Acrobatic Surrender and The Wisdom Of Non-Action
It takes a radical kind of acceptance to ward off the disorientation of suspension.
In those confusing times when the flavour and feel of a situation is vague and inscrutable, or when the abstract density of it is so thick that it is impossible for us to see or move through it, stillness allows for focus, easing us into increasingly crisp visions of our inner and outer realities.
But first, some moments and situations ask us to hold off on interpretation, to let images be images, and to allow space to exist without fixing it with definitions, plans, expectations, or actions.
We are all familiar with the crisis of being so caught up in the tangled conflict between time and circumstance that the only way to transcend our apparent powerlessness, or lack of say or control, is to become masters of the present moment.
I think of those creeping little satisfactions that reward our patience, like watching a David Lynch film, where we are dropped off at some unexpected corner between dream and waking life, suspended in a nebulous reality that is all mystery, vagueness, yet we watch and we wait and observe, without rushing to find an answer – or a solution – to the strangeness that we are witnessing. This is when mood takes over, and atmosphere, the sounds and the visuals of the space that we are called to inhabit.
Every so often we have no idea what is going on, in film or more commonly in life, and the next step not only isn't obvious, but we find ourselves unable to move, incapacitated by the humbling yet grounding fact that, sometimes, it simply isn't our turn – to do, to have, to know things, to act. That is the time to let things simmer, take root, and for us to adopt a new perspective, a new angle of seeing things: it's the sacred initiation into any creative act.
The discomfort of not knowing what comes next, mixed with the daring it takes to hang in there and find out, trains our minds to notice, taste, and experience new clues, shades, and sensations that we might have missed in our frantic search for meaning or outcome.
Stillness, as presence, illuminates the wonderful life of the mind when it is free – freed by the temporary impossibility to assert itself through action.
Going within, we connect with something primal yet luminous within us, something like an inner flame or a spark that sustains us with its rebel glow when everything around us is dim, dull fog. How subtle yet vital are these little acquaintances we make with ourselves when we take a pause from the pace, and the pattern, that we have been used to.
As Clarice Lispector observed so intuitively, it is inside ourselves that we must create someone who will understand. Self understanding comes from being able to observe without passing judgment or rushing to a conclusion; fully witnessing who we are and what we are living. From the quiet centre of the self, understanding becomes a blessing that we, like The Hanged Man archetype, are ready to extend to others.
This is what we are called to summon within ourselves, and to then share with others when we emerge from our suspension. The ability to witness, and not comment – but radiate: presence, empathy, and the wisdom that we have attained in solitude, the wisdom that is now ready for company.
Let’s leave all hesitation aside and walk through the door that the Arcanum XII opens — into a secret room inside ourselves, where timeless archetypes beat and hum their ancient tune:
The Hanged Man is a master of the present moment – he has assumed an unusual position and is not rushing, he has nowhere to be but where he is, yet he does not stall in passivity: is he waiting, or is he radically and disruptively, yet simply – being?
Get this delicious paradox: The Hanged Man is the only upended figure in the Tarot deck, but also the one with the most blessed, zen demeanour – in Pamela Smith's representation, his head radiates with a golden halo. The Hanged Man has the metaphysical calm and composure of a mystical icon, and we could easily imagine him being worshiped as a prophet or a quirky messiah in some parallel universe. He is one with the air around him, yet he shines.
His circumstance is mysterious – was he imprisoned (if yes, why, and how did he get caught?), or did he voluntarily hang himself upside down like some Odin-like divinity, hungry for knowledge and wisdom?
I sense that it is very likely both: in order to attain true wisdom we have to transgress. We go beyond the usual and established norms, standards, expectations and morals, and overstep the bounds of propriety in order to explore something far vaster, more enticing, more terrifying, more urgent.
We abandon certainty and familiarity, as it's not about comfort anymore – it's about the quest, it's about the experience, and to hell with those limits set to keep us “in our place”!
And then the question is — what is the scaffold that the necessary vulnerability of our transgression could be leading us to?
There is a potential scaffold for every transgression – whether we are transgressing against our shyness or our fears, or stepping uninvited into the territory of art, of love, of life.
When we leap, or even when we calculate, there is always a chance that we will get caught – by the demons we thought we'd tricked or by the traps we thought we'd overcome – or that we will slip into clueless awkwardness when there are no more signs to follow. We reach a pathless field, and it's on us to find out whether it's strewn with strawberries or mines. Or worse, to find that it is an empty, arid impasse.
But such is the way of living. Without a system of permitted transgressions, we remain stuck, forever searching for our spine or for something to move us.
When we transgress consciously and artfully, to then be confronted with our reality's strictures and limitations, we are transported (or dragged) into that delicate moment where, if we embrace the energy of the moment with stillness, patience, and acceptance, we have the possibility to understand, to transcend our limitations and later widen our field of action. It is a sign that we are venturing into the expansive new territories of invention.
Sooner or later, we might get caught, or we might slip and fall and fail, getting stuck in some weird place between darkness and clarity – neither here nor there – suspended mid air, mid search, mid journey. Tied up.
But just because we get tied up doesn't mean that our efforts get annihilated – our efforts got us to a certain point, and now it is time to let go of effort, and be in peace with the fact that sometimes, the most necessary form of action is non-action.
Or, as masters of form like Auguste Rodin said it – even patience is a form of action.
When we are dealing with uncertainty, or in a state of suspension, it doesn't mean that we are inefficient (although the whole concept of efficiency or “optimisation” shouldn't even be in our vocabulary for that period, if ever — efficiency and optimisation are for machines, not human beings).
It means that it is time to heed the call of the moment and deepen our awareness through simply existing as we are. For a moment, let it not be about the goal, but about the moment itself, and us within that moment. Let’s connect with that self that is free from roles and definitions, that self that exists outside of any labels or categories; that self which just is – with nothing to prove or demonstrate, and harmoniously amoral, like nature.
There is an exciting role-reversal going on with the Hanged Man – who is that divinity that maims and humbles and upends itself in order to feel and see and know deeper? Is it Someone within us?
In order to attain wisdom we have to assume powerful perspectives, and these are often reached from unusual points and positions – some of them are uncomfortable, or painful, while others might be seen as disturbing or chaotic, acrobatic, or at best – funny. Some can be humbling and even humiliating, but experiencing the world from a variety of seemingly eccentric (or ridiculous) viewpoints offers us rare and precious views into the hidden or disguised truths and un-truths of life, of people, of ourselves.
It is when we look at the world from a different physical, philosophical, emotional, financial position or state – different from the one we are accustomed to – that we delve deeper into the infinitely diverse layers that compose this wild collage of natures, ways, and beings, that is life.
Eventually, The Hanged Man's self initiated suspension/imprisonment offers a way out, a liberation – it offers a tool for transcendence – through the 13th Arcana, Death, the next step in the Tarot journey. Suspension followed by transformation — possibly into something extraordinary.
But before transcending his way into freedom, The Hanged Man presents us with another paradox we would all do well to integrate at some point (or we might be made to, by life's circumstances): authentic sacrificial spirit empowers rather than victimises.
We sacrifice a conviction of ours, or comfort, to gain or reach a new level of knowledge or trust – in ourselves, our abilities, or within a relationship – but ideally with our core integrity intact.
In fact, we are led to explore that magical feeling when it is our integrity that inspires our sacrifice – sacrifice from a place of peace and acceptance, without the anxiety of losing, nor with the obsession of obtaining – rather, creating, or allowing to happen, through the way of spiritual investment and devotion.
Sacrifice is an exchange rooted in conscious choice. To sacrifice is to make holy, and the Hanged Man, in offering himself, makes his mind – through a process of acrobatic surrender – holy. His thoughts, his visions, his experience become sacred.
Through Amor Fati—loving our fate—we offer ourselves to the ouroborosic dance of our entire life experience. We choose to love our fate, whatever has chosen or befallen us, and to sink our teeth into the pulsating flesh of life, appreciating every twitch, every spasm, every melody (or malady), every moment.
I am what I am and that is that – we can almost hear the Hanged Man whisper and vibrate in his stillness.
When we practice conscious acceptance of ourselves and of the world, we are engaged with every vein and vessel of its living texture.
There is no humanly possible movement that doesn't contain within it a pause. May we allow ourselves to rest in it, to sink our antennas into it and feel, listen, exist in that uncertainty that is free from goal, pressure, or definition.
Uncertainty, through the 12th Arcana, teaches patience, trust, surrender. This is our pause, our moment, and it wants—demands—an offering.
With all the mystery surrounding and inhabiting the Hanged Man, one thing is clear in the midst of his misty suspension: his mind is a cradle of luminous visions. His psychic container is a refined vessel where golden insights announce themselves spontaneously and intuitively: the Prisoner has connected with the gold in his shadow, and when he emerges from his sentence, he will be a lighthouse, a guide, perhaps a leader – and always a fearless auteur of his mental and spiritual experience, through making peace with the uncontrollable and the unexpected.
Amor Fati in (non) action.
