Changing the story

The act of retelling a classic fairy tale marks another shift

This is the longest I’ve ever been away from the newsletter: I haven’t written for two and a half months. At the end of the fourth year of Some Little Language, I averaged ten posts per year, even though I had intended all along to write one post a month. So far I mostly tended to miss a beat yearly around autumn, when normal life was disrupted one way or another.

This autumn was no exception. In September I re-started therapy after a hiatus of more than three months; a long-anticipated road trip (aka Opera Pilgrimage) to north Italy finally became reality (I hope to write more on this in the new year); some dental trouble that began in September, and is still going on, disrupted a professional project that I was eventually unable to complete in time.

So this one here is the 9th post in this year and the 40th post altogether. The idea of a post in a completely different style took shape gradually over the autumn, but I only noticed the coincidence of these two auspicious numbers as I sat down to draft this post: totally unplanned, but possibly meaningful. Proof - if any were needed - that insights and connections often surface in the process of creation.

Unlike all my previous posts, this one is a re-telling of the fairy tale of the Little Mermaid. It started its life (the re-telling I mean) last summer, as one of the strands of a braided essay on the voice. But as I started drafting the story in longhand, it took on a life of its own. I was drawn into its mythical world, as if carried away by the sea waves, almost without knowing where I was heading, but happy to float along on a joyful journey. Over a week, I spent a few hours in the zone, letting the details flow out of my pen, and surprising myself with what came out. I discovered the hitherto unknown joy and freedom of writing fantasy.

The story ended up too long to work effectively in the braided essay, and both were temporarily parked as autumn settled in and other issues commanded my attention. I plan return to the essay on the voice in the new year, but the story feels a fitting conclusion to a year when I let go of some burdens and embraced new joys.

How the Little Mermaid stopped being little

Once upon a time, there was a Little Mermaid who loved learning. She swam through the crystal-clear sea with her friends, sometimes even swimming far away into places she was forbidden to. She longed to know more about humans, their lives and their world.

Her father, who had often travelled to the surface of the sea and seen humans, brought home many exciting stories from his travels. With every story, the Little Mermaid’s curiosity for the worlds above the surface of the sea grew and grew, together with her desire to see it, or even – dare she say it? – to live there. Her world, the sea, felt restricted, the rules of their life meaningless. For example, why shouldn’t merchildren swim beyond the coral reef? What lay there that could be dangerous?

But then again, how could she leave everything she knew for something she didn’t? She had no idea, but the urge wouldn’t leave her in peace.

One of her close friends was Sisi the seagull. He flitted between the sea and the human world, often hitching free rides on human ships so he knew a lot about the human world and was only too happy to share – show off? – his knowledge. He also knew their language and agreed to teach her. The Little Mermaid’s father, always happy to indulge her, agreed to let her swim to the surface regularly to meet Sisi and learn the language of humans.

One day, as Little Mermaid and Sisi sat on a rock practising, a bottle washed up on a wave and smashed on the rock. She had never seen anything similar before: it was clear like the sea, but sharp unlike it.

“This is called glass,” Sisi explained. “Would you believe it is made of sand? Sand is heated with fire – but you don’t know what ‘fire’ is, do you? – and becomes transparent like the sea, but solid and not at all fluid, unlike the sea. It also becomes fragile as you can see: it’s now smashed into sharp pieces.”

The Little Mermaid made to pick up one of the pieces.

“Be careful, you can hurt yourself!”

A roll of something that looked like seaweed, but larger and drier poked out of the shards. She pulled it out. “Is this glass too?” she asked.

“Humans call this paper,” Sisi said. “See these squiggles? These are images of the sounds that make up words.”

“You mean this ‘paper’ can speak?”

Sisi nodded triumphantly.

“Can you read it? What does it say?”

She unrolled the paper carefully and Sisi began reading.

Dear Mermaid,

I don’t know you – I don’t even know whether you exist, but I have seen many images of you in old books and have read stories from your world and about your beautiful songs that bewitch humans. I love to know more about what the merworld is like, and to listen to your songs, but since I am a human and need air to breathe, I can only dive under the sea surface for a few minutes at a time.

I don’t even know whether this message will get to you and whether you will be able to read it, but I am sending it anyway. I often swim round to the little cove under the promontory, where the small white church is; I’ve read that mermaids like to come up to the sea surface there, because it is inaccessible on foot so humans never go there unless by swimming.

I hope we will meet – there is so much I want to learn from you!

Prince X

The Little Mermaid flapped her tailfin in excitement. “I know the little cove he means! Can we meet there for our lessons from now on? Please?”

Sisi wasn’t so sure. What would King Antony say if he found out? But the Little Mermaid was so insistent, he had to give in.

They met and they fell in love (after all, this is a fairy tale so far.)

But how would they live together? He would never become a merman - how could he? He was a Prince! She might be able to become a human - how could she? (She was a Princess too, but this minor detail didn’t cross her mind). She had heard of the Sea Witch in stories told to merchildren to scare them into keeping within the bounds of the merkingdom. She might be able to help.

She found the Sea Witch in a dark, warren-like cave, on the very first time she ventured so far away into forbidden territory. The Sea Witch told her that she would have to grow legs and lungs to live with the Prince. In this way, she would be able to speak and learn human language better, but in exchange for legs and lungs, she would have to give up her singing voice and the expression of her feelings, like all human women in the prince’s world.

“As a token of our pact, you will hand over your sodalite pendant. I will then recite the magic formula that will gradually turn you into a human. Is this a deal?”

The Little Mermaid nodded. The Sea Witch continued in her booming voice.

“I warn you now, while you can still change your mind: you will have to fit in, or you’ll be rejected, both by the Prince and by everyone in his world. They must feel you are one of them, and no different. You will also have to put up with a lot of heat, and you will find walking difficult. Once your change is compete, you will never be able to come back to the merworld, except for a short time. Even if you are unhappy, I repeat: there will be no coming back to the merkingdom. You will have to find a third way. This is the bargain: take it or leave it.”

She took it and in exchange, she handed over the sodalite pendant with both hands. Her deep love for the prince and her curiosity for his world and way of life made everything worth it. The Sea Witch intoned the magic formula and sent her on her way.

Over time, the Little Mermaid’s tailfin began to atrophy and legs began to grow in its stead. As she spent longer and longer periods of time on the surface of the sea, she found that she could breathe like a human for longer and stay underwater for less. She continued meeting the Prince at the little cove, until one morning the Little Mermaid had a pair of legs and a pair of lungs, both fully functional. She was not a mermaid anymore.

*****

Many years passed after the Little Mermaid’s and the Prince’s happily ever after.

The Prince’s family had welcomed her with open arms: why wouldn’t they? She was good-natured and adaptable. She had also embraced their way of life which proved to them that it was superior to the merpeople’s. At times she walked down to the little cove and sat on the very same rock where the prince’s message bottle had smashed.

Because she looked and behaved like a human, and did not express what she felt, no-one, not even the prince who loved her so much, even considered she might not be happy.

Why was she not happy?

Humans lived in boxes that were, like them, rigid and inflexible. She had willingly traded her expression and singing voice for the prince’s love and acceptance by his people. She had grown to understand them, but they didn’t understand her. Her experience had been far removed from the reality of the people who surrounded her. The prince was so taken up with the affairs of the kingdom to pay attention to her. Neither the prince nor his family knew of the bargain she’d made with the Sea Witch.

Over the years her feet hurt more and more, and walking became an effort. One day she managed to get herself to the little cove once again and sat on the old rock. She missed gliding effortlessly through the water, and the sensation of freedom and lightness that she would never experience again. She thought of her father who had travelled a lot among humans and even though he had admired their ways, he had never wanted to become one of them but always returned to the comfort of his merland. She remembered how sad he had been when she left.

There was a flapping of wings, and Sisi the seagull, her dear old friend, landed next to her.

“Oh Sisi, we haven’t met up for ages!” she cried. “Tell me the news of the merkingdom and your own.”

He cleared his throat and started talking of this and that. He was a most talkative bird, and went off on tangents all the time. Then he’d say, “where was I? Oh yes!” and he’d pick up the thread where he’d left off. After about an hour of chattering, Sisi paused at last. “What about you? You don’t seem very happy.”

The Little Mermaid needed little encouragement to pour out her heart to him. She’d missed hearing merlanguage spoken and the company of someone who had known her since her mermaid days. She told him about the bargain with the Sea Witch.

While she spoke, he looked at her intently.

“My dear Little Mermaid, in all the years I’ve been flying over the merkingdom and the human kingdom I have never ever heard of such a thing as a Sea Witch - well, I’ve heard the stories they tell about her, but she’s not real! Are you quite sure you have seen her? And you say you’ve made a bargain with her? So much time has passed - are you sure you remember correctly?”

The Little Mermaid nodded; she was absolutely sure. “I have visited her cave beyond the coral reef – you know the one we were told never to go when I played with my friends?”

“Oh yes, I know the cave…well, tell you what. Even though I am sure this cave is deserted, I will investigate and come back here to report back next week. Same time?”

The Little Mermaid nodded yes. Sisi flew off.

She was lost in thought. By now she’d lived among humans for decades. She had agreed not to sing or express her feelings, but her natural curiosity had not been part of the bargain. She’d taken to observing the life of humans, their customs and beliefs, the way they spoke to each other, their courtly manners. At times, she pointed out their follies, a pursuit that prevented her from seeing her own.

True to his word, Sisi returned to the little cove. “As I’d thought. I sent a trusted messenger to swim beyond the coral reef to the Witch’s Cave, but there was nobody there – certainly no Sea Witch or any traces of her. She may have been only a legend told to merchildren to keep them out of mischief and harm’s way; after all, swimming beyond the coral reef is dangerous for meryoungsters, and parents can’t keep an eye on them all the time, can they. Well, today’s youngsters are even worse than what your generation was – you just can’t keep tabs on them. I don’t know what the world is coming to…”

“Nothing?” the Little Mermaid interrupted him. “How can this be? I can’t just have imagined it!”

“Well…I can only tell you what my trusted messenger said. Oh, and another thing! He pulled this out from under the sand on the floor of the cave. As soon as I saw it, I recognised it as your voice amulet. You used to wear it when we had our lessons exactly here. I remember how I felt the water vibrate with your song as you were coming.”

He pulled out the Little Mermaid’s old sodalite amulet from under his wing.

The Little Mermaid couldn’t believe her eyes. She had almost forgotten how her voice amulet pulsated in tune with her underwater voice and her mermaid heart, but the memory now resurfaced. She clearly remembered handing it over to the Sea Witch and never thought she would see it again. But if there were no Sea Witch, like Sisi said, who did she hand it over to?

If it turns out there is – there never was – a Sea Witch: does this mean, there is no pact and no bargain to stick to?

She slipped the amulet over her neck. As she breathed in the amulet began to vibrate. When she had gills instead of lungs, the amulet vibrated at a slower, deeper resonance. The sensation now was different, faster and lighter through the air, but clearly felt as before.

She turned to Sisi. “You’ve been my oldest and most trusted friend, Sisi. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“We may not have seen each other for years and years, but we have always been good friends,” Sisi said. Whatever the Sea Witch has or hasn’t been, she holds no power over you anymore. Wear your voice amulet with pride from now on and learn how your beautiful voice vibrates through the air. You still have the need and the urge to express yourself, so do it! No time like the present, and there is no reason why not. It may take some time, but you’ll get there.”

And with the promise to check up on her now and then, he fluttered off and soared through the air.

The Little Mermaid sat on her rock, deep in thought. The Prince and his people had always known her as one of them. What would it be like if she began to change? But then again, change happens all the time: she thought of how happy she was when she first moved to the human kingdom, and how that changed gradually. At times she felt that what she had gained through the bargain (non-existent now?) was no good anymore. The Prince seemed so indifferent, she wondered whether he even loved her anymore. Over the years, her legs and feet began to feel more and more painful. Gravity, which humans are used to and feel no discomfort from, weighted heavier and heavier on her hips. How light and smooth she had glided through the water that had buoyed her and given her life! In her world, water had been both what earth and air is for humans.

One day the one hip gave way, soon after the other. She could not walk down to the little cove anymore and was confined to her opulent suite in the palace. Sitting by the window looking out to the sea, she would sometimes try out what her voice sounded as it travelled through the air, towards the sea and home. But most of the time she would think, as she had done a lot over the years. It had been easier to think rather than to feel. Since she had not allowed herself to express her feelings, she found it easier not to feel them either – or to pretend not to – and to replace them with rational thinking. But over time the deep pain in her heart manifested in physical pain which she tried, or pretended, not to feel. Pain had become such a part of her life that she did not notice it anymore until it was too big to hide or ignore.

The Prince finally had no option but to see her suffering and in pain. He couldn’t bear it. He looked for the best doctor in all the realm and brought him into the palace to heal her. It took a long time and more pain. During the time of convalescence, she faced up to the bargain she had made, not with the Sea Witch, but with her own self.

She had made it so she would break it.

Eventually her hips healed. Now that she could walk again, she asked the Prince to a day out to the little cove, the very place where his message bottle had smashed and where they had met for the first time. He took the day out from his busy schedule, and they walked down together. They sat side-by-side on the rock, looking out to the sea.

To him, the sea was his beloved’s birthplace, but remained a strange, unfamiliar place he would only visit for a short time. To her, the sea was the real home where her heart was, but where she would never belong again. The Prince had been dearly bought, and she still loved him dearly.

The wind was picking up, whipping up waves that rose up, crested and broke by their feet. Sisi appeared from the promontory and flew around them in big circles. bShe began to speak.

One by one, all the disappointments, the hurts, the longing, the pain and the discomfort of decades came tumbling out, rising and bursting, one after the other.

The Prince listened carefully and with a lot of surprise. He had never known.

“Why didn’t you ever say you were unhappy?” he asked. “I love you, so I should have noticed. But I was so taken up with the affairs of the kingdom that I never did. I thought that since we loved each other and you lived comfortably, you would be happy.”

She couldn’t speak any more. A sob broke out, crested and burst, then another and another. They sat like this, she crying, he holding her in his arms silently.

Hours later, the wind had spent itself. The sea – that very same sea that had whipped up the high waves and sent them crashing to the shore – was now calm as the surface of oil. The Sea had reminded the Little Mermaid and shown the Prince Her power. She – for the sea is feminine in her elemental power – was seen and witnessed and then calmed down.

When she was finally able to speak, the Little Mermaid, for a long time not little and no longer a mermaid, said: “I am not a Little Mermaid anymore. The lungs I have had for so long work with air that becomes breath that creates a higher vibration and a different song. Even if I can never live among the merpeople anymore, I can always sing my longing, and send my song towards the sea.”

Sisi smiled and circled around them once more, then flapped his wings and flew off towards the little church.

She began to sing the Sea Song. The Prince listened, for the first time, and wondered at how he had never heard this song before.

And she sang and he listened contentedly ever after.

The heart meets the (left) hand in an embrace of imperfection

With my very best wishes for new voices in the new year.