I recently shared a picture of my granddaughter Eleanor, Princess Eleanor on Facebook (picture credit goes to my smarter and more attractive sibling, my sister Julie) and I can report with great joy that we are all in agreement: Eleanor is adorable and makes a terrific Princess.
And that got me to reflect on the magical lives of children, and how magical it is for some and not nearly as much for others, depending on their circumstances.
So I’m going to say this about tiaras, and princesses, and stuff and such, and then I’ll be done and no one needs to hear my opinion on anything else, much less tiaras, and princesses and the world in which they occupy, which is very much our world, apparently.
So, I’ve got an absolutely beautiful little granddaughter Eleanor who is now officially three plus years of age and is the most delightful human being to be around, well, you just gotta spend time with her to know what I’m talking about…though I can see her Mom, cocking her eyebrow at me as if to say, “it ain’t all a bed of roses, Grampa John”… and of course I’ll give her that because in order for Eleanor to be Eleanor, she had to have a Mom like Emalee, tolerant and loving and BS proof, and a mother to the core.
Now, Eleanor has a little sister whose name is Lucille Cornelia but like lightning hit the old pine tree in the backyard she became Lulu right out of the gates and moving forward she will be forever Lulu. Lulu is a fine example of a one year old who is full of spunk and determination and light and ferocity and tenderness and wants to put the entire world in her mouth to enjoy…so this is not to denigrate little Lulu, who we all love so dearly, but Eleanor is Eleanor, and those two will tussle until they are old and cranky and are having the same old arguments over coffee in some little café somewhere, the same old arguments that they are fostering and cultivating as I write this. Eleanor the Princess, and Lulu who can’t get enough of everything.
As far as I can tell, and this is from the far away vantage point of a grampa who has a daughter-in-law with three beautiful, loving, cacophonous sisters, at her inner circle enveloping my granddaughter (who does, may I remind some, shares some of the same dna as her grandfather), who are enveloped by a still greater group of grandmothers and grandaunts the gates of hell could not prevail against, and then my fellow grandfather, who is more of a hero than I could ever sum up for the sake of this little diatribe about princesses and tiaras and the world as it is. Needless to say, there are fewer men like him in the world than needs to be, that’s for damn sure. We are along for the ride, and happily so.
So if you picture these great, powerful, deeply entwined feminine arms surrounding princess Eleanor like this beautiful, breathing, gathering nest, that’d be pretty much it, in a nutshell. Me, I’m up in the balcony, getting to take a picture occasionally, keeping an eye out for glimpses of my princess granddaughter and being content knowing she is being loved so fiercely into form. This family, this loving, noisy, cluttered, imperfect gang of characters, is what has fostered this princess into being, happily and beautifully so…like any budding Prince or Princess, recognized right from the onset as rightful nobility. Our Princess must be treated as such, although she is still very much a child and is to be tolerated at times like only a three year old must be, when she is tantruming and behaving poorly, or unprincess-like, if you want to look at it that way.
It’s this big, pulsating, breathing nest, feathered with feminine wisdom and resilience and love which brought forth Princess Eleanor, at least that’s exactly the way she feels it and sees it, and it’s her world so there.
Eleanor brushes the sleep from her eyes every morning, sits up in bed, looks around and thinks to herself, it’s as great a day as any to throw on a tiara, and maybe a nice gown to go with it, and off she goes into her Princess world, where her mother will try and make sure she changes her undies at least and maybe a few mouthfuls of breakfast before the Princess herself must be off, she has princess things to do! In Princess Eleanor’s world, her mother is but her hand-maiden, there to remove obstacles out of her Princess’ way, to gather her Princess accouterment for her and to smooth her path for her to fully enjoy her rightful domain. Her Father, is there as a buttress in her castle, strong and pretty silent and mostly sleep-deprived, but she feels his presence everywhere, and she needs him in command, guarding the flanks of her kingdom in order to be in full possession of her princess powers. These powers wax and wane throughout the course of the day, like it does for any princess, because of food, and weather and what her entertainments are doing for her at any given moment. There is always room for more entertainment, and isn’t that what we all want for our Little Princess, to be loved and entertained and have every moment be more life-affirming and lovely than the moment before?
And this is where I try and bring this stinker of a composition back to its original intention, that of Princesses and Tiaras and the world they and we inhabit…but allow me to wax a little further…
By this point, having gazed upon Princess Eleanor’s rapturous beauty we are transfixed. All the more so because our dear sweet Princess has no idea of what the big deal is, she is just doing her, and you just keep doing you, she’s absolutely 100% fine with that. She could give a hoot what color you are, or where your folks are from, or whether you’re red or blue or crimson or indigo or any of that nonsense. She’s just going to attend to her Princess affairs, and all the best to you.
Yep. When a beautiful little girl like Eleanor puts on her tiara and grabs a gown and heads out to make the best of her day, we are all in agreement. She doesn’t need our tacit or overt approval or agreement, or anything and you enjoy your day.
So what if your child wanted to be a king, or a superhero, or even (and we of course hope not but who the hell knows) an anti-hero? What if they wake up with the same self-assured confidence that Princess Eleanor does in her far away kingdom across the street and they share the same feelings of excitement, and hope and determination? Would we not clamor with love and acknowledgement the same feelings for this child that we would for our dearest Princess Eleanor? Even if their hopes and dreams and aspirations don’t have any breathing space for our conceptions about who they are, who they love, or what they aspire to, wouldn’t we want the best for them, to stay true to themselves, to be loved and to walk through the world unmolested by people’s pettiness, the projected fears and ghosts all around them?
We wouldn’t let the vampires, and the ghouls and the evil doers out there even get within spitting distance of our lovely Princess Eleanor, we’d cast them asunder, if the grampas have anything to do with it, provided our joints could still muster up a good casting out, but hell, her Dad is a lot younger than I am, but we grampas are with you in spirit! We are all for casting out evil doers but our backs ain’t what they used to be but I again, again, as always digress…
Don’t all of Princess Eleanor’s little fellow travelers, fellow spirits, fellow souls deserve the same protection and affirmation and devotion to their sacred paths as we have committed to our lovely and oh so scrumptious Princess Eleanor so she can wear her tiara without a care in the world, because it makes her feel like a princess and that’s the least that life can do? Darn it all, having to learn how to eat with utensils, and sit on the potty, and change your underwear and go to bed when your sister does, and all the other indignities that this human flesh is heir to…Little Darling Princess Eleanor wakes up and puts her tiara on and goes about her day and that, friends, is that. She suffers the intrusions of parental guidance as we all must do, but she mustn’t be delayed. Any protracted delays and then her kingdom becomes full of tantrums and tears and a little transient sadness that she is not the Princess of All Things, just her kingdom, and that is a super important lesson for all Princes and Princesses to learn…but here I go, mired in another digression…the point beyond Princesses and tiaras and kingdoms…
All we should ask of one another, of people who are sacredly entrusted with caring for each other in a world where so much can go horribly wrong and where justice is in such short supply, is to apply to each little soul that comes our way the same acceptance and love and dignity that we give to Princess Eleanor, and all the other little transforming souls we come across. We rely on each for acceptance, and dignity and understanding. It is fundamental and it is the bedrock upon which our Princes and Princesses build their hopeful, shining lives upon. To be decent. To be understanding that this world so often is unrelenting, and punishing, and completely and utterly unfair, for everyone. We don’t know what each other are going through, this much is 100% guaranteed. It’s easy to get caught up in all the projection and fear that this world is pulling us into.
So few children have a place to become a Princess like our loving Princess Eleanor has had. So many have a completely uphill battle right from jump street to love and embrace themselves and fight for dignity when it gets denied to them by a society which wants to categorize them and belittle the outliers, the one’s that are different. So we have this sacred honor, that goes well beyond the honor of country, or political affiliation or personal preference. This sacred honor is to each other, as souls on the same temporal, uncertain path to do what we can for each other, while we can, working out our salvation in fear and trembling, as the Swedish philosopher Kierkegaard pointed out.
And then we will be good citizens, and good subjects in the lands of Princess Eleanor, and all of those who are trying valiantly to be true to themselves. Who is to say who that person is, but the soul that inhabits it, and all of us should understand that as if we are ourselves were souls being transformed on a journey.
