Reading Notes: American Indian Fairy Tales, Part B

How the Summer Came

I love the idea of the summer world being above the winter world. It's like heaven, but more tangible and obtainable. I like imagining how the people would have reacted to seeing summer for the first time. In fact, this story would probably lend itself well to a sequel about the boy celebrating summer and mourning the loss of his father.

I was surprised at the boy's priorities. His father told him it would be very dangerous, but the boy seemed to care more about getting summer than keeping his father around. Selfless or selfish? It's hard to say, because the father changed the world forever and brought so many joy to many people, which is selfless, and the son being willing to give up his father for the greater good is selfless from that perspective. At the same time, though, who would willingly send their (good, loving) father to sacrifice himself?

I liked the details about cracking the ceiling of the sky open. I wonder what that would look and sound like. Also, isn't the sky summer world now the same as the lower world? Why would the sky people seal up their floor if both worlds now have summer? Did they not want winter to reach them? Is there a finite amount of summer, or can it be shared with another world without losing any of it?

I like that animals worked with the hunter to bring summer into the world. I also like that the animals knew about the summer world before humans did. I felt like animals were respected and even treated as equals in this story; it's a great perspective and very different from most Western cultures.

Newfoundland pine marten. The hunter in this story could change himself into a marten at will.

Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Bibliography: American Indian Fairy Tales by W. T. Larned. Link to the reading online.

Reading Notes: American Indian Fairy Tales, Part A

Venus, the evening star, over the Pacific Ocean. 

Source: Wikimedia Commons.

The Child of the Evening Star

The first thing that struck me in this story was Oweenee, beautiful and quiet, walking alone in the woods with a sweet and dreamy expression and refusing every suitor. I really like her for that - she is sweet and gentle but strong in standing up for what she wants. She pretends to reject everyone for superficial reasons, maybe because she knows her family won't understand her, but she really rejects them because she sees flaws in their hearts.

When I found out that Osseo was actually a young and handsome prince, I was a little disappointed because I felt that the moral of the story was ruined by making Oweenee's husband beautiful when she was supposed to only care about the heart and not looks. I was surprised when she turned into an old woman, and I like that plot twist because her reaction to her transformation shows that she really doesn't care about superficial things.

I was also surprised that Oweenee's sisters and their husbands were not at all upset to be turned into birds. I guess that says something about their personalities, and there is probably supposed to be a parallel between the chatter of birds and the chatter of the sisters.

An evil magician was introduced, but nothing ever came of it, which surprised me. I thought that Oweenee's son would accidentally attract or get hit by the magician.

I liked that the son had a longing for earth. I found the description of him stretching his hands toward the earth as other children stretch their hands toward the moon or stars very beautiful. I wonder if Oweenee missed her home like that, too.

I was worried that the son would be separated from his parents, so I was relieved to find that at the end they all ended up together, and Oweenee and Osseo seemed happy to be back on earth. I wish the story had included details about what they learned on the Evening Star that they wanted to share with the people of earth.

Bibliography: American Indian Fairy Tales by W. T. Larned. Link to the reading online.

Week 10 Story: Cody and the Growing Bed

Every child, sooner or later, reaches an age where he or she simply refuses to go to bed. The most popular antidote to this problem is the bedtime story. Young Cody had just reached this ripe old age, and he demanded a story from his mother each night. Of course, she didn't mind. She loved to tell stories to Cody, although it was getting harder to find new ones each night.

One day, she came across a very old story from the Native American people of Yosemite Valley. She couldn't wait to tell it to her son, because it featured two young boys around his age. After getting him settled into bed (with much difficulty) she cleared her throat, put on her most theatrical voice, and began.

"Once upon a time, long long ago, there lived two little boys named Wody and Shmody," she declared. Cody giggled and made a face at the names, but he was very happy for the characters to be named after him.

"Wody and Shmody loved to swim in the river by their home, and they especially loved to lie out in the warm sun after a long day of swimming. Sometimes they were so tired from playing and so comfortable on the sunny rock that they would fall asleep. One day, the boys slept for so long that the rock grew and grew up to the sky with them still on it! They were so fast asleep that they had no idea they were getting farther and farther from earth."

Cody smiled at the boys' foolishness, imagining what it would be like to wake up in the sky.

"The boys' parents missed them very much, and they asked for help from all the nearby animals to get them down from the rock. The rabbit went to the rock and jumped as high as she could, but the rock was too high for her. The grizzly bear went to the rock and jumped as high as he could, but still the boys were too high up. Even the lion and the kangaroo jumped, but they couldn't make it either. The parents cried and cried, but then they noticed a tiny worm crawling up the side of the rock. It crawled  until it was out of sight, and when it came back, it held the boys on its back."

Cody was quite young, but he knew that worms were too small to carry boys on their backs. He laughed and laughed at such a silly idea, and his laughs got softer and slower until he fell asleep.

Hours later, Cody woke up shivering. He opened his eyes and was surprised to see only a twinkling black surrounding him, rather than his familiar nightlight. Looking down, he saw his house and yard getting smaller and smaller. He could just barely make out a hole in the middle of the roof, and suddenly he realized that his bed was growing taller and had smashed through the ceiling! 

Too curious to be panicked, Cody scooted to the edge of his bed to get his bearings. He saw that the trees were already far below him, and even the skyscrapers out in the distance were not quite as high as he was! He was filled with excitement to be so far above the world, but he began to grow very cold and wished to return to his warm room.

"Perhaps a worm will come rescue me," he thought, remembering the bedtime story. He waited very patiently (as patiently as a boy his age can, anyway) and even peered over the side of his bed to look for a sign of his rescuer. He saw no worm. Patience does not last long in young people, so little Cody decided to take matters into his own hands.

As he tried to think of a plan, his bed continued to grow. He was so high that he could see stars all around him! "Stars," he called to them, "My bed has been growing all night, and I would like to go back home, but I don't know how. Can you help me, please?"

The star nearest him beamed with concern and called back, "Just hop off our backs, like trampolines! We will be able to help you down safely part of the way. But we don't go all the way down, so you'll have to get help from someone else after a while."

Cody was grateful for the star's help and could see no better option, so he took a daring leap off his bed and onto the star's back. It was very bouncy, and he jumped down diagonally from star to star, whooping with joy all the way.

Suddenly, he saw no more stars below him and grew very scared. But the last star noticed his predicament, and she called out to her cloud friend. "Cloud," she said, "please help this boy get down to earth. Hurry, catch him!" 

The cloud whooshed over to the boy. "Just flop down on my back and I will float you down as far as I can," she said. Cody spread himself out and landed on the cloud, marveling at how soft and comfortable it was.

The cloud carried the boy for a long time but reached a point where she couldn't go any farther. "I know!" she said. "I will rain, and you can grab onto one of my droplets to reach the ground." 

Cody grabbed onto the droplet, and although it was very slippery, he managed to hold onto it until his feet touched the familiar grass of his backyard. Exhausted, elated from the adventure, and grateful to be home, he went inside and found his bed returned to normal and the hole in his ceiling fixed. 

"I sure have a good bedtime story to tell Mom tomorrow night," he thought as he drifted back to sleep.

Author's Note: This story is a retelling of "The Legend of Tu-Tok-A-Nu'-La (El Capitan)," a Native American story from Yosemite Valley. The original story tells how the rock Tu-Tok-A-Nu'-La (also called El Capitan) was formed. The bedtime story that the mother tells in my story follows the exact same plot as the original story. I thought it would be a nice bedtime story because of the fantastical nature of the growing rock and the worm as a rescuer. I made up the boy's dream, wondering what would happen if there was no worm to rescue him off the growing rock (or bed, in his case). I thought that maybe instead of animals going up to rescue him, inanimate objects already up in the sky could help the boy get down.

Bibliography: "The Legend of Tu-Tok-A-Nu'-La (El Capitan)" from Myths and Legends of California and the Old Southwest by Katharine Berry Judson. Link to the reading online.

Image Information: View of Newark, New Jersey, from airplane. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Reading Notes: California and the Old Southwest, Part B

Tu-Tok-A-Nu'-La (El Capitan) 

Yosemite Valley

Two young boys play in the river and then climb up onto a rock to sleep in the sun. They sleep so well (and, apparently, for so long) that the rock grows and grows upward until they can't come down.

I like that the measuring worm, who is the underdog when it comes to jumping, is the one that rescues the boys with his diligent crawling. I wonder how he was able to bring the boys down from the rock, because it's not like they could have gone on his back! The story doesn't explain this which kind of bothered me. I also wonder whether the worm received praise or retaliation for outdoing the lion and the grizzly bear.

Navajo women with sheep. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

The Boy Who Became a God

Navajo (New Mexico)

I like that the boy is patient when his brothers don't believe his stories, and he eventually proves that he was always telling the truth. I wonder whether his brothers were a little jealous because of his stories or whether they simply didn't believe them at all. 

Why did the brothers leave the youngest one (the one who tells stories) at the camp while they went to hunt? Is it because they thought he was crazy or just because he was too young?

The boy's story was indeed strange. The crows danced and sang, and even the god Hasjelti spoke there. The crows discussed the killing of twelve deer and two crows by humans, which is what proved the boy's story to his brothers later.

What caused the brother-in-law to believe the boy when no one else did?

The boy goes off with sheep who are really gods and learns to dance and sing in a certain way. I thought it was interesting that his brothers blamed themselves and their disbelief for his absence, when to me it seemed like he went because the gods told him to, and no one would turn down a journey with the gods. 

I was happy that the boy returned to his brothers and gave them lessons and material things from his journey. The story might be more interesting if he faced conflict on his journey or on the way back. Also, I wonder what it was like for him to be a sheep!

Bibliography: Myths and Legends of California and the Old Southwest by Katharine Berry Judson. Link to the reading online.

Reading Notes: California and the Old Southwest, Part A

"Spider's Creation"

I found it interesting that there are multiple "levels" of creation in this story. First, Sussistinnako the spider creates women from parcels, and then these women were the mothers of all people and created the sun and moon themselves.

One of my favorite details is the spider creating two parcels, setting them down, and singing, and then the parcels rattling on their own to the rhythm of his song and forming women.

I thought it was very insightful of the Sia people to include non-Native American people in their story. Many creation stories only speak of the society that came up with the story, so I was surprised that one of the two women from the parcels, who is also one of the creators of the sun and moon, was mentioned as the mother of all non-Native American people.

Another favorite detail is the construction of the sun and moon. The women used natural materials such as shell and stone and got the sun moving by dropping it off a mountain. The sun, a male being, wears a mask in this story, which is not really explained but is an interesting detail.

I also really like the idea of star people with their twinkling eyes!

Bibliography: Myths and Legends of California and the Old Southwest by Katharine Berry Judson.
Link to the reading online.

Zia Dancer. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Week 9 Story: The Fisherman and the Mermaid

Life as a fisherman is difficult and unpredictable, especially for those who can catch only enough to support their family. For these fisherman, a simple mistake can put their wives and children in danger of starvation. Perhaps this will explain why, when he dropped the bulk of his catch in the murky Gulf of Guinea, a certain fisherman made the daring decision to dive down and look for it underwater.

Struggling to keep his eyes open in the water, he dove down and down until he thought he would have to resign and come up for air. Suddenly, though, a sweet note of music shot through the deep waters like a ray of sunlight. Enraptured by the sound, he forgot about oxygen for just a moment, which was long enough to push deeper underwater and break through a barrier into fresh air.

Stunned, relieved to breathe again, and a little unsure of whether he was dead or alive, the fisherman almost became deaf to the music encircling him. But when he regained his senses, he looked down to see the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen singing with a voice like honey.

He slowly floated down, closer to the mermaid. She had green eyes and green hair that extended in many directions like seaweed. She held a lyre, which she strummed softly as she sang, tilting her head and occasionally closing her eyes.

Mermaid. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

The mermaid’s song was unintelligible to the man. He wondered if mermaids had their own language and whether they would be able to speak. As if to answer his question, she ended her song and said, “You’ve been listening to my song for a long time now. It is time for you to ascend again, but I will be happy to share my music at your next visit. However, you must promise never to tell anyone else about me.”

The fisherman could only nod, so enchanted and shocked was he by the mermaid. She pointed toward a golden staircase, which he used to return to his boat. Forgetting all about his lost catch, he paddled to shore in a trance.

After their first encounter, the fisherman came back every day to see the mermaid. He would boldly jump out of his boat and into the water, swimming down as fast as he could until he heard the music and felt the sweet relief of air in his lungs. Every day as he left, she would remind him of her request that he never speak of her to others.

The mermaid was very kind to sing for the fisherman day after day. She preferred to sing for herself and didn’t want a spectacle to be made of her, but she generously shared her voice, sometimes for hours each day.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the fisherman to take the mermaid’s gift for granted. He began to stay for longer and longer, and he expected the music rather than asking for it. In his greed for her music, he started to worry that she wouldn’t always be in their spot, ready to sing for him. One day, he hid a chain and key under his shirt and quickly chained her to the staircase while her eyes were closed in song.

As he ascended the staircase, she grabbed his ankle and said, “I will not be your show pony. I sing because there is a song in my heart, but if you take away my freedom and try to control me, I will no longer be able to sing. Please let me go.”

The fisherman replied, “You’ve sung for me all these days and you’ll continue to. I feel as if I’ll die without your voice; you can’t take away your song now.”

After that, the mermaid only sang because the fisherman forced her to. Her eyes grew dimmer with each note, and the joyous beauty that made her song so enchanting was gone, although the fisherman refused to acknowledge this.

Even with the mermaid in chains and singing constantly, the fisherman was still unsatisfied. Despite his promise to her, he wanted to show off his mermaid to his friends. One day, he boasted to them that he had his very own mermaid who sang in a foreign language at his command. Of course, none of his friends believed him, but he offered to take them out on his boat and let them see for themselves.

The mermaid, who now never sang for herself, heard many voices above her and realized that the fisherman had broken his promise – her only request. Suddenly, she was no longer forlorn and lifeless, but filled with more anger than she had ever felt. I gave so much of myself, she thought, and I only asked for one thing! But it wasn’t enough to listen to my music; he had to own it.

The men jumped into the water, some more hesitantly than others, and began to follow the fisherman deeper underwater. But before they could reach the fresh air, a storm started to blow. The water swirled wildly, blurring the men’s vision and sweeping them left and right.

“He’s crazy!” shouted one of the men. “He brought us out here so we would all drown together!” Startled, and with the wind pushing them down, the men scrambled for the boat. Believing that the fisherman was trying to kill them, they kept him out of the boat and paddled toward shore.

The storm grew greater and greater in intensity, and the fisherman could not stay afloat. He gasped for air, but the waves pushed him farther and farther down. As he drew his final breath, he heard a sweet voice singing in his language, the mermaid’s last gift to him:

Nothing is ever enough for woman or for man

They’re never content to observe, but always have a plan

To control, to own, to make their own,

Which is why they always end up alone.

Author's Note: This story is based on a West African folktale called "The Hunter and the Tortoise," which is about a hunter who finds a singing tortoise. She sings the same lyrics over and over: "It is man who forces himself on things/Not things which force themselves on him." He comes back to hear her song many times, and eventually he convinces her to come back to his house and sing for him there. She only asks that he will not tell anyone about her. He tells the people of his village about his tortoise, and when they don't believe him, he bets his life that he can prove his claims. He brings the turtle to a gathering the next day against her will, and she does not sing. After the villagers kill the man, she speaks. The people are horrified that they killed an honest man, but the tortoise explains that he brought his death upon himself by taking her from her home and denying her one request, none of which he had to do. I changed the main characters to a fisherman and a mermaid, and I changed the circumstances of the fisherman's death. I also slightly modified the moral of the story: I took "It is man who forces himself on things" to mean that people tend to make the mistake of forcing themselves on others, which has disastrous consequences for everyone involved. I focused more on the aspect of control and manipulation and less on the idea that we make our own consequences.

Bibliography: "The Hunter and the Tortoise" from West African Folktales by William H. Barker and Cecilia Sinclair. Link to the reading online.

Reading Notes: West Africa, Part B

The Hunter and the Tortoise

I really like the moral of this story: we tend to force ourselves on things and people, and the consequences are because of our own forcing and manipulation. I think most people and relate to and learn from this lesson because humans often try to control others, even if they're not explicitly selfish.

I love the mental picture of a little tortoise singing and playing the harp! It makes me laugh!

Like in the story I wrote about yesterday, this story deals with someone who takes advantage of a kind and selfless helper. The tortoise agrees to sing for the hunter, even going to his hut with him, and doesn't ask for the hunter to do anything in return. All she asks is that he keeps her singing a secret, and he can't even give her that. It's extremely frustrating when someone who is only trying to help is completely taken advantage of.

However, I do understand the hunter's desire to share his knowledge of the tortoise and to show her off. It is a human desire to have something beautiful for ourselves and show it off to others.

The tortoise is so sweet throughout the whole story, but she really gets the hunter in the end! I was surprised that she let the hunter be killed. It was a pretty harsh punishment, but I was proud of her for sticking up for herself when she was manipulated.

I like what the tortoise says about the hunter's need for more. She gave him plenty by offering to sing for him, but that wasn't enough for him and he brought her home with him. Then, her constant song in his home wasn't enough for him and he told everyone about her even though she told him not to. Eventually, he let his pride grow so large that he tried to force her to sing for the king like a show animal. Nothing the tortoise gave him could be enough, and he had to force himself on her more and more until it came time for him to pay.

The irony of the tortoise's song is beautiful. She sings the moral of the story over and over every day for the tortoise, and not only does he not hear the lesson, but he forces himself on the tortoise because he is so enraptured by the song.

Tortoise on a rock. Source: Public Domain Pictures.

Bibliography: West African Folktales by William H. Barker and Cecilia Sinclair. Link to the reading.

Reading Notes: West Africa, Part A

Why We See Ants Carrying Bundles As Big As Themselves

Worker ant carrying a leaf. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

There are three main parts to this story: Anansi's greed leading to destruction of a good thing, his attempt and failure to hide his wrongdoing, and his manipulation and trickery of a kind person. His selfishness and foolishness are exposed over and over in this story, even though he gets away with it at the end.

Even though Anansi sees how well his son's crops are doing, it's not enough for his crops to do just as well. He can't be happy with simply a successful harvest because he is so greedy, which is why he beats the dwarf harder than he should have.

The dwarf selflessly helped Kweku Tsin over and over, and he was willing to extend this same help to Anansi, and probably to anyone who asked for it. He didn't even ask for anything in return, but willingly gave of himself to help strangers. It makes me so mad that Anansi took advantage of and killed a man who only helped him, especially when there was no need for a bigger crop than Kweku's. 

I liked the trick that Kweku played on Anansi. I thought Kweku was going to get in huge trouble, but he knew that Anansi was up to something and took advantage of his greed to make him turn himself in.

There seems to be an idea of karma in many of these stories, and in this story karma is shown in the king's punishment for Anansi. I liked the idea of the wicked man carrying the man he killed forever. However, karma doesn't quite catch up to Anansi, because he passes the body off to a kind and helpful ant. 

Anansi has a habit of manipulating people who are kind and naïve. I think it's the worst type of person who takes advantage of those who try to help him!

Bibliography: West African Folktales by William H. Barker and Cecilia Sinclair. Link to the reading.

Week 8 Progress

Overall, I'm happy with my progress in this class so far. I look forward to the reading, I've learned to enjoy the writing, and I like where my project is going. My schedule for the reading is good, but as I discussed in my "Week 8 Reading and Writing" post, I usually leave the story for Thursday evening, which creates a bit of stress and sometimes causes me to post a story that I'm not proud of at all. Also, my Friday mornings are busier than I originally anticipated, so I end up doing the Friday assignments over the weekend, which is a bit of a pain. Also, when I do assignments at the last minute, I don't have the time or mental energy to fix things as I go, so I think the quality of my work would improve if I gave myself a little extra time.

I think the most important thing I can do to aid my progress in this class is to set aside time on Wednesday and Friday to stick to my original schedule and hold myself to it. I still like that schedule, because Wednesday is not a busy day for me and I have a couple hours Friday afternoon to do some work. Perhaps if I don't go home right away on Friday and instead head to the library after my last class, I'll be able to complete at least 2/3 of the assignments that I'm currently doing on the weekend.

Autumn day. Source: Pixabay.

The weather right now is a huge motivation for me to push through the semester, because fall is my favorite season!

Week 8 Comments and Feedback

Feedback tells you that you can go higher. 

Source: Growth Mindset Resources.

This cat is a great reminder that we should have a growth mindset rather than a fixed mindset when we receive feedback, whether positive or negative. When we receive feedback, we shouldn't let it make us feel low, but instead it should inspire us to go higher and give us a path on which to do that!

So far, I've had a great experience receiving feedback from other students in the class. I like that the story comments are more social, so I get to hear what people appreciated about the story. I do think about what people have said they liked when I write my stories. It's nice to know that someone is reading my story each week, and I think that pushes me to put more effort into my writing. I wish that I was getting more constructive criticism on my project, as most of the comments have been more social and purely positive. I do really appreciate hearing that I'm on the right track, but sometimes I'm not sure what I want to change and what's working for people, so I hope that as my project continues I'll get more constructive feedback.

I've put a fair amount of effort into the comments I give other people, and for the project I try to give an idea for something to add or expand upon, even if I thought the introduction/story was nearly perfect. I enjoy reading other people's projects more than I thought I would, because my classmates have been so creative with their Storybook ideas and their Portfolio stories! I especially like reading the Storybooks because people have come up with some very interesting and unique topics.

I don't feel like I know anyone in this class very well, just because we don't see each other and it's a big class, but I've started to recognize certain names, and I associate those names with their introduction. It's fun to go to someone's project or weekly story and realize that I've read their introduction and already know something about them! I'm pretty happy with my introduction post and the comments on it. I talked about why I'm a biochemistry major in the introduction, and people often comment on that. Those comments are a nice weekly boost of motivation for when classes are hard, ha ha!

I might add a sentence to my comment wall that encourages constructive criticism and ideas to help me move forward in my project. I want to let people know that I really do want to know what's not working for them and what they'd like to see more of!

Week 8 Reading and Writing

I have been really enjoying the reading assignments so far. Other than this class, I am only taking STEM classes, so it is a nice break to read stories. Now that the weather has cooled down, I've been sitting outside to do the reading, so I usually look forward to it and it doesn't feel like an assignment.

My favorite readings so far have been "Cupid and Psyche" and the Japanese mythology unit. I liked Cupid and Psyche because it's an interesting story with a fun plot, and it created beautiful and unique mental pictures for me. Also, a couple years ago I read Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis, so I enjoyed comparing this story to Lewis's retelling. I enjoyed the Japanese mythology unit because I thought it was beautifully written. I especially loved the first story in the unit, "Izanagi and Izanami," because it describes the creation of the world so artistically and lyrically. It illustrates the birth of the world and all the gods and goddesses by two flowers shooting upwards and downwards, which I just love.

My reading notes have been pretty helpful. I think the act of writing them helps more than the actual notes themselves, because I don't rely on them very heavily while writing the story each week. I use them as sort of a brain-storming session, where I write a sentence or two about aspects of the story that interested me. Later, when I plan the story, I look back and choose one or two aspects that I want to expand on in my story. I think this system has been working pretty well, because it gives me a reminder of what struck me while I read, which gives me a starting place for my retelling.

It has been surprisingly nice to practice writing, since I haven't written anything nonfictional since I was a kid. I especially enjoyed writing the poem that I wrote for the Jataka unit, because I hadn't even attempted to write a poem of any sort since childhood. The writing feels like work more than the reading does, which I think is because I usually am not forced to be creative, and I have a harder time grinding through work when it requires creativity. Once I have an idea for the story and am in the act of writing it, though, it can be quite fun!

I think that the writing aspect of this class is where I need to look forward the most. It would be more enjoyable if I wasn't always writing the story Thursday night, up against the deadline. One recent week, I wrote the story Thursday morning, which worked well for me because I had a chance to look it over one more time in the evening and then turn it in with no stress. It would be even better if I could do the story on Wednesday, especially since my Wednesdays are much less busy than my Thursdays anyway. I think if I set aside an hour on Wednesday to work on the story, I would have an even more positive experience with my stories.

I am very happy with my project so far. I'm really interested in selkie stories, and I think they're very beautiful. My Storybook has a plan that I like, so I don't feel stressed about continuing with the project.

The Great Wave off Kanagawa, woodblock print by Hokusai.

Source: Wikipedia.

This is one of my favorite images that I've used because of the sheer beauty of it. I love the muted colors (they remind me of a rainy day) and the "claws" of the waves. I think it illustrates the beauty that I saw in the Japenese mythologies that I read last week.

Week 7 Story: Izanami and Tacibana

"Matsu no shima in Night Rain" by Kawase Hasui.

Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Tacibana glanced at her watch and was surprised to find that it was almost 2 in the afternoon. It was difficult for her to keep track of the time, even after all these millennia, because the land of Yomi receives no sunlight. Living (used loosely here, for Tacibana and all her neighbors were long-dead) in the underworld wasn’t so bad once she got used to it, but she never stopped missing the sun.

Although she hadn’t slept since her earthly life, she often lounged on the silk sheets of her bed, as she was doing now. She raised herself up until she was vertical, her feet hovering just above the wooden floor, and started toward the library.

The spirits, both mortal women and goddesses, were beginning to drift into the conference room. When Tacibana reached the front entrance of the library, she turned and glided down to join the gathering group. The white-walled room was rather quiet, as are most places in the land of the dead, with only whispering voices and the occasional soft whoosh as two spirits brushed past each other.

Tacibana lowered herself onto a chair and looked across the circle. Quickly she put her head down, her pale cheeks somehow flushed despite her lack of blood. She glanced up again and confirmed it to herself: the famous goddess Izanami was really here, at her support group! What problems could the co-creator of the world have? wondered Tacibana.

The group had been meeting for a few centuries – quite recent for Yomi standards. The women, wronged by their loved ones in life and still holding onto the pain that should have been let go of at their death, met monthly to talk to and support each other in their various griefs. So why was Izanami, the most beautiful and life-giving force in any realm, here?

“I am here because, like all of you, I was deeply hurt by my loved ones,” sang out Izanami. “But I was hurt not just by my loved ones, but by my very own children. And not only was I hurt by my children, I was hurt by them because my love was too great. The ever-expanding love I felt, and feel, for my Earth Children caused me shame among my God Children, and that is what I cannot let go of. To be shamed for my loving actions, to be exiled for selflessness…I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it.”

Silence fell upon the group, and many women nodded solemnly, but none more solemnly than Tacibana, who knew the pain of being outcast for her love and self-sacrifice.

Izanami took the silence as a beckoning to explain herself. She went on, “From the beginning I was there. Izanagi and I came from blossoming flowers, and we descended to walk around the Pillar of the Earth. By him I gave birth to the Earth and to all its gods and people; I crafted and released the mountains and rivers and dirt. I gave all of myself for the world. And I loved my God Children and my Earth Children so intensely that I wanted each to have everything. But when I asked my God Children to use their dominion to aid my Earth Children, they exiled me. I was cast out, down to Earth, where I bore two more children and died alone. I did everything I could for all my children, and I was sent to my death because I loved too much. It’s difficult to know whether I made the right choice by being ever-loving and self-sacrificial, for my less charitable children are still reigning today.”

“I question my choices in the same way, my goddess,” ventured Tacibana. “I gave everything, even my life, for my husband, even though for much of our marriage he was unfaithful and even hateful to me. The image of our life together is me running toward him through fire, the ends of my hair singed and my skin black from the flames, tearing off my burning clothes and carrying his sword.”

Tacibana stopped for a moment, remembering that day. Her husband had been away with his army, but because of her great devotion to him she could sense that he was in trouble. She had grabbed his sword off its hooks and run through the night to him. When she arrived, the whole campsite was in flames, but she ran through them to her beloved. As he cut the grass with the sword to push back the fire, she had been elated, thinking that finally he would see her value and his infidelities would cease.

“And the next day, he sent me home because my skin and hair made me hideous in his sight. And he went off to see his siren lover. That’s the image of our marriage.”

Izanami looked her up and down. “And you sacrificed yourself for this man? Do you regret it?” she asked.

Tacibana looked back at her. “No,” she said. “No, I don’t think so. The memory is painful to me and I hate that our marriage is summed up in such a horrible story, but I’m proud of what I did for my husband. I find my strength in my forgiveness and devotion. When I first arrived here in Yomi, I wondered whether I had made the right choice, sacrificing myself for someone who never would have done so for me. But I am not weak because of my great love; I am strong because of it. To love over and over again after each wrongdoing is strength. My husband was weak, but I was strong for the both of us. And in the underworld, my strength keeps me going more than earthly justice could. Yes, I am happy to call my love too great for Earth.”

Author’s Note: This story is a retelling of a series of stories in Japanese mythology. In “Izanami and Izanagi,” the goddess Izanami gives birth to all the world and the beings in it, but she is exiled from the heavens because the gods resent her love for her Earth Children. She dies on Earth shortly after her exile. In “The Grass-Cleaving Sword,” a mortal character named Tacibana runs through fire to deliver a sacred sword to her husband, Yamato. He saves himself and his army with this sword, but the next day (in the story “The Sacred Sword”) he sends Tacibana home because he thinks she is ugly due to the effects of the fire on her hair and body. Later, in “The Dragon,” Tacibana gives up her life as a sacrifice so that he can continue to live. I was outraged by Yamato’s treatment of Tacibana. He cheats on her throughout their marriage and is constantly annoyed by her despite her sweet devotion to him. I could not believe that he found her scorched skin and hair ugly, when they so directly proved her love for him! I saw a pattern in the stories of Izanami and Tacibana: they were hurt and rejected because of their self-sacrificial love. I decided to write a story in which they meet and discuss their struggles and whether it is good or bad to practice self-sacrificial love.

Bibliography: "Izanami and Izanagi," "The Grass-Cleaving Sword," "The Sacred Sword," and "The Dragon" from The Romance of Old Japan by E. W. Champney and F. Champney. Link to the reading online.