In the perfume shop show window was a large jar of freckle salve, and beside the jar was a sign, which read: DO YOU SUFFER FROM FRECKLES?
"What does the sign say?" ask Pippi Longstocking. She couldn't read very well because she didn't want to go to school as other children did.
"It says, 'Do you suffer from freckles?'" said Annika.
"Does it indeed?" said Pippi thoughtfully. "Well, a civil question deserves a civil answer. Let's go in."
She opened the door and entered the shop, closely followed by Tommy and Annika. An elderly lady stood back of the counter. Pippi went right up to her. "No!" she said decidedly.
"What is it you want?" asked the lady.
"No," said Pippi once more.
"I don't understand what you mean," said the lady.
"No, I don't suffer from freckles," said Pippi.
Then the lady understood, but she took one look at Pippi and burst out, "But, my dear child, your whole face is covered with freckles!"
"I know it," said Pippi, "but I don't suffer from them. I love them. Good morning."
She turned to leave, but when she got to the door she looked back and cried, "But if you should happen to get in any salve that gives people more freckles, then you can send me seven or eight jars."
(Pippi Goes on Board, Astrid Lindgren)
When Ellen Meloy's younger brother painted Jesus' face purple as a youngster in Sunday School, he learned three lessons quickly...
One, there are a few Sunday School teachers who need more roughage in their diet.
Two, freckles of any kind are frowned upon.
And three, Jesus can never be purple.
So sometime, at a young age, we create filters that tell us how to pick and choose.
This is sacred, that is secular.
This is beautiful, that is ugly.
This is valuable, that is worthless.
This is meaningful or useful, that is wasteful or lavish.
This is spiritual, that is purple (and therefore definitely not spiritual).
It is a way of compartmentalizing life. In an odd way, we rob ourselves (putting our mind through the paces, "Am I supposed to be enjoying this?"). It operates like some kind of governor on our capacity to experience delight.
We, like Pipi, are invited to live in split world.
Using a metaphor from the world of golf, we get too technical. So focused on what is "correct," we forget to "just swing." And, in the words of Bagger Vance, we lose "the true authentic swing in all of us."
In the world of gardening, we see only the glaring blunders. They cannot be enjoyed until they are fixed.
It reminds me of the story about a man so proud of his garden. He showed a friend, "See, look at my garden!"
The friend stood incredulous, "But there are no flowers, no plants."
"Oh," the man responded, "but of course there aren't any. But look! There are no weeds!"
So yes, we eliminate the freckles. And we also remove what is unique or original or passionate or zealous or sacred or questioning or inimitable or idiosyncratic or authentic or particular or unorthodox or even heretical.
Pipi can be our teacher today. We need only the permission to see...
...Freckles can be beauty marks.
...Ordinary days and events and conversations, are containers of grace.
What Huston Smith called "grace notes."
...The best things in life are nearest: Breath in your nostrils, light in your eyes, flowers at your feet, duties at your hand, the path of right just before you. Then do not grasp at the stars, but do life's plain, common work as it comes, certain that daily duties and daily bread are the sweetest things in life. (Robert Louis Stevenson)
Henry David Thoreau understood this. Here's an entry from May 1852, "Evening. Moon not up. The dream frog's is such a sound as you can make with a quill on water, a bubbling sound. There goes a shooting star down towards the horizon, like a rocket, appearing to describe a curve. The water sleeps with stars in its bosom."
