Goldfinches

Goldfinches are flocking to the new finch feeder in my garden daily prompting me to contemplate their nickname, their current presence in my life and their connection to Donna Tartt’s 2014 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, The Goldfinch, centering on the 1654 Dutch painting by Carel Fabritius, originally titled Het Puttertje.

According to Wikipedia, source of all true knowledge in the world, goldfinches were popular pets in the 17th century because they could be trained to draw water from a bowl with a miniature bucket or thimble-sized cup. The Dutch title of the painting refers to the bird's nickname, puttertje, literally “little weller,” derived from the verb putten, “to draw water from a well.”

It seems to me that it is what Donna Tartt didn’t put into writing that garnered the Pulitzer Prize rather than what she did. Like the pet songbirds drawing up their own water, it is up to the reader to draw up the meaning in the book just as it is up to us to draw up the meaning in our daily lives.

Last year, when The Goldfinch was a monthly selection for our book club, opinion varied greatly, from “It was too long,” (that’s it – the reader’s entire statement of insight and opinion after reading its 771 pages), to an iconoclastic and symbolic metaphysical interpretation of its numinous view of life, art and the universe.

In the book, Tartt explains the significance of Fabritius’ contribution to painting. His revolutionary style represented a transition from his master, Rembrandt, to his pupil, Johannes Vermeer, who further improved the skill of painting shadows. I still thrill at the memory of reading her description of how a close examination of The Goldfinch painting reveals the transfomation of the artist’s brush strokes into a living bird’s feathers. The artist is literally creating life, bringing it into form out of the void, out of nothing, just as we do. Tartt draws a parallel between the artist’s interaction with the painting during the creative process and the viewer’s interaction with the completed work of art centuries later. Both include an encounter with the numinous as the painting and the viewing come into form. So too with our lives. All involve drawing from the well.

The painting itself depicts a small goldfinch secured to a perch on its feed box by a fine chain, a metaphor for the myriad ways the book’s characters chain themselves to their grief, their loss, their addictions, their trauma, their relationships, their possessions, their money, their thoughts, their beliefs… The author’s unwritten invitation to the reader is to examine their own life to determine how and to what they have chained themselves, opening up an opportunity for self-redemption.

More than a year after reading the book, I find it still speaking to me as goldfinches frequent my garden. Why? Hmmmm…..

The finch feeder is a new addition to my garden this year. After looking at all the different makes and models at Lowe’s, Home Depot and Wal*Mart, I was attracted to one with a black metal mesh column to hold the nyjer, or thistle, seed. It has a yellow lid and tray, which doubles as a perch and a catch for seed husks. The directions advised patience as it might take some time for finches to find the feeder. They have. It’s not unusual to see several clinging to it at a time. AHA! After several weeks of welcoming mostly goldfinches, I finally realized the feeder is the same colors they are. OH!

Only after several weeks more did I understand the connection between my wild goldfinch neighbors in the bosque (river forest) and me. Two months ago, I completed writing the narrative of !Ultreya! A Caregiver’s Journey, a book about the spiritual transformation my son Grant and I experienced while facing his life-threatening illness and death, but I could not bring myself to work on and finish the minimal rewriting and editing that remain. Instead, I have been doing a lot of emotional healing and forgiveness work through acupuncture, therapeutic massage, a twelve-step writing group and Family Constellation work. 

Recently I realized that, subconsciously, I felt finishing the book would be like losing Grant again. Two wise friends helped me reframe this chaining thought. One said, “Grant will live on through the book and its readers.” Another said, “Terranda, you are going to lose Grant over and over again.” When I recognized the truth in what they both said, I unchained myself from the perch and set myself free to write. Two nature poems, one about Canada Geese, and one about the finch feeder, came through me, appropriately, on Mother’s Day. Gifts from Grant.

Next I realized the goldfinches in my garden were unchained – wild and free – coming and going at will. I accept their symbolic meaning for me. As I do my own inner healing work and attend to my spiritual growth, I am freeing myself from chains that bind me.