Acts of Service

"I couldn't help that girl, and now I feel like I can't help this woman."

Darrow of Lykos, Golden Son by Pierce Brown

If you look up the characteristics of a Virgo, you'll find many descriptors some glowing and some quite unflattering. But one of the innate qualities of the sign is that she is a servant. A helper.

These terms may trigger different reactions depending on what they represent to you. "Servant" may conjure up a sense of subservience and control which may inspire resistance; while a certain subset might think of submission and dominance and find them exciting or even arousing. To each their own. Still others may think of selfless giving and acts of love and devotion.

I've been at both ends of the spectrum to varying degrees. I have seen service as noble, vital for healthy relationships, a pleasure, a gift that I was willing and happy to give. I've also felt it as a constraint, a duty imposed upon me, a burdensome act that I was not free to deny and under those circumstances, service became a thing I grew to resent.

As I read the second installment of Pierce Brown's Red Rising saga for the second time, the above citation hit me very differently from my initial read. And what it ultimately boils down to is a consideration of identity that starts with the question:

Who am I when I am unable to help?

The attendant feelings of powerlessness and uselessness that surface when a major part of your self-image is rooted in being helpful and useful to others can be deeply destabilising. When you derive your value from being of service, you can feel unmoored on encountering situations where your knowledge and abilities do not apply, or when your personal resources of time, energy, or mental and emotional availability have simply reached their limit.

These periods of crisis may vary in nature and duration. They might be nothing more than a transitory anomaly, a blip on your radar so to speak. At other times, they may be long-lived and seismic in impact touching deep chords that disrupt your inner compass and shake your core values.

Whatever the tenor of these episodes, they invite us to readjust and re-calibrate what being of service looks like and to reconsider why we ascribe so much importance to being useful.

"I don't know how to accept her help, or how I should handle her."

Darrow of Lykos, Ibid

When I hear Darrow's inner lament, what occurs to me this time around is that sometimes we are not meant to serve. Sometimes others are better equipped to assist, so we must get out of the way and let them. And that can mean sitting with and working through the discomfort of feeling useless.

Sometimes service means having the humility to allow others to find their own way without your input which includes stepping back so they can make their own mistakes and grow from them.

At times the best advice you can give is your silence because it's not about you. At such moments no other action may be required from you than to learn through observation and contemplation.

And sometimes, service looks more like partnership and collaboration rather than the heroic save, or the martyr's sacrifice.

Worrying about being able to provide assistance can blind you to another truth: that you are the one in need of help. It's easy to be so intent on giving support; to be so accustomed to the role of "the reliable one" that you miss the signs that are frantically trying to alert you to the fact that you need help. Worse, having a false idea of who you are can drive you to reject aid even when you realise you need it.

You can spend so much time giving support that you don't know how to receive that same support from others. This trait is actually quite detrimental to building healthy relationships because it deprives those involved of the opportunity to build genuine intimacy and the trust that comes from knowing and being known. A bond that can only be forged through real vulnerability.

Eventually, though, the recalcitrant servant girl must grow up. The path of the Virgin leads to Queendom. Ascendancy requires the maturity that is able to receive service in order to be of meaningful service to others. After all, a great Queen is one who does both.