Last night I went to the theatre and saw the last of the
Hunger Games, and I could not help but reflect on its story. I revere Suzanne
Collins for her work; cunning, strategizing, empathetic, reflective and
sympathetic to our experience. She gave words and a story to our time; to my
time: A flawless rendition of our acts towards each other, our triumphs and our
follies of today. But I digress (and rightfully so.) It moved me many times to
tears as I saw the districts oppressed, and the people who had been given the
precious gift of leadership abuse it, directing its power and influence from
their shadows which had consumed them, not to build up a community, but to tear
one down in vengeance. I asked myself how many of them had to suffer on one
side or the other, so that a few may rise above the rest? Perhaps you cannot
see the districts in your own life because they are across the Atlantic, or
south beyond a vast desert that you don't care to visit. After all, isn't life
much more exciting in the Capitol; so much to do and see, why bother with
thousands of kilometers of sand and dust? Although I am at times as guilty as
any, I also see the faces of refugees from the other districts and listen to
their tales: Iranians who want the freedom to be able to worship without
threat, Iraqi families who want safety from the bombs that rained upon them,
Afghan parents who want their children to sleep in a bed away from the rubble
we gave them, the tax of the Capitol on their district. Rebels and innocent
alike have paid and will continue to pay the oil tax for the Capitol; some give
their lives, and others their souls, driven to hatred and anger.
As irresponsible as children, too smart for their own good,
lacking the temperance of wisdom to know the cost the districts pay to support
the Capitol, is too high. They want what they want. Never realizing that the
gift of Leadership is always a two-edged sword: On one blade is the power of
authority, the other responsibility. The greater the authority, the sharper the
responsibility.
I see their faces, the refugees from foreign places, they
are the ones who ultimately pay the price so that we may maintain our high-rise
societies and our suburban communities intended to shelter and protect us from
the forces of nature that in truth dwell within ourselves. To what end? We
subjugate, betray and bleed others to protect us from ourselves. So the lesson
of Wolf is complicated and nuanced.
Before we can lead we must be balanced. We must weigh the
price of progress against the true cost of blood and if we would not bleed
ourselves for the cause, to force another is to negate all benefit. A sacrifice
must be willing and for the greater good. Wielding authority and responsibility
is effective only in balance, but in fear and anger, responsibility will run us
through, and doing nothing invites authority to open the stream of blood. The
path to balancing our light and shadow sides is compassion.
Only when we teach ourselves compassion and are gifted with
the sword of Leadership, can we wield it with either edge to build communities
instead of tearing down. And in building up others, we build our selves.
This is the message of Father Wolf. He used a powerful
dream, coupled with Suzanne Collins's powerful words to teach the nuances of
leadership, their potential benefits, pitfalls and responsibilities. All that
we choose is an action with some reaction; thoughts and deeds rippling through
space and time. The ripples carry our names into the eternities, and if we
watch very carefully, with balanced authority and responsibility, we can make
ripples that change our world [and beyond] for the better. This is the teaching
of Wolf Spirit, and of Leadership. Perhaps I am beginning to hear the calling of
my soul… I will remain unattached, but will heed it’s voice if it beckons me to
continue down the path.
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