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SWAN LAKE MAGIC - Anne Maria Clarke @ the Ballet

12/30/2016

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SWAN LAKE MAGIC Anne Maria Clarke @ the Ballet

We are separated from the divine – the transcendental - the bridge, so the ancients said, which we may build over this abyss of separation is constructed by our passionate longing for the greater and by the passionate longing of the greater for in us – this is the fundamental reason, the fundamental background for all the great love stories – all the great lyrical Romeo and Juliet type myths of the world. That there are two, ourselves and the ineffable greatness from which we have come – who are longing for each other with a desperate, painful, suffering passion. And we have within us that vestige of memory – of what it was – what it felt like – what it can be.
Stephen Hollier: The Creative Imagination
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It is practically impossible to imagine the story of Swan Lake without  seeing the ballet in one's minds eye and without also recollecting Tchaikovsky's heart rendingly passionate music, specially commissioned by the Bolshoi Ballet for their groundbreaking 1877 Moscow production.

Thereafter it seemed that Swan Lake defined the Bolshoi – becoming its great signature piece and in time it has almost come to define the genre of classical ballet itself. It is certainly the most well known and perhaps the most well loved. Who then can now unpick the parts and is it even useful to do so? Far better it seems to accept their inseparability - the alchemy of their union.

When a particular retelling of a story grips the collective imagination – when it can stand to be endlessly told and retold – we can be sure it touches upon something profound. Swan Lake might have had its stars over the years, prima ballerina's like Anna Pavlova – and legendary pairings like Margot Fonteyn and Rudolf Nureyev who have inhabited the story, and perhaps even claimed it for a while – yet Swan Lake the myth is bigger than any flesh and blood star that pirouettes across its worldly stage – bigger than any inspired choreographer – any ballet company - even the Bolshoi.


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So let us then make haste to the theatre and take our seats before the house lights dim down low and the great enchantment begins. The conductor clears his throat and waves his baton imperiously. Tchaikovsky's iconic music strikes up! Hold on to your seats and hearts for that matter - for you are about to be transported to the very heart of myth. The music swells to a peak then fades - only to rise again, sweeping our emotions along with it - Tchaikovsky is setting the scene, the tone, a foreshadowing of what is to come and in so doing he powerfully brings about the suspension of our collective dis-belief before ever the heavy red velvet drapes draw back and the first dancers appear on the stage.

The Prologue 

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Long before our tale begins, Odette a beautiful princess, has fallen under the spell of von Rothbart, a wicked sorcerer and must live as a swan by day and girl by night, during which time she is imprisoned in a dark tower. The spell that binds her can only be broken by a man who has never loved before and who will vow to love her forever.  Odette represents everything that is pure and simple and lovely - yet is possessed of such niavety that it seems unlikely  she will ever find her way free from the wicked curse that entraps her - yet still she hopes. 

Act One - the Grand Hall

At last the curtains part to reveal Prince Siegfried's 21st birhday celebrationin the Grand Hall of the palace where his mother the Queen tells him he must choose a bride at a ball to be held in his honour the following evening - yet the Prince is over-awed and loath to marry for duty alone. He makes his excuses and withdraws to the forest on a moonlit hunting expedition with his friends.

Act two - the lovers meet

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This is where the drama really begins - for it is here, deep in the wood beside a shimmering lake that we are introduced to the lovely Odette with whom Seigfried falls instantly and hopelessly in love - but wait: I run ahead, let me tell it from the start - for Seigfried first encounters her as a magnificent swan in full flight coming into land over the lake.

He takes aim with his bow but as he does so she alights at the waters edge and magically transforms into the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. Amazed, he steps forward  to greet her and at first she is startled but he gently reassures her and begs her tell him of the marvel he has just witnessed. Odette then tells him of her royal origins and of the terrible spell that entraps her unless she can find a suiter whereupon Siegfried pledges his undying alliegence and implores her to attend the great ball where he is to choose a wife next day. Odette promises to find a way to escape her tower and together they dance falling more and more in love with every passing moment.


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But as you might imagine in stories of this sort - all does not go well for the new lovers - for the sorcerer's wicked daughter Odile secretly comes to know of their plans. She sets her own sights on the eligible Prince and begs her father to give her the outward appearence of Odette so that she might take her place at the ball.

And so the theft, the wicked illusion is concocted - and very soon - for the dark magic is strong - it is as if the socerer's daughter is hersef the beautiful princess - and the only reason we the audience will know who is who - for the two parts are very often played by the same dancer - is that Odile - when next we encounter her will be completely robed in black.

And so the curtain falls - the house lights return and exhausted yet full of anticipation as to what may now occur we withdraw to the theatre foyer to briefly collect our wits.

Act three - the arrival of the Black Swan

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Trumpets herald the commencement of the Grand Ball. Siegfried struts about on tenterhooks – unsure if his beloved will appear. The Great Hall is full of lovely girls all willing and eager to catch his eye – and his mother is keen for him to choose - but Siegfried has only one girl in his heart. Trumpets sound again - his heart leaps. The ballroom doors swing open and Von Rothbart appears, swathed in black, with the girl of the Prince's dreams on his arm – or so he is led to believe.

Everyone stops in their tracks to admire Odile for she is truely magnificent.  Seifired bows down low to greet her and together they take to the floor.


Oblivious of the deception he is utterly enthralled and before he can check himself and come to his senses - he promises his undying love to the dark imposter and announces his intention to marry her to the enitire court.


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What we see here – writ large so to speak – is the gullibility of men who fall prey to the seductive charms of the negative anima – to use Jung's term – an aspect of the feminine psyche – deviod of all warmth and sensitivity - embodied in classical myth as the Siren. So dangerously attractive are these creatures that sailors who pass by the island where they dwell must be chained to the ships masts and have their ears stuffed with wax to prevent them surcoming to their deadly charms.

Such is
the nature of the imposter here. Her dance is sassy and powerfully accomplished – incorporating as it does the impressive 30 turn finale – a feat for any ballerina - and what man could resist -  but then the Prince looks into her eyes and then suddenly he knows – what we already know - a coldness strikes his heart – but it is much, much too late.

The music swells and swells again - and we too are held captive. 

Odile dances on without care or kind thought, overshadowing all.


She is utterly triumphant.


The lights dim – the scene is at an end – save for the silouette at the window of a weeping Odette who has somehow escaped her tower in order to warn of the deception.


Fairytales, myths and legends do not just concern ' the light' but very much the darker aspects of the self - the shadow and the struggles one has with it and we are not always led to the condition of happily ever after - although in a full rendition of a tale in this genre - the promise or hope of redemption is never completely dashed.

And so it is with Swan Lake.

But first - there are dark forces to contend with - for our storybook characters - yet sometimes also for the dancers themselves, the choreographers and those involved in such productions. There is something so powerful about Swan Lake you see - that even in it's re-enactment - one may become caught up so to speak - or even overshadowed by the archetypes at play in a way which can mirror the themes within the story.

For the prima ballerina - who must often play both white and black swan - the idea that they are really one and the same struggling for ascendency within the self is at the root of the tale and brilliantly portrayed in the 2010 film Black Swan - where the story, the myth, the fairtytale darkly bleeds through into the everyday taking hold of those who seek to tell it. 

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Pondering these themes one finds resonances with the dark fairytale of The Red Shoes - where there is great beauty it seems there is great shadow too – and each of these ballets express this most powerfully. There is a flavour of the myth of Icarus  here too – of he who flies too close to the sun and scorches his beautiful wings.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes, in her classic book Women who Run with the Wolves
elucidates and develops these themes in her own dramatic re-telling of the Red Shoes and in so doing hints at the nature of the powerful archetypes at play.

At the dark end of the spectrum of passion there is a kind of madness - where desire overtakes or is indeed overtaken by the drive for that which is sought or what itself seeks to be expressed. Here the road to psychosis lies - where one becomes over-identified with the archetype and can no longer step back - like the girl in the Red Shoes -  who at first just longs for the pretty new things – but soon her longing mutates into an addition, as Estes makes clear – then the girl is no longer just dancing but is rather being danced in an incredibly heartless and inhuman way that if not checked by some miraculous intervention - will lead without doubt to her death.

The problem illuminated here - the trap if you like – of which we may all fall victim - is greatly exacerbated by this over -identification - the temptation to claim the genius as one's own - as part of one's worldly self. Then we may become inflated. The ancient Greeks called it hubris and it is a dangerous affliction indeed  -  for then instead of ecstasy - there is agony - instead of transcendence - there is psychic collapse and instead of becoming one of God's Athletes - as the ballet dancer first innocently dreams  - she is danced to death by the devil.

Humility is the safe guard in such matters of course as is the ritualistic necessity of stepping down and out of role - of grounding oneself and returning to the everyday. The house lights need to come on so to speak - for dancers and audiences alike - for the magic spell must be intermittently broken lest we forget ourselves in the worldly realm.


Act Four - The Lakeside

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A great storm rages. Siegfried, bursting into the glade, finds Odette and begs for her forgiveness. She tells him she must kill herself, or she will forever be a swan. Siegfried, understanding that his destiny is forever changed, declares he will die with her, thus breaking von Rothbart’s power over her.

As dawn approaches, von Rothbart appears. The lovers respond to his threat by throwing themselves into the lake. At last Von Rothbart is vanquished and his power ended.


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The Apotheosis - the lovers are reunited in death

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 Of the Apotheosis Joseph Campbell has said ......after ones foe has finally been defeated the hero and heroine experience a great expansion of consciousness.
Those who know, that what they and all things really are - is the Everlasting - dwell in the groves of the wish fulfilling trees, drink the brew of immortality, and listen everywhere to the unheard music of eternal concord.
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I have a beautiful friend (pictured here) who many moons ago was a ballerina with the English National Ballet. Through her own choice she left the ballet world completely even though she could have easily stayed on.
She has never looked back – nor attended a single performance since and has had a whole new career or incarnation if you like as an aqupuncturist far away from the bright lights.

Through her I have come to understand much about this very particular art that I could never otherwise have known. She has taken me behind the scenes as it were and allowed me to see some of the pain and sometimes some of the heartlessness that can reside there – but one day – thankfully – in her mid twenties something inside her decided to shatter the enchantment, the spell of that which held her and in so doing she experienced her own kind of apotheosis - the death of what was – the indentured self if you like – and the rebirth of someone entirely new and entirely free.


Yet though she said her goodbyes, hung up her blood stained dancing shoes and placed her feet fully and comfortably on the earth – she will never forget the peaks – the highs – the soaring practically out of this world - that maybe – in ballet at least – cannot be attained in any other way.


The artist takes a risk – like the shaman - she must come close to the edge one might say – of what may be reasonably endured – physically – emotionally – mentally and spiritually. YET - if one is to touch what is sublime – one must allow oneself to be touched by the associated archetypes and all the dangers and perils inherent in doing so. In order to live more fully – in order to glimpse what maybe once the mystics glimpsed – the cost is high - but not to understand why these things might happen or why they might seem justified - like the only thing to do – is to profoundly misunderstand our collective yearning for that which transcends the seeming blandness and even futility of life lived too safely.


Through the power of its core myth, the genius of Tchaikovsky's music and the sheer beauty of the ballet and it's dancers we are vicariously transported, swept away in the moment – in utter suspension of disbelief - to a place within ourselves where we too experience the apotheosis that redeems the tragic tale and we too are lifted up and out of the illusion of our third dimensional everyday existence to glimpse – to touch – to feel - the promise of the beyond.

I must admit to being personally taken aback by my own responses to the production I attended recently by the Russian State Ballet – tears - uncontrollable tears streamed unbidden down my face during the finale and continued even after the curtain came down and the house lights came on.

Thank God for the theatre!
And thank God for all those brave souls who tread its boards!
Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!

Anne Maria Clarke

x x x


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references:
Joseph Campbell – The Hero with a Thousand Faces
Clarissa Pinkola Estes – Women who run with the Wolves


Subscribe to Anne Maria Clarke's YouTube channel
http://www.youtube.com/c/annemariaclarke

More fairy-stories, myths & legends by
Anne Maria Clarke 

​http://www.archivepublishing.co.uk
​
www.annemariaclarke.net

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PIPER at the GATES of DAWN - read by Anne Maria Clarke - from Kenneth Grahame's classic - WIND in the WILLOWS

12/21/2016

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read by Anne Maria Clarke audio production David Johnson

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 The darkest and shortest days of winter are upon us once again - the farthest we ever get from mid-summer and the Solstice at the other end of the year, when the sun appears so early and departs late at night. I have always associated the Piper at the Gates of Dawn with this time of year - when nature is in it's fullest, lushest, scented bloom as the author so evocatively describes - so it somehow seems fitting, as the Winter Solstice heralds the return of the light, that we curl up around the fire, much as our ancient ancestors might have done - and re -call the high summer.

With this in mind and to celebrate this Winter Solstice we decided to record a chapter from Kenneth Grahame's classic Wind in the Willows remembered so fondly from our childhoods - which although not from the collective lore of Wonder Tales as such, draws so deeply and sweetly upon it that, as with all good tales it succeeds in returning us simultaneously to both the innocence of childhood and to the threshold of the mythological and numinous.

It was read to me recently on a course I was attending and I found it utterly enchanting. I read it to my husband on his birthday this year which he adored almost as much as I had adored it being read to me.

This chapter  The
Piper at the Gates of Dawn has sadly been abridged from many children's versions in spite of the fact that the author himself regarded it as quite central. It has certainly been the inspiration for countless other artists over the years who have paid it rightful homage in their derivative outpourings. We are privileged in its retelling to bow down low to it too. 

Solstice Greetings


much love

Anne Maria Clarke


x x x

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More fairy-stories, myths & legends by
Anne Maria Clarke 

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When Tinker Bell Lay Dying - Anne Maria Clarke   Cautionary Tales: The Highs & Lows of the Festive Season

12/14/2016

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When Tinker Bell Lay Dying 
Cautionary Tales - The Highs & Lows of the Festive Season
Anne Maria Clarke

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Last year on Christmas Eve I uploaded a little piece entitled
I Believe in Fairies
- the charming  phrase from Peter Pan that children cry out all over the country at Christmas performances of the J M Barrie classic. This year I want to reference the phrase again - in a slightly different way - as a means of gaining some insight into the emotional complexities of the festive season and to explore some of what can go wrong for us at our eagerly awaited family gatherings.

I attended such a party over the weekend and it has caused me to ponder. This morning I woke with the image of Tinker Bell on my mind - you know the part where she gets into an awful fix over Wendy - fearing Peter loves her more than her - and in a fit of jealousy she betrays him to Captain Hook who tricks and tries to poison him - but then Tink realises what she has done and in order to save him - she drinks the poison herself and practically dies - and she surely would have died were it not for the kindly and timely intervention of the audience ..... phew!!! That's a lot to say all in one breath.

Christmas can be the most magical time of the year - a time for decorating our homes with masses of festive twinkling lights - buying and wrapping gifts, preparing sumptuous feasts for family and friends and dressing up in our very best party clothes.

Honoured guests arrive on the big day. There are hugs and kisses and greetings - sparkling wine is served - gifts are exchanged - the fire glows - the music plays, hearts are open and full of seasonal expectation of all the loveliness to come.

But!

Oh no - does there have to be a
but I hear you sigh ...even though I know you know it is often how it goes. The hours pass - the magic slips away - hearts close up a little - to protect themselves - as the familiar and yet utterly unconscious family patterns somehow creep in, uninvited from the shadows.

We each have our own historical woundings don't we, sore spots, long scabbed over but which can very easily get poked and prodded at such times. Then they can begin to bleed again - as if it were all just yesterday and before we know it our own lovely light just like Tinker Bell's,  begins to fade -  then - instead of holding onto our own adult selves, we are plunged into the morphic field of the past and completely over - shadowed by the same energy sapping poison that sucked the life force out of us long, long ago. Then the scene around us turns to black and white as every drop of colour is drained away.

We all have our own internal Hook's to reckon with so to speak that trip us up and bring us down and yet in many ways we are the same - all able for example to understand Tinker Bell and the trouble she gets into over Peter and her near fatal attempts to put things right.


One universal theme - is about not having felt fully seen and heard as a child. Somehow our parents, bless them - failed to attune to our own unique vibrational frequency which left us feeling somehow 'out in the cold.' 

When there is
good enough parenting to use Winnicott's term, the baby is held sufficiently securely so that the process of en -soulment can occur - meaning simply that the parental environment is experienced as good enough for the soul to risk entering in. But this does not mean it is perfect - parents are only human afterall - which is why even when things have been good enough - we can still be terribly hurt. 

This of course is a bit like what happens to Tinker Bell - even though it is clear to see - from our point of view in the audience - that she is actually full of light - as all children are in a way - before they are wounded and that part of the self is put away - either for good - where there has been severe trauma or temporarily - where the inner child is still accessible and amenable to being drawn out again where there is kindness and empathy.

A few months ago I heard a lecture given by Sharon Martin at the Jung Society of Atlanta entitled the
Archetype of the Inner Child. By way of setting the scene she told a story about a young family whose 3 year old daughter had asked them - shortly after their return home from hospital with her new baby brother if she might be allowed to spend some time alone with him. Slightly reluctantly yet not wishing to upset their daughter at such a delicate time they agreed - knowing of course that they had an intercom system installed which would allow them to observe and intervene swiftly if necessary. The young child entered the room - the parents held their collective breath as she walked over to the crib and peered in.

"Tell me about Heaven?' she whispered simply.

'I've almost forgotten!' 

When I wrote the piece about Peter Pan last Christmas - it was inspired by a dear departed friend who always remembered and honoured this part of the self - this magical, innocent, light filled inner child that resides within us all. As a girl she had been taken up to London every year to Peter Pan and every year - when Tinker Bell lay dying she would stamp her feet and clap her hands as requested and cry out as loud as she could:


I Believe in Fairies! I Believe in Fairies! 

It was her favourite part - for she knew well from the story that this was the only possible way to bring Tinker Bell back to life - and somehow she managed to carry this gem with her through to adulthood and into her ordinary life where she demonstrated the most uncanny knack of being able to see right through all our muddles and imperfections to the magical child within us all and in so doing she raised us up and out of the grip of the various family poisons we might have ingested and gave us courage to carry on.

We all need people in our lives like my friend - our own personal audience if you like - even if it is composed of only one other person - someone who resides beyond the sway of the afflicted pattern or at least is not swamped by it - someone who remembers, affirms and attunes to our own unique  light.

But in the end and in order to grow up fully we need more than a helpful audience - we need to move beyond the realm of the infant child altogether.

There is a very real sense in which we all come from heaven - and in falling to earth we must inevitably make the difficult transition from innocence to experience. We must put away childish things as the bible says - and come fully into the third dimension - but this does not imply that the divine child within has to die. Far from it!

We must stand alone as it were - knowing our seprateness and yet always remembering our eternal home.


Then all our Tinker Bells can come back to life again - we can dust ourselves down and start afresh, strengthened and transformed not weakened or diminished by our tricky ordeals -  then all can proceed toward a happy ending and a good enough Merry Christmas after all.

much love

Anne Maria Clarke

x x x



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In memory of Jane Riddles

Reference:
The Archetype of the Inner Child - Sharon Martin
https://youtu.be/jRZ9s-RNbFc

Subscribe to Anne Maria Clarke's YouTube channel
http://www.youtube.com/c/annemariaclarke

More fairy-stories, myths & legends by
Anne Maria Clarke 

​http://www.archivepublishing.co.uk
​
www.annemariaclarke.net

4 Comments



    Anne Maria Clarke is a storyteller, writer, & teacher of myths, legends & fairy - stories.

    https://twitter.com/MariaClarke
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