagining of self that the lessons are born; that true growth occurs.