The Selkie

One of my favorite tales is a selkie story I found years ago in British Folktales, by Katherine Briggs.  The selkie is a being that takes the form of a seal when in the sea and sheds it's skin to walk about as a human on land.  It's said that the way to keep a selkie is to hide its seal skin, for it can never return to the sea without it.  Selkies can be man, woman or child and always find the way back to the sea that is their home.

In this version, a young hay farmer on the Isle of Unst comes upon a ring of selkies dancing under the light of the full moon in midsummer.  Stealthily, he creeps up, but is unaware that his shadow is before him and enters the ring.  That's all it takes, and the 'fairy people' run in all directions, picking up their seal skins and diving into the sea.  "...soon the air is filled with the sounds of their soft cries and splashes...".

All except one.

She is the most beautiful woman the man has ever seen.  She is running to and fro, looking as if she's lost something.  He realizes that his own shadow keeps her skin from sight and before she can realize it, he picks it up and hides it behind some rocks.

It would seem that this is a simple tale of a human finding a magical being for a spouse, a common motif the world over.  Or, it can be a story of ways we hold our own deeper, creative selves hostage, in order to experience union.

It is union with the wild, dark parts of our creative selves whose offspring bring us a sense of connection, awe, wonder and bliss.  By dark, I only mean those parts we ourselves are unfamiliar with, the places like the home of the selkie in the story.  "...where neither snow nor darkness ever come..."

Deep places in the self, that I am only able to commune with after removing the layers and layers of mundane, predictably human, daily life details.

I'm usually too busy for this - like the farmer - make hay while the sun shines, sort of thing.

It's on those potent midsummer evenings when the moon's in full, when the air brings forgiveness to the heat of the day's toil, when the sand shines brightly and the sound of the sea is a familiar and gentle love song.  Then, our potent, wild natures can be free to dance - for sheer joy.

What would have happened if his own shadow hadn't sent them running?  How was it that the selkies, themselves, had no shadows?  When we try to force our wild nature into domesticated life do we ever really experience the union we desire?

One tried and true method for tapping the wisdom of a story is to write a journal entry from the perspective of one of the characters.  Simply muse upon the events this character is experiencing from their perspective.  It's a journey with no destination - truly - the journey is the destination in this case.

It's also a gift - to your wild self.  Dive deep.

Getting What We Ask For

There's a quote from Spock in one of the original Star Trek episodes - Amok Time.

"...after a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing after all as wanting.  It is not logical, but it is often true."

One of my favorite folktales to tell is Be Nice, Be Polite.  There's more than one way to look at this story.  It's a funny tale, so it isn't often considered a good candidate for holding much wisdom, but in truth, we actually learn more while we are laughing.

The story is like the waterfall and pond - you can look at and enjoy the beautiful surface or you can dive in and explore the depths.  We don't know if what we'll find below is attractive or frightening, but it's always worth the attempt.  It may not even seem clear at first what we're seeing, but take some time, be still and let the water settle.  It's not called clarity for nothin'.

One aspect of this tale can be pointed to by the quote at the beginning of this post.  After all, the young woman, as any young woman of her time, would have looked forward in hopefulness to a successful match - which she got.  Then, she would want to have children - which she got, and mostly, she wanted them to be polite.  Which she got.

As my grandfather used to say, 'be careful what you wish for....you just might get it.'

East of the Sun, West of the Moon

Deep in the forests of Norway, on the darkest night of the shortest day, a man lived in a small house with his family.  He had many children, including his youngest daughter.  One night, an enormous, thick-furred bear knocks on the door and asks the man to give him his youngest daughter - in return the man and his family will live in prosperity and abundance - never wanting for anything.  The youngest daughter, to be treated as a princess in her own palace, will never want for any thing either.

The man has always struggled to provide for his family and the winters are particularly threatening.  He tells the bear to come back the next night; his youngest daughter will be ready.

The following day the man spends much time with his youngest daughter imparting what wisdom he has, appreciating every moment.  He waits until the knock on the door to tell her what is to be her fate ..... and her gift to her family.

This is a long tale, filled with deep feelings and human failings.  There is a suitable villian and a heroine's quest.  At first read I was deeply disappointed in a father who would sacrifice one child for the others.  Of course, if he had not sent her out into that new world of life with the bear, she would have missed an opportunity to experience so much joy. 

As it is, his willingness to sacrifice her to protect the others, her mistakes and amends, the nature of the bear and the requisite alchemical, dark queen tell a deeply beautiful story of innocence, fall, redemption and sacred union.

My favorite version is from Rabbit Ears Productions - it veers sharply from the traditional, but does so with insight and elegance.

For story lovers of a more hardy nature, the original Norwegian can be found in many fine collections.

This story is best read or told on long, cold wintry nights.  Imagine the wailing of the winds, the chill of the small home, the sound of the knock in the dark of night.

Imagine the complexity of a father's choice and the grief and confusion of a young girl made a commodity - except that she has really been transported to a world of deep, soulful, transformative experience

Imagine how often our own lives take this type of turn - do our 'inner' fathers have the courage to send us out, too?