eagle Ryno Swart
The and other teachers Unit 1: Introduction
The eagle and other teachers
The eagle and other teachers By Ryno Swart
Introduction This morning I drove into Cape Town, a distance of about 40km. Driving along Ou Kaapse Weg, listening to my iPod on the car radio, the mountain rising to my left and the landscape tumbling away to my right in waves of green fynbos, an eagle swept past, lower than my eyeline, wings spread and twisting this way and that to negotiate the treetops. Eagles are a rare sight, and as ever when I see one, my spirit lifted and joy ďŹ lled my heart. After coffee with my friend George and an appointment at Fine Music Radio, I started back home. Heading out of the city, now listening to classical music, I thought about that eagle. Two days ago I started sketching out this article, and got as far as designing the 2
The eagle and other teachers
cover. That eagle, I thought, because of its timing, probably was reminding me: “Work on our article...” With the tought fresh in my mind, as I drove around a curve, high above and circling high above, I saw a second eagle. “Nooo,” I called out at the eagle, the way I tend to do, and waving at the great bird, “This is not possible!” After some distance, I calmed down, and tried to divine the message of this second eagle. It was not difficult: “... do it today!”
Animals are messengers. Like dreams, animals are the link between the world of consciousness and the subconscious. They appear unbidden, enter our field of awareness, and move on, trailing meaning and authority. They appear to all of us, but it is only sometimes that we listen. And when we don’t pay attention, they will insist. I have had a few encounters with owls, but somehow it seemed too obvious, some link to the idea of wisdom and then... so what? Then one day I visited the world of birds with my wife and my little boy, and as we were exploring and pointing out some favorites we ended up in the cage dedicated to the Giant Eagle Owl. I was in complete awe of these magnificent birds and as Jean and Anne moved into the next enclosure , I held back looking intently at the owl. Slowly, lanquidly it lifted its enormous wings, and with one broad sweep lifted off from its branch and settle itself on my head, digging its sharp talons into my scalp. In a confusion of horror and awe, and 3
The eagle and other teachers
fearing for the future of my scalp, I slowly bent my knees, sinking deeper and deeper until my head was level with the railing. The owl took its leisure, then with a simple, even gentle hop, it moved over onto the fence. I backed off and joined my bemused family. Walking away, I kept looking back at the owl, but it just sat there, smug and inscrutable, eyes hooded by its heavy lids. “What was all that about?” Anne asked, smiling. “I don’t have the faintest idea, but I suppose it was saying something like, ‘So, just what is it going to take to get your attention?’ “ My aim with this book or partwork is to recount some lessons that were taught to me by nature, lessons which were directly related to art. These animals were not so much my life teachers, as my art teachers. Years later I was delighted to learn about the importance given to animals by Red Indians, and when fate took me to the US, it did not take me to Washington or to New York or LA, but straight to Montana, and there to a small town called Heart Butte. Heart Butte, together with Venice, the physical home of my heart. I hope to approach this book in sections of 4 pages, like this, one unit per month, and it my dearest wish that one or two of you out there may resonate to its chords. You can make sure of getting these flights of whimsy and truth by subscribing, and I would love to hear from any sympathetic soul at ryno@artistvision.org Simon’s Town. 7th January 2011. http://artistvision.org 4