The Little Giant

When my husband told me he'd made reservations at Little Giant for his birthday, I was drawn to the name. I wondered how it had gotten it. After the movie? Because the name gave me such a particular feeling and had such an interesting playfulness, I felt like it's appearance in my life was conspicuous, and I had the feeling that there would be a story to follow.

The source of the story? My mind's search for pattern? Astrology? A playful Holy Spirit up to her usual tricks? A wink from the higher self to the lower?A motif that acts as a focal point to help me organize my experiences? I dunno.

The name sort of created a test tube in which certain experiences could gestate to a higher level of lucidity than others. (There is actually something called the Little Giant Incubator.) Like when something extraordinary happens in a dream, or even just something that's highly specific, and because of the clarity and focus of it, and perhaps the sense of wonder, you become awake enough in your dream so that you remember the image once you're awake. This happens to me sometimes.

Little things happened. I met one of the members of the band "They Might Be Giants." He was very kind and has a sweet smile. Of course I was playing it too cool to mention how much the kids and I enjoyed "NO!" and the DVD "Here Come the ABCs," especially the songs "At The Alphabet Lost and Found" and "E eats Everything."

I've also been day-dreaming about these stilt walking children I once saw on Sesame street. This little segment focused on the caribbean carnival tradition where children walk on stilts hidden under their costumes.

At a party, a friend spoke of his astonishment with the size of his sister's child. "I mean, he's 3 and he's 60 pounds. I weighted 60 pounds when I was 7!" He seemed really scared.

But today something happened that gave me that finale feeling, something grand and amazing. During the Brooklyn Summer Players production of Into The Woods, a small girl played the role of Jack's giant's wife. Her tiny head appeared about 12 feet in the air, topping off a long green cloak that draped to the floor and covered the man whose shoulders she sat on. I don't think it's possible to communicate how deeply shocking and surprising it was to watch her performance. She seemed so calm up there, as if she had no idea she was as tall as she was. She seemed like an emanation of Guadalupe or Fatima. Her message was one of conscience, she came demanding justice for her husband's murder. The actors on the floor did a great job of accentuating the illusion of her enornmousness by shouting up to her much louder than they needed to. Then the humans whom she had been attacking hatched a plan to blind her to render her helpless and then do her in. That was hard to watch. I was hoping Jack would apologize and she would forgive him.

So, what if I were too look for a message in all of this? What's the message of the little giant? I can make one up but it would just be my apophenia at work. Maybe it's better to consciously view this as a mirror, and know that whatever meaning I project onto it is the thing my deeper wisdom, or deeper ignorance, is offering, and simply enjoy the playfulness of the mind.