What do you make of them?
Here’s what I see. Indomitable hope is a bird that flies over islands of inevitable, ineluctable, and ever-renewing evil.
Garuda, in case you aren’t up on your study of Indonesian symbolism, is a bird. Not just any bird, however. Although some Indonesians might associate Leptoptilos dubius, the greater adjutant Stork, with Garuda, the gilded bird known as Garuda Pancasila is more familiar as a stylized national emblem on the Indonesian flag. It’s a symbol for the Indonesian Air Force, and the national airline is called Garuda Indonesia. Garuda appears in many forms in different countries, and it derives from a figure in Hindu, Buddhist, and Jain faiths. That it symbolizes a mostly Muslim country is testimony to its widespread significance, especially so in light of a plan to shape a national palace in its form. Lest you think that Garuda is all lightness wafted on gentle breezes, you should know that it often represents the violence that forces of “Good,” such as military units like those of India and Indonesia, can inflict on the forces of “Evil,” as sometimes symbolized by the cobra-like and potentially dangerous Nagas of the netherworld.***
Having weathered the economic ravages of COVID in 2020 and still weathering a slow recovery under attempts to vaccinate a large population, Indonesia’s President Joko Widodo (aka Jokowi) has restarted plans to move the capital city to Borneo. And at the same time, Indonesian counterterrorism police have been rounding up terrorists, so far about two dozen of them who belong to the banned Jemaah Islamiyah militant group associated with al-Qaida, a group responsible for the bombings in 2002 in Bali. Indonesia’s counterterrorism squads are the foils to its modern day potentially dangerous terrorist Nagas.
That a country can weather a pandemic and terrorism and still plan to build a palace in the shape of a golden bird, reflects a little verse by Emily Dickinson about indomitable hope. In the second stanza, Emily writes:
And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard-
And sore must be the storm-
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm- ****
Garuda isn’t the “little bird,” but is, rather, a defender of imposing strength. But Emily makes a point that conveys the same meaning as the symbolic Garuda, that it takes a “sore” storm to abash the bird of hope. The “thing with feathers” sings its tune of hope even in gales. We hear its tune over the raging winds. The bird flies and sings regardless of the storms that persistent Evil sends our way.
Think, the next time you find yourself confronted by Evil or dire circumstances, of that bird because, as Emily writes in her first stanza, hope “perches in the soul,” your soul, your indomitable soul. Yes, sometimes you have to act with the violence represented by Garuda in its fight against Nagas, but you can with constant awareness, quash the forces of ever-present Evil to build your own Garuda-shaped palace.
*Gayatri Suroyo. Reuters, Wire Service Content. US News. 25 Mar 2021. Online at https://www.usnews.com/news/world/articles/2021-03-25/indonesia-floats-idea-of-garuda-shaped-palace-as-it-revives-capital-city-move Accessed March 25, 2021.
**Andi Jatmiko and Niniek Karmini. Associated Press, Stars and Stripes. 19 Mar 2021. Online at
https://www.stripes.com/news/pacific/indonesian-police-say-new-cell-islamic-militant-group-was-recruiting-training-1.666465 Accessed March 25, 2021.
***Just a little etymological note: See any cognate resemblance between “naga” and “snake”? Ah! The connections of languages derived from Indo-European!
**** “Hope” is the thing with feathers [Yes, that’s how Emily entitled it, with quotation marks around hope; she also seemed to love hyphens and dashes]
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.