Statue of The Brother’s Grimm, Hanau Germany, by Syrius Eberle, 1895-96. CC-by-SA-3.0
In honor of the bicentennial of Children’s Household Tales (1812) by the Brothers Grimm, the University of Florida presents Grimmfest this month and next. The university is home to the Baldwin Collection of Historical Children’s Literature, which features 2500 digitized children’s texts and a virtual exhibition of 19th century children’s book covers.
“Traditional fairy tales have their roots in our oldest stories, in myths and legends, in those primal tales that were formed when human beings first began to speak…However we may wish to define fairy tales, they remain an inescapable part of our psyches and our cultures. They are why we celebrate the underdog, and secretly acknowledge “The Ugly Duckling” as our own autobiography. Through their flights of fantasy, fairy tales set us free to seek our happiness, to follow our bliss — if only for the few minutes we are enfolded in a particular tale.”
This is a marvelous resource for anyone wishing to delve into the roots of the stories we love.
The view out my window is Skalholt Cathedal and this reconstructed chapel which is part of an archeological dig at one of Iceland’s key historical sites. On the horizon behind the chapel likes Hekla, one of Iceland’s most active volcanoes. In the middle ages, Europeans called it the Gateway to Hell. Hekla last erupted in February, 2000, but with luck, it will continue to sleep through the rest of the week.
Mary and I are here for a different type of archeology – a dig into an ancient tradition of story. We are here with three other storytellers to explore Njal’s Saga, the account of a feud with tragic consequences, not unlike the American tale of the Hatfields and the McCoys. In both cases, events are based in history; we’re visiting some of the key locations mentioned in the saga. Njal was shaped by an anonymous author into the masterpiece of a unique tradition that influenced Tolkien, among others.
Meeting of the continents: the North American tectonic plate (left) meets the Euro-Asian plate at Thingvellir, Iceland.
This week of the equinox, the temperature drops to freezing at night, but the guesthouse where we are staying is warmed by geothermal energy, by water bubbling up from hot springs that is shipped through pipes to cities and settlements throughout the island. Iceland is 99% energy independent.
I’ll have more to reflect on in future posts, but meanwhile it is seven hours later than west coast time – tomorrow is almost here, so it’s time to log out. Please enjoy your week and stay tuned for future posts.
If you happen to have a 4000 word short story in your drawer all ready to go, you’re in luck.
I haven’t been paying too much attention to writing contests this summer, so the deadline for the 2012 Writer’s Digest Popular Fiction Competition – September 14 – snuck up on me. Here are the details if you have a piece you can polish in two weeks: http://www.writersdigest.com/popularfictionawards?et_mid=576916&rid=3017168
Of greater interest to me is the short short story contest for works up to 1500 words, with deadline set at November 15. That’s enough time to create something from scratch. Not that short shorts are easy! They’re very challenging but I find them compelling to write as well – they’re like a a small sketch, a place to test an idea and reshape it before committing to a longer format. Here is the link to this contest. http://www.writersdigest.com/competitions/short-short-story-competition?et_mid=576916&rid=3017168
The word count may be limited but the prizes are not. First place wins $3000, publication in Writer’s Digest, and an expense paid trip to the Writer’s Digest Conference in New York next year.
Twenty-five years ago, Bill Moyers and Joseph Campbell filmed a groundbreaking series that opened the world of myth, story, and folklore to a large audience. The Power of Myth series was completed in 1987, shortly before Campbell died at the age of 83. It aired the following year on PBS, and you still sometimes find it replayed during pledge drives. The companion DVD set and book are still in print.
If you’ve never seen this series – or even if you have – grab some popcorn and fire it up on your largest monitor. This wonderful introduction to key stories from around the world was filmed at George Lucas’s Skywalker Ranch. Lucas was a serious student of Campbell, who structured the first Starwars trilogy around the hero myth.
Almost anything I have to say about myth and folklore is influenced by Campbell. In these final interviews, he distills a lifetime of study into a clear but powerful series of tales and observations that forever changes one’s view of the great stories of humankind.
Several people had wonderful things to say in response to preceding birthday post, where I restated what has become the mission statement of this blog: to look for the fantasy in all realities and the reality in all fantasy. The comments were almost too kind – but not quite – and they prompted me to begin several posts on people and things that have shaped my thinking about imagination. What jumps to mind first is movie released in 1984.
The Neverending Story, 1979, a fantasy novel by German author, Michael Ende, was translated into English in 1983. A film was released the following year, which I saw in the early ’90’s, after one of my psych professors said, “It’s a story about our culture’s war on imagination.”
A lonely boy named Bastian loves to read. One morning on the way to school, he ducks into a bookstore to escape pursuing bullies. He asks the grumpy store owner about an intriguing book called, The Neverending Story. “It isn’t safe,” the owner says. At an opportune moment, Bastian “borrows” the book and carries it into the school attic to read.
The book relates how the kingdom of Fantasia is under attack by the Nothing, a dark void that consumes everything it touches. The creatures of Fantasia appeal to their ruler, The Childlike Empress, but the Nothing has made her ill. She summons Atreyu, a warrior of Bastian’s age, to conquer The Nothing, and gives him a magical talisman, the AURYN to guide him on the quest. The force behind The Nothing summons Gmork, a wolf-like beast who craves power, to kill Atreyu.
The AURYN. Stephen Spielberg keeps the original prop in his office
Nowadays we’d call this a middle-grade book, but 33 years ago, when The Neverending Story was written, that label didn’t exist. Most books written for young people, then and now, focus on personal issues. Bastian is lonely and has trouble at school, but this is just the inciting action, not the real subject of the story. The book and movie are unique in presenting a very adult theme – imagination and the forces arrayed against it – in fiction for this age group.
Atreyu finds no clues concerning the Nothing, so he risks the Swamps of Saddness to find the wisest being in Fantasia. Those who succumb to the sadness sink into the swamp and are lost. This is the fate of Atreyu’s beloved horse, Artax.
The wise being cannot help, but directs Atreyu to the Southern Oracle, 10,000 miles away. While trudging through the swamp with Gmork on his trail and little chance of success,Atreyu begins to sink into despair. A Luckdragon named Falkor rescues him and carries him most of the way to the oracle.
Atreyu and Falkor
The oracle tells Atreyu that the only way to save Fantasia is for a human child, who lives beyond the borders of the realm, to give the Childlike Empress a new name. Then the oracle crumbles, a victim of the Nothing.
Falkor and Atreyu seek the border, and find the Nothing, which has become incredibly strong. Atreyu encounters Gmork who explains that Fantasia is “humanity’s hopes and dreams,” while the Nothing is “human apathy, cynicism, and the denial of childish dreams.”
Atreyu kills Gmork but is wounded and nearly falls victim to the Nothing. He is rescued once again by Falkor, but when he regains consciousness, only fragments of Fantasia remain, floating in the void. The two make their way to the Ivory Tower, where Atreyu tells the Empress he has failed.
She says no, he has succeeded. His quest was the only way to draw the attention of the human child, who is listening to them as they speak. Bastian realizes she is talking of him. As the Nothing begins to consume the Tower, the Empress begs him to say her name. Bastian races to the attic window, and cries, “Moonchild!” into the face of an approaching storm. He finds himself face to face with the Empress, who reveals that the Nothing has consumed all of Fantasia but a single grain of sand.
The Empress gives Bastian the last grain of sand of Fantasia
The Empress tells Bastian that his imagination and wishes have the power to restore the land to its former glory. In the final scene, we see Bastian soaring on Falkor through skies in Fantasia and his own world. I wasn’t crazy about the ending. There’s a Disney quality though out, since in the days before digital animation, films like this relied on animated models and actors in costumes, but that was not necessarily a liability. Jim Henson pulled it off without missing a beat in Dark Crystal, 1982.
In the last scene of The Neverending Story, I’m aware of watching a children’s movie, which disappoints, since most of the film was greater than any such category. Even so, in the 20 years that have passed since I saw the movie, I’ve never forgotten the chords it struck concerning imagination. Please take a look at this clip of Atreyu meeting Gmork to get a sense of the movie’s scope:
In succeeding posts, we’ll look at some views of Depth Psychology and certain spiritual traditions. For both of them, literalism is the enemy of living with soul and imagination. The Neverending Story tells us this is a battle we each must fight in our own hearts and minds. The world of practical affairs and the marketplace have never had much use for the world’s dreamers. Can we still manage to hear the cries of the Otherworld beings who fade into nothing at our lack of attention? “Rosebud” in Citizen Kane is the dying cry of someone who lost Fantasia.
The Neverending Story echoes world folklore in showing the need otherworld creatures have for humans. Irish and Scottish fairies steal mortal children. The fairy queen sought out Thomas the Rhymer to be his consort for seven years, the same length of time the sea nymph, Calypso, held onto Odysseus in ancient Greece. Why do such beings need us for redemption?
These are just some of the questions this apparently simple “children’s movie” raises. They are far to complex to answer here, but I plan to take some additional forays into imaginal realms in the next few posts, so please stay tuned.
A friend on a writer’s mailing list sent this notice of the ALMA short story contest. First prize is $1000 and inclusion in the ALMA Short Story Compilation for 2013. Word limit is 3000. Due date is Nov. 12, 2012. The entry fee is $15 before Aug. 12 and $20 after that. Here are the details:
While sitting with friends the other day, I heard a woman describe her extended family as “all about issues.” At holidays and picnics, arguments erupt over politics, gender, economics, and all the social concerns du jour – right-to-life vs. right-to-choose, and who can and should get married. The woman shook her head and said, “I think I want to live a life without issues.”
That phrase really clicked with me, and the more I thought about it, the more it explained certain “issue oriented” posts that I started recently but never finished. I’d wondered if it was summer laziness, or if I needed a break from blogging, but no – I saw it in a flash – I need a break from issues! Not an ostrich move, but an issue fast.
A voice in my head objected – “But…but…but…now that the presidential race is really on, aren’t these issues more important than ever? Doesn’t the future of the Republic and who knows what else hang in the balance?” One thought led to another, and the phrase, “ship of fools” came to mind. I found myself humming The Grateful Dead’s, “Ship of Fools.” I cranked it up when I got home and logged in to explore the theme. What follows is just a hint of the history of the image and its vast metaphoric possibilities.
And yes, there’s a nice Grateful Dead clip at the end of the post you can listen to while you read…
Hieronymus Bosh, “Ship of Fools,” c. 1490-1500, detail
Wikipedia says, “The ship of fools is an allegory that has long been a fixture in Western literature and art. The allegory depicts a vessel populated by human inhabitants who are deranged, frivolous, or oblivious passengers aboard a ship without a pilot, and seemingly ignorant of their own direction.“
It’s surprising that the Ship of Fools/Ship of State analogy has yet to be picked up this year, with its “deranged, frivolous, or oblivious passengers,” but there’s more than allegory bound up with the phrase. The same Wikipedia entry details the origin of the image:
“Renaissance men developed a delightful, yet horrible way of dealing with their mad denizens: they were put on a ship and entrusted to mariners because folly, water, and sea, as everyone then ‘knew’, had an affinity for each other. Thus, ‘Ship of Fools’ crisscrossed the sea and canals of Europe with their comic and pathetic cargo of souls. Some of them found pleasure and even a cure in the changing surroundings, in the isolation of being cast off, while others withdrew further, became worse, or died alone and away from their families. The cities and villages which had thus rid themselves of their crazed and crazy, could now take pleasure in watching the exciting sideshow when a ship full of foreign lunatics would dock at their harbors.” – Jose Barchilon’s introduction to Madness and Civilization, by Michel Foucault.
On the literal level, this “delightful, yet horrible” custom is not entirely a thing of the past. We can think of New York City in 2009, with it’s offer to homeless people of free one-way tickets to anywhere else. The same thing happens here, when overworked neighboring social service agencies “dump” their homeless in Sacramento county.
As an imaginal image, The Fool still evokes powerful responses of fear and fascination in the Western psyche. The Fool is the first card of the Major Arcana in the Tarot, evoking “beginner’s mind,” that mix of wisdom and naiveté with which we begin the spiritual path, or depending on your belief system, each new incarnation in the world (or both).
From his studies of Irish folklore, Yeats learned that among the fairies, the Queen and the Fool each share tremendous power. A mortal may survive a “stroke” given by one of the other fairies, but nothing in heaven or earth can save you if you get on the wrong side of the Fool or the Queen.
While Europeans consigned them to ships, and later to institutions like Bedlam, some native American tribes considered their “fools” as sacred, for they had clearly been touched by the spirits. I’m reminded of Theodore Roethke’s poem, In a Dark Time, when he says, “What’s madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?”
The image of the Ship of Fools turns up in movies, music and books, most recently in Ship of Fools, 2009, by Fintan O’Toole, an Irish journalist who uses the metaphor to describe “the Irish political establishment and their self-deception regarding the economic situation in the country.”
This wanders into dangerous territory for someone on an issue-fast – it cuts too close to certain Americans seeking office – “deranged, frivolous, or oblivious passengers aboard a ship without a pilot, and seemingly ignorant of their own direction.”
So let’s adjourn to the Grateful Dead! “Ship of Fools,” by Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter, was first performed in 1974. Here is an excellent clip from the 1989 summer solstice show at Shoreline Amphitheater. Enjoy!
Went to see the captain strangest I could find Laid my proposition down Laid it on the line; I won’t slave for beggar’s pay likewise gold and jewels but I would slave to learn the way to sink your ship of fools.
Years ago I had a friend I sometimes looked to for counsel. He was a few years older than me and had already blazed the trail from hippie to the not-really-expected condition of being a family man with a mortgage and responsibilities. Holding to his ideals even as he cut his hair and put on a suit, he got a masters in psychology and became director of a drug and alcohol treatment center in northern California.
From the many discussions we had, I remember most clearly his phrase, “the seemingly bad.” He meant that we cannot really evaluate events as they unfold, and we waste a lot of energy trying.
Years later I came upon a Chinese folktale that serves as a parable of the point. It goes by various names, such as “An Old Man Finds a Horse.” An illustrated children’s version of the tale was published by Ed Young and Tracey Adams in 1998 as, The Lost Horse.
Here is the gist of the story.
Once a wise old man lived on the steppes. One day his prize mare ran away. The neighbors said, “How terrible. What a loss!” The old man said, “Perhaps.”
A few weeks later, the mare returned, along with a fine stallion. The neighbors said, “What great good fortune for you!” The old man said, “Perhaps.”
When the man’s son tried to ride the stallion, the horse threw him and he suffered a badly broken leg. The neighbors said, “You’re only son is crippled. What a terrible blow!” The old man said, “Perhaps.”
A short time later a regiment marched through the valley, pressing all the young men into military service – except the old man’s son, who was unable to serve in the infantry because of his leg. The other young men who marched to war never came home.
I had my own experience of “the seemingly bad” in the early ’80’s. I worked as a part-time community college art instructor and wanted a full time position. Shasta College, in Weed, CA, right at the foot of Mt. Shasta, had an opening, and based on an application and phone interview, I was invited to visit the school as one of five candidates for a second interview.
Everything looked good. My portfolio was strong, and I got a glowing recommendation from the chairman of the art department where I had studied, who had also taught the hiring professor at Shasta. Mary and I drove up on the kind of fall weekend that makes you glad to be alive. The interview went well, and that night we celebrated with dinner at a restaurant that featured a balcony overlooking a creek. While watching a golden sunset, we talked about where to live and what to do in our new home.
Guess what?
They promoted one of their own part-timers. I’m sure they intended this all along, and the interviews were just a formality to satisfy labor regulations. I was crushed. I forgot my old friend’s lesson, that this might just be seemingly bad.
A year later, in the face of recession and severe budget cuts, the position I had applied for was cut, along with a number of other teaching jobs. If I had been hired, we would have been stuck in a small town with severe unemployment.
This story and the concept of “seemingly bad” came to mind recently when I thought of people I’ve met who are desperate to get published – not just working hard to achieve the goal, but desperate, piling all their hopes and sense of worth on that increasingly shaky endeavor. What happens to the many who will never achieve that goal?
Hopefully, something along the lines of what happened after Shasta College turned me down. Feeling at first like a sell-out, I went to work in computer graphics. In retrospect, it was a great move. What seemed bad turned me down a different road that allowed me to make a good living while exploring a different kind of creativity.
I’m not suggesting that bad things don’t happen, or every cloud has a silver lining. The seemingly bad can be awfully hard to weather. I am suggesting that it’s hard to anticipate outcomes from the middle of the trenches. The more I thought about it, the better it seemed to pass on my old friend’s advice. The seemingly good and seemingly bad are often not what they seem.
The First Gates 