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A Legend of Frau Holle – Storytelling for Everyone

Northern European Goddess

In some Scandinavian traditions, Frau Holle is known as the feminine spirit of the woods and plants, and was honored as the sacred embodiment of the earth and land itself. It is said that when Frau Holle shakes out her mattresses, white feathers fall to the earth as snow. A feast is held in her honor each winter by many people in the Germanic countries.

GERMAN FOLKTALE

There was once a widow who had two daughters—one of whom was pretty and industrious, while the other was ugly and idle. But she was much fonder of the ugly and idle one, because she was her own daughter; and the other, who was a step-daughter, was obliged to do all the work in the house. Every day the poor girl had to sit by a well, in the highway, and spin and spin till her fingers bled.

Now it happened that one day the shuttle was marked with her blood, so she dipped it in the well, to wash the mark off; but it dropped out of her hand and fell to the bottom. She began to weep, and ran to her step-mother and told of the mishap.

But she scolded her sharply, and was so merciless as to say, “Since you have let the shuttle fall in, you must fetch it out again.”

So the girl went back to the well, and did not know what to do; and in the sorrow of her heart she jumped into the well to get the shuttle. She lost her senses; and when she awoke and came to herself again, she was in a lovely meadow where the sun was shining and many thousands of flowers were growing.

Along this meadow she went, and at last came to a baker’s oven full of bread, and the bread cried out, “Oh, take me out! take me out! or I shall burn; I have been baked a long time!” So she went up to it, and took out all the loaves one after another with the bread-shovel.

After that she went on till she came to a tree covered with apples, which called out to her, “Oh, shake me! shake me! we apples are all ripe!” So she shook the tree till the apples fell like rain, and went on shaking till they were all down, and when she had gathered them into a heap, she went on her way.

At last she came to a little house, out of which an old woman peeped; but she had such large teeth that the girl was frightened, and was about to run away.

But the old woman called out to her, “What are you afraid of, dear child? Stay with me; if you will do all the work in the house properly, you shall be the better for it. Only you must take care to make my bed well, and to shake it thoroughly till the feathers fly—for then there is snow on the earth. I am Mother Holle.”

As the old woman spoke so kindly to her, the girl took courage and agreed to enter her service. She attended to everything to the satisfaction of her mistress, and always shook her bed so vigorously that the feathers flew about like snow-flakes. So she had a pleasant life with her; never an angry word; and boiled or roast meat every day.

She stayed some time with Mother Holle, and then she became sad. At first she did not know what was the matter with her, but found at length that it was homesickness; although she was many times better off here than at home, still she had a longing to be there.

At last she said to the old woman, “I have a longing for home; and however well off I am down here, I cannot stay any longer; I must go up again to my own people.” Mother Holle said, “I am pleased that you long for your home again, and as you have served me so truly, I myself will take you up again.”

Thereupon she took her by the hand, and led her to a large door. The door was opened, and just as the maiden was standing beneath the doorway, a heavy shower of golden rain fell, and all the gold remained sticking to her, so that she was completely covered with it.

“You shall have that because you are so industrious,” said Mother Holle; and at the same time she gave her back the shuttle which she had let fall into the well. Thereupon the door closed, and the maiden found herself up above upon the earth, not far from her mother’s house.

And as she went into the yard the cock cried: “Cock-a-doodle-doo! Your golden girl’s come back to you!”

So she went in to her mother, and as she arrived thus covered with gold, she was well received, both by her and her sister.

The girl told all that had happened to her; and as soon as the mother heard how she had come by so much wealth, she was very anxious to obtain the same good luck for the ugly and lazy daughter.

She had to seat herself by the well and spin; and in order that her shuttle might be stained with blood, she stuck her hand into a thorn-bush and pricked her finger. Then she threw her shuttle into the well, and jumped in after it.

She came, like the other, to the beautiful meadow and walked along the very same path. When she got to the oven the bread again cried, “Oh, take me out! take me out! or I shall burn; I have been baked a long time!” But the lazy thing answered, “As if I had any wish to make myself dirty!” and on she went.

Soon she came to the apple-tree, which cried, “Oh, shake me! shake me! we apples are all ripe!” But she answered, “I like that! one of you might fall on my head,” and so went on.

When she came to Mother Holle’s house she was not afraid, for she had already heard of her big teeth, and she hired herself to her immediately.

The first day she forced herself to work diligently, and obeyed Mother Holle when she told her to do anything, for she was thinking of all the gold that she would give her. But on the second day she began to be lazy, and on the third day still more so, and then she would not get up in the morning at all.

Neither did she make Mother Holle’s bed as she ought, and did not shake it so as to make the feathers fly up. Mother Holle was soon tired of this, and gave her notice to leave. The lazy girl was willing enough to go, and thought that now the golden rain would come.

Mother Holle led her, too, to the great door; but while she was standing beneath it, instead of the gold a big kettleful of pitch was emptied over her. “That is the reward of your service,” said Mother Holle, and shut the door.

So the lazy girl went home; but she was quite covered with pitch, and the cock by the well-side, as soon as he saw her, cried: “Cock-a-doodle-doo! Your pitchy girl’s come back to you.” But the pitch stuck fast to her, and could not be got off as long as she lived.

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Source: Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. Household tales by the Brothers Grimm. Translated by Margaret Hunt. London: George Bell and Sons, 1884.

Frau Holle is a similar pre-Christian goddess/witch to the Slavic forest witch, Baba Yaga.

Green Man Legends – Storytelling for Everyone

By Kitty Fields

Green Man mask by Lauren Raine 

The Green Man is a forest spirit steeped in folklore dating back hundreds (possibly thousands) of years. Sources say the Green Man legend originated in Europe; however, stories and evidence circulate worldwide. If you google “Green Man,” you’ll find a plethora of information on the Green Man motifs and sculptures found in gothic churches all over Europe. But there’s much more to the Green Man legend.

Is this forest god merely an old pagan legend or is he real? 

Green Man Legend: Pagan Origins

The first time I’d read about the Green Man, the legend grabbed my attention and didn’t let go. I’ve always had a fascination with forest spirits, fairies, and old gods but the Green Man holds a special place in my wild heart. The Green Man, while overlooked in modern times as a piece of garden art, was once a forest god to our pagan ancestors. He wasn’t just a forest god—he was the ultimate guardian of the forest.

Who is the Green Man?

The Green Man is an omnipresent, ancient guardian of the forest. He’s depicted as being a man with green skin and covered completely in foliage of various types. The most popular Green Man illustrations depict oak leaves and acorns, hawthorn leaves, and sometimes holly leaves and berries. Sometimes leaves spew from his mouth. He’s an ever-present symbol of rebirth, rejuvenation, and the life and death cycle of nature. His job is to keep the woods wild—to preserve the sanctity of the forest (plants, trees, rivers, and animals) threatened by our modern advancements.

Jack in the Green and the Burryman

There’s a theory that Green Man was once a central figure of May Day, in ancient Ireland called Beltane, a fire and fertility festival. While this theory is debated, we see a glimpse of the Green Man in the figure, Jack in the Green.

Jack in the Green is a man clothed in foliage and paraded in a procession on May Day in modern times. The tradition nearly died out but has seen a revival because of pagan and historical groups in England. While seemingly odd in modern times, in ancient times it was performed to ensure a bountiful crop.

A similar tradition in Scotland called the Burryman still exists, in which a man is covered in sticky burdock heads (called burries) and waltzed around town to ensure good luck for the coming year. And again, in Derbyshire, the Garland King is dressed all in flowers. The tradition of covering oneself in foliage isn’t a new idea.

Wild Men of the Woods

The Green Man myth mirrors various woodland creatures and gods. In fact, he may be the same or may have inspired the legends of other similar beings such as the Wild Men of the Woods (AKA woodwose, wodwose, wudwas), the horned god Cernunnos, and Greek forest spirits called fauns.

Wildmen of the Woods are forest beings whose origins are now somewhat shrouded in mystery—just like the Green Man. They were men who lived in the forest, covered in hair, with an otherworldly wisdom. Wildmen of the Woods might have once been pagan gods, demonized by the Christian church, who have fallen into the category of “folklore” after their cults disappeared under the pressure of conversion. With the Dark Ages, people were warned of going too deep into the woods for fear of encountering beasts, fairies, and wild men. Were these Wildmen of the Woods the German version of the Romans’ fauns? Were they the same as the Green Man?

Fauns and Cernunnos

Fauns are a Roman mythological creature mirroring the Wild Men of the Woods. The difference between the two was the faun’s goat-like features. The faun has goat legs, cloven hooves, and tail. But make no mistake—both were hairy beasts that lived in the forests. Both were feared and revered. Very similar to the Green Man (except the Green Man was covered in leaves instead of hair).

Cernunnos

I’d also like to point out the legend and cult of Cernunnos—the horned god of the Celts. Again, we have a being who was lord of the forest, who bore horns on his head whose evidence is seen all over Europe. I’m not the first to make the comparison between fauns and Cernunnos, nor am I the first to compare Cernunnos to the Green Man legend. For they all represent that primal, wild part of man who was once so deeply connected to nature. They all symbolize the untouched parts of the forest that refuse to be tamed. They are all fertile, virile creatures with a love for the wild. And while most of us see these beings as fantasy, they were once more than that.

Modern Green Man Sightings

There have been numerous green man sightings in modern times, leaving us to wonder if the Green Man is more than a mythical figure. A man in England recalls his Green Man sighting as a boy. He and his friends were putting up a swing in the woods, where he encountered a seven-foot-tall man with long hair cloaked in leaves. He believes this to be the Green Man and still has nightmares about it. There are those who believe Big Foot might also be the Green Man or at least in the same “family.” People who see Big Foot claim he’s covered in leaves. Is the Green Man legend or is he real?

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Source: https://otherworldlyoracle.com/green-man-legend-sightings/

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The History of the Three Bears – Storytelling for Everyone

British Folklore

The story of the Three Bears is a familiar one. A troublesome interloper breaks into the home of three bears. She samples food and breaks furniture before being sent on her way. But, did you know that the housebreaker was originally an old woman, not a little girl named Goldilocks? Or, that the first Three Bears were friends instead of Mama Bear, Papa Bear and Baby Bear?

The Three Bears started as an oral tale and was first written down almost 200 years ago. Over the decades, the story has changed and grown into the tale we know today. The Osborne Collection of Early Children’s Books has materials which reveal the history of The Three Bears story.

Eleanor Mure’s Manuscript

Eleanor Mure wrote the first recorded version of The Three Bears story in 1831. Osborne Collection has Mure’s original manuscript, a handmade book created as a gift for her nephew Horace Broke. The story is set at Cecil Lodge, the Mure family estate in Hertfordshire, England. Mure’s The Story of Three Bears (1831) is told in verse and illustrated with original watercolours.

Described as “the celebrated nursery tale,” the story was shared orally by Mure’s family long before she set it to paper. In Mure’s telling, the Bears are not a family. They are three friends who “fancy a home amongst the dwellings of men.” 

Instead of a little girl, the Bears’ house is invaded by an old woman. Mure’s old woman meets a bad end. As punishment for housebreaking, the Bears try to burn and drown the old woman. When nothing works, they “chuck her aloft on St. Paul’s church-yard steeple.”  

Robert Southey’s Published Story

In 1837, English poet Robert Southey released the first printed version of The Three Bears. The story appeared in Southey’s prose anthology The Doctor (1834-47). As with Mure’s family, The Three Bears was a popular story among Southey’s family. Southey likely heard The Three Bears from his uncle, William Tyler. Tyler was illiterate, but had a great memory for folktales. 

Southey’s story is the first version to discuss the Bears’ size. He introduces the Three Bears as Little, Small, Wee Bear; Middle Bear; and Great, Huge Bear. The story has no illustrations, but the Bears’ size is represented by typography. Great, Huge Bear speaks in large gothic letters. Little, Small, Wee Bear speaks in tiny italics.

Unlike Mure’s telling, the Southey’s bears do not punish the intruding old woman. Instead she makes an escape through an open window. Southey speculates that she might be “sent to the House of Correction” for vagrancy, or perhaps “she broke her neck in the fall.”

Southey’s The Three Bears was an instant hit. Within months publisher George Nicol released his own version of The Story of the Three Bears (1837). Nicol’s story was in verse, but otherwise was a direct retelling of Southey’s version.

A Girl with Metallic Hair

In early tellings of The Three Bears, the protagonist was an old woman. But in 1850, Joseph Cundall wrote the first retelling featuring a little girl. Cundall called his character Silver-Hair and justified the switch by saying “there are so many other stories of old women.” Published in A Treasury of Pleasure Books for Young Children (1850), Cundall’s retelling otherwise closely followed Southey’s version of The Three Bears.

Following Cundall’s publication, little girl protagonists named Silver-Hair became a common feature of The Three Bears retellings. The character was sometimes called Silver-Locks, Golden Hair and other variant names. 

Goldilocks Popularized

The name Goldilocks was first used for the Bears’ nemesis in two 1904 fairy tale anthologies. Old Nursery Rhymes and Stories (1904) and Old Fairy Tales for Children (1904) both feature “Little Goldilocks” as The Three Bears’ intruder. It is possible that the name Goldilocks was inspired by an entirely different fairy tale. French fairy tale writer Madame d’Aulnoy‘s story, The Beauty with Golden Hair, is sometimes translated as The Story of Pretty Goldilocks. 

In the 20th century, Goldilocks became the character’s standard name. Popular fairy tale collections like Flora Annie Steel’s English Fairy Tales (1918) used the Goldilocks name. Now the story is sometimes simply titled Goldilocks without any mention of The Three Bears. 

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Source:

https://torontopubliclibrary.typepad.com/arts_culture/2021/01/the-three-bears-before-goldilocks-the-history-of-a-fairy-tale.html

The Fox and the Cat – Storytelling for Everyone

Ukrainian folktale

In a certain forest there once lived a fox, and near to the fox lived a man who had a black cat that had been a good mouser in its youth, but was now old and half blind. The man didn’t want puss any longer, but not liking to kill it, took it out into the forest and lost it there.

Then the fox came up and said, “Why, Mr. Shaggy Matthew! How d’ye do! What brings you here?”

“Alas!” said Pussy, “my master loved me as long as I could bite, but now that I can bite no longer and have left off catching mice––and I used to catch them finely once––he doesn’t like to kill me, but he has left me in the wood where I must perish miserably.”

“No, dear Pussy!” said the fox; “you leave it to me, and I’ll help you to get your daily bread.”

“You are very good, dear little sister foxey!” said the cat, and the fox built him a little shed with a garden round it to walk about in.

Now one day the hare came to steal the man’s cabbage. “Kreem-kreem-kreem!” he squeaked.

But the cat popped his head out of the window, and when he saw the hare, he put up his back and stuck up his tail and said, “Ft-t-t-t-t-Frrrrrrr!”

The hare was frightened and ran away and told the bear, the wolf, and the wild boar all about it.

“Never mind,” said the bear, “I tell you what, we’ll all four give a banquet, and invite the fox and the cat, and do for the pair of them. Now, look here! I’ll steal the man’s mead; and you, Mr. Wolf, steal his fat-pot; and you, Mr. Wildboar, root up his fruit-trees; and you, Mr. Bunny, go and invite the fox and the cat to dinner.”

So they made everything ready as the bear had said, and the hare ran off to invite the guests. He came beneath the window and said, “We invite your little ladyship Foxey-Woxey, together with Mr. Shaggy Matthew, to dinner”––and back he ran again.

“But you should have told them to bring their spoons with them,” said the bear.

“Oh, what a head I’ve got! if I didn’t quite forget!” cried the hare, and back he went again, ran beneath the window and cried, “Mind you bring your spoons!”

“Very well,” said the fox.

So the cat and the fox went to the banquet, and when the cat saw the bacon, he put up his back and stuck out his tail, and cried, “Mee-oo, mee-oo!” with all his might.

But they thought he said, “Ma-lo, ma-lo!”

“What!” said the bear, who was hiding behind the beeches with the other beasts, “here have we four been getting together all we could, and this pig-faced cat calls it too little! What a monstrous cat he must be to have such an appetite!”

So they were all four very frightened, and the bear ran up a tree, and the others hid where they could. But when the cat saw the boar’s bristles sticking out from behind the bushes he thought it was a mouse, and put up his back again and cried, “Ft! ft! ft! Frrrrrrr!”

Then they were more frightened than ever. And the boar went into a bush still farther off, and the wolf went behind an oak, and the bear got down from the tree, and climbed up into a bigger one, and the hare ran right away.

But the cat remained in the midst of all the good things and ate away at the bacon, and the little fox gobbled up the honey, and they ate and ate till they couldn’t eat any more, and then they both went home licking their paws.

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Cossack Fairy Tales and Folk Tales collected by R. Nisbet Bain. London: George G. Harrap & Co., 1901.

Aschenputtel – Storytelling for Everyone

German Cinderella

A rich man’s wife became sick, and when she felt that her end was drawing near, she called her only daughter to her bedside and said, “Dear child, remain pious and good, and then our dear God will always protect you, and I will look down on you from heaven and be near you.” With this she closed her eyes and died.

The girl went out to her mother’s grave every day and wept, and she remained pious and good. When winter came the snow spread a white cloth over the grave, and when the spring sun had removed it again, the man took himself another wife.

This wife brought two daughters into the house with her. They were beautiful, with fair faces, but evil and dark hearts. Times soon grew very bad for the poor stepchild.

“Why should that stupid goose sit in the parlor with us?” they said. “If she wants to eat bread, then she will have to earn it. Out with this kitchen maid!”

They took her beautiful clothes away from her, dressed her in an old gray smock, and gave her wooden shoes. “Just look at the proud princess! How decked out she is!” they shouted and laughed as they led her into the kitchen.

There she had to do hard work from morning until evening, get up before daybreak, carry water, make the fires, cook, and wash. Besides this, the sisters did everything imaginable to hurt her. They made fun of her, scattered peas and lentils into the ashes for her, so that she had to sit and pick them out again. In the evening when she had worked herself weary, there was no bed for her. Instead she had to sleep by the hearth in the ashes. And because she always looked dusty and dirty, they called her Cinderella.

One day it happened that the father was going to the fair, and he asked his two stepdaughters what he should bring back for them.

“Beautiful dresses,” said the one.

“Pearls and jewels,” said the other.

“And you, Cinderella,” he said, “what do you want?”

“Father, break off for me the first twig that brushes against your hat on your way home.”

So he bought beautiful dresses, pearls, and jewels for his two stepdaughters. On his way home, as he was riding through a green thicket, a hazel twig brushed against him and knocked off his hat. Then he broke off the twig and took it with him. Arriving home, he gave his stepdaughters the things that they had asked for, and he gave Cinderella the twig from the hazel bush.

Cinderella thanked him, went to her mother’s grave, and planted the branch on it, and she wept so much that her tears fell upon it and watered it. It grew and became a beautiful tree.

Cinderella went to this tree three times every day, and beneath it she wept and prayed. A white bird came to the tree every time, and whenever she expressed a wish, the bird would throw down to her what she had wished for.

Now it happened that the king proclaimed a festival that was to last three days. All the beautiful young girls in the land were invited, so that his son could select a bride for himself. When the two stepsisters heard that they too had been invited, they were in high spirits.

They called Cinderella, saying, “Comb our hair for us. Brush our shoes and fasten our buckles. We are going to the festival at the king’s castle.”

Cinderella obeyed, but wept, because she too would have liked to go to the dance with them. She begged her stepmother to allow her to go.

“You, Cinderella?” she said. “You, all covered with dust and dirt, and you want to go to the festival?. You have neither clothes nor shoes, and yet you want to dance!”

However, because Cinderella kept asking, the stepmother finally said, “I have scattered a bowl of lentils into the ashes for you. If you can pick them out again in two hours, then you may go with us.”

The girl went through the back door into the garden, and called out, “You tame pigeons, you turtledoves, and all you birds beneath the sky, come and help me to gather:

The good ones go into the pot,
The bad ones go into your crop.”

Two white pigeons came in through the kitchen window, and then the turtledoves, and finally all the birds beneath the sky came whirring and swarming in, and lit around the ashes.

The pigeons nodded their heads and began to pick, pick, pick, pick. And the others also began to pick, pick, pick, pick. They gathered all the good grains into the bowl. Hardly one hour had passed before they were finished, and they all flew out again.

The girl took the bowl to her stepmother, and was happy, thinking that now she would be allowed to go to the festival with them.

But the stepmother said, “No, Cinderella, you have no clothes, and you don’t know how to dance. Everyone would only laugh at you.”

Cinderella began to cry, and then the stepmother said, “You may go if you are able to pick two bowls of lentils out of the ashes for me in one hour,” thinking to herself, “She will never be able to do that.”

The girl went through the back door into the garden, and called out, “You tame pigeons, you turtledoves, and all you birds beneath the sky, come and help me to gather:

The good ones go into the pot,
The bad ones go into your crop.”

Two white pigeons came in through the kitchen window, and then the turtledoves, and finally all the birds beneath the sky came whirring and swarming in, and lit around the ashes.

The pigeons nodded their heads and began to pick, pick, pick, pick. And the others also began to pick, pick, pick, pick. They gathered all the good grains into the bowls. Before a half hour had passed they were finished, and they all flew out again.

The girl took the bowls to her stepmother, and was happy, thinking that now she would be allowed to go to the festival with them.

But the stepmother said, “It’s no use. You are not coming with us, for you have no clothes, and you don’t know how to dance. We would be ashamed of you.” With this she turned her back on Cinderella, and hurried away with her two proud daughters.

Now that no one else was at home, Cinderella went to her mother’s grave beneath the hazel tree, and cried out:

Shake and quiver, little tree,
Throw gold and silver down to me.

Then the bird threw a gold and silver dress down to her, and slippers embroidered with silk and silver. She quickly put on the dress and went to the festival.

Her stepsisters and her stepmother did not recognize her. They thought she must be a foreign princess, for she looked so beautiful in the golden dress. They never once thought it was Cinderella, for they thought that she was sitting at home in the dirt, looking for lentils in the ashes.

The prince approached her, took her by the hand, and danced with her. Furthermore, he would dance with no one else. He never let go of her hand, and whenever anyone else came and asked her to dance, he would say, “She is my dance partner.”

She danced until evening, and then she wanted to go home. But the prince said, “I will go along and escort you,” for he wanted to see to whom the beautiful girl belonged. However, she eluded him and jumped into the pigeon coop. The prince waited until her father came, and then he told him that the unknown girl had jumped into the pigeon coop.

The old man thought, “Could it be Cinderella?”

He had them bring him an ax and a pick so that he could break the pigeon coop apart, but no one was inside. When they got home Cinderella was lying in the ashes, dressed in her dirty clothes. A dim little oil-lamp was burning in the fireplace. Cinderella had quickly jumped down from the back of the pigeon coop and had run to the hazel tree.

There she had taken off her beautiful clothes and laid them on the grave, and the bird had taken them away again. Then, dressed in her gray smock, she had returned to the ashes in the kitchen.

The next day when the festival began anew, and her parents and her stepsisters had gone again, Cinderella went to the hazel tree and said:

Shake and quiver, little tree,
Throw gold and silver down to me.

Then the bird threw down an even more magnificent dress than on the preceding day. When Cinderella appeared at the festival in this dress, everyone was astonished at her beauty. The prince had waited until she came, then immediately took her by the hand, and danced only with her.

When others came and asked her to dance with them, he said, “She is my dance partner.”

When evening came she wanted to leave, and the prince followed her, wanting to see into which house she went. But she ran away from him and into the garden behind the house. A beautiful tall tree stood there, on which hung the most magnificent pears. She climbed as nimbly as a squirrel into the branches, and the prince did not know where she had gone.

He waited until her father came, then said to him, “The unknown girl has eluded me, and I believe she has climbed up the pear tree.

The father thought, “Could it be Cinderella?” He had an ax brought to him and cut down the tree, but no one was in it. When they came to the kitchen, Cinderella was lying there in the ashes as usual, for she had jumped down from the other side of the tree, had taken the beautiful dress back to the bird in the hazel tree, and had put on her gray smock.

On the third day, when her parents and sisters had gone away, Cinderella went again to her mother’s grave and said to the tree:

Shake and quiver, little tree,
Throw gold and silver down to me.

This time the bird threw down to her a dress that was more splendid and magnificent than any she had yet had, and the slippers were of pure gold. When she arrived at the festival in this dress, everyone was so astonished that they did not know what to say.

The prince danced only with her, and whenever anyone else asked her to dance, he would say, “She is my dance partner.”

When evening came Cinderella wanted to leave, and the prince tried to escort her, but she ran away from him so quickly that he could not follow her. The prince, however, had set a trap. He had had the entire stairway smeared with pitch. When she ran down the stairs, her left slipper stuck in the pitch. The prince picked it up. It was small and dainty, and of pure gold.

The next morning, he went with it to the man, and said to him, “No one shall be my wife except for the one whose foot fits this golden shoe.”

The two sisters were happy to hear this, for they had pretty feet. With her mother standing by, the older one took the shoe into her bedroom to try it on. She could not get her big toe into it, for the shoe was too small for her. Then her mother gave her a knife and said, “Cut off your toe. When you are queen you will no longer have to go on foot.”

The girl cut off her toe, forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the prince. He took her on his horse as his bride and rode away with her. However, they had to ride past the grave, and there, on the hazel tree, sat the two pigeons, crying out:

Rook di goo, rook di goo!
There’s blood in the shoe.
The shoe is too tight,
This bride is not right!

Then he looked at her foot and saw how the blood was running from it. He turned his horse around and took the false bride home again, saying that she was not the right one, and that the other sister should try on the shoe. She went into her bedroom, and got her toes into the shoe all right, but her heel was too large.

Then her mother gave her a knife, and said, “Cut a piece off your heel. When you are queen you will no longer have to go on foot.”

The girl cut a piece off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the prince. He took her on his horse as his bride and rode away with her. When they passed the hazel tree, the two pigeons were sitting in it, and they cried out:

Rook di goo, rook di goo!
There’s blood in the shoe.
The shoe is too tight,
This bride is not right!

He looked down at her foot and saw how the blood was running out of her shoe, and how it had stained her white stocking all red. Then he turned his horse around and took the false bride home again.

“This is not the right one, either,” he said. “Don’t you have another daughter?”

“No,” said the man. “There is only a deformed little Cinderella from my first wife, but she cannot possibly be the bride.”

The prince told him to send her to him, but the mother answered, “Oh, no, she is much too dirty. She cannot be seen.”

But the prince insisted on it, and they had to call Cinderella. She first washed her hands and face clean, and then went and bowed down before the prince, who gave her the golden shoe. She sat down on a stool, pulled her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe, and put it into the slipper, and it fitted her perfectly.

When she stood up the prince looked into her face, and he recognized the beautiful girl who had danced with him. He cried out, “She is my true bride.”

The stepmother and the two sisters were horrified and turned pale with anger. The prince, however, took Cinderella onto his horse and rode away with her. As they passed by the hazel tree, the two white pigeons cried out:

Rook di goo, rook di goo!
No blood’s in the shoe.
The shoe’s not too tight,
This bride is right!

After they had cried this out, they both flew down and lit on Cinderella’s shoulders, one on the right, the other on the left, and remained sitting there.

When the wedding with the prince was to be held, the two false sisters came, wanting to gain favor with Cinderella and to share her good fortune. When the bridal couple walked into the church, the older sister walked on their right side and the younger on their left side, and the pigeons pecked out one eye from each of them. Afterwards, as they came out of the church, the older one was on the left side, and the younger one on the right side, and then the pigeons pecked out the other eye from each of them. And thus, for their wickedness and falsehood, they were punished with blindness as long as they lived.

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Source: Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, “Aschenputtel,” Kinder- und Hausmärchen [Children’s and Household Tales — Grimms’ Fairy Tales], 7th edition (Göttingen: Verlag der Dieterichschen Buchhandlung, 1857).

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Mabon—Autumn Equinox – Storytelling for Everyone

Welsh Mythology

This festival is named after the God of Welsh mythology, Mabon. He is the Child of Light and the son of the Earth Mother Goddess, Modron.

Here is another point of perfect balance on the journey through the Wheel of the Year, its counterpart being Ostara or the Spring Equinox. Night and day are again of equal length and in perfect equilibrium – dark and light, masculine and feminine, inner and outer, in balance. But we are again on the cusp of transition and from now the year now begins to wane and from this moment darkness begins to defeat the light. 

The cycle of the natural world is moving towards completion, the Sun’s power is waning and from now on the nights grow longer and the days are are shorter and cooler. The sap of trees returns back to their roots deep in the earth, changing the green of summer to the fire of autumn, to the flaming reds, oranges and golds. We are returning to the dark from whence we came.

This is the Second Harvest, the Fruit Harvest and the Great Feast of Thanksgiving. The Goddess is radiant as Harvest Queen and the God finally dies with His gift of pure love with the cutting of the last grain. He will return. As the grain harvest is safely gathered in from Lammas and reaches completion, we enjoy the abundance of fruit and vegetables at this time. It is time to thank the waning Sun for the wealth of harvest bestowed upon us. It sometimes seems that each Festival requires the making of celebration and the giving of thanks, but this really is so, each turn of the Wheel brings both inner and outer gifts and insights.

So, Mabon is a celebration and also a time of rest after the labour of harvest. In terms of life path it is the moment of reaping what you have sown, time to look at the hopes and aspirations of Imbolc and Ostara and reflect on how they have manifested. It is time to complete projects, to clear out and let go that which is no longer wanted or needed as we prepare for descent, so that the winter can offer a time for reflection and peace. And it is time to plant seeds of new ideas and hopes which will lie dormant but nourished in the dark, until the return of Spring.

Symbols & Rituals of Mabon

The Cornucopia
The Cornucopia, or Horn of Plenty, is a traditional symbol for Mabon. It is a wonderful symbol for the wealth of harvest and is beautifully balanced symbol which is both male (phallic) and female (hollow and receptive)

The Apple
The apple is the symbol of the Fruit Harvest. The apple figures significantly in many sacred traditions. It is a symbol for life and immortality, for healing, renewal, regeneration and wholeness. It is associated with beauty, long life and restored youth. The Ogham name for apple is Quert and Quert is the epitome of health and vitality. The apple is at the heart of the Ogham grove and is the source of life.

For Pagans, the apple contains a ‘secret’: Cut an apple width ways and it reveals a pentagram containing seeds. It is a much loved symbol of Paganism. The five points represent the elements of Earth, Air, Fire, Water with Spirit at the top, and thus also the directions of East, South, West, North and Within.

A circle around the pentagram represents the eternal circle/cycle of life and nature, and of wholeness. In ritual and ceremony the pentacle corresponds to the element of Earth. It is believed to be a protection against evil for both the person and the home, worn as an amulet or used to guard entrances to the home through windows and doors.

Colours of Mabon
From green to red, orange, yellow, brown and gold.

The Mabon Altar
Your altar should be dressed in the very best produce you can find from field, forest and market, from garden and the wild. Apples, pears, damsons, sloes, rose hips, elderberries, blackberries, hawthorn berries, the possibilities are large. If you collect from the wild, be not greedy – always leave plenty of fruit and berries for the birds and wee creatures.

Make an outdoor shrine for the nature spirits in thanks for the bounty they help to provide. Leave one of each flower, fruit and vegetable that you have, as a gift.

Great Feast of Thanksgiving
Celebrate with a feast for friends and family using as much fruit & veg, locally grown, as you can.

Go Walking
Go for a walk and collect as much of nature’s wild abundance as you can, while respecting the need to leave enough for everyone else including the nature spirits. You will find wild damsons, sloes, rosehips, elderberries, blackberries, hawthorn berries and more. Remember the fruit is the carrier of the precious seed.

Clear Out and Complete
We think of Spring as the time to clear out but now is the perfect time to complete unfinished projects and clear your home of unwanted stuff. Prepare to hibernate.

Plant Bulbs
This is an excellent time to plant tree seeds and shrubs.They have all of winter in the darkness to establish and germinate. Plant bulbs which will hide in the earth until early Spring beckons. Make each one a hope, idea or aspiration for Spring and wait until their little green buds show above ground – to remind you.

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https://www.goddessandgreenman.co.uk/mabon/

How Coyote Stole Fire – Storytelling for Everyone

Northwest Shoshone Tale

Long ago, when the world and human beings were new, there were times of great happiness: when spring danced across the forests and cool breezes nodded flowers heads and rippled streams, when summer embraced the earth as though the Sun were enfolding it in its arms, when trees were ablaze with autumn fire and made a canopy of colors across the sky.

But always the autumn leaves fell and the earth froze. Winter made people very sad and also very afraid, for in the winter many, many died of the cold and food was scarce. The oldest and newest humans suffered the most, but fear and sadness for them made the others suffer all the more.

Coyote was one of the wisest animals and a sly trickster but also a friend of the people. One morning in early spring, he heard the women of the village singing in voices so low and sad that he paused to listen. They were singing for the old and new ones who had died in the winter. Their deep moans were so filled with despair that it made the hair on Coyote’s back freeze like upside down icicles.

 “The sun! The sun!” Coyote heard one of the women say. “If we just had a piece of it to carry with us through the winter it would end the great suffering of our people.”

Coyote had an idea. He knew a place, far away on a mountain top, where three Fire Spirits lived. They tended a piece of the sun but guarded it with their very lives, because they did not want human beings to have it. They were afraid that, if they did, they’d be as strong as the Fire Spirits and that would place them at a decided disadvantage.

They had eyes that burned black and red like hot coals and sharp talons like an eagle’s for hands but Coyote wasn’t afraid of them. In fact, he not only didn’t like them, but he longed for an excuse to play a trick on them for their selfishness. He set out that day to the mountain of the Fire Spirits to steal their secret and help the human beings.

The Fire Spirits thought he was just a regular old coyote sniffing through the woods, so he had little trouble getting close to them and their fire. He sat patiently and watched, to learn how to tend and keep it himself. He learned that they fed the fire wood and bits from trees like pine cones. He learned that when flames stretched out and threatened dry grass nearby they stomped it out, keeping the fire.

He learned that at night the Fire Spirits took turns sitting beside the fire, guarding it and keeping it alive. Coyote saw that it was not only because they didn’t want someone to steal the fire that the Fire Spirits guarded it so closely but also because Fire was something that could not and should not be left alone.

Coyote also learned that there was one part of the day that the Fire Spirits were not completely consumed with tending their fire. Early each morning, the Spirit on watch at night had a difficult time waking the Spirit who’s turn it was next up. Sometimes, in his impatience to go to sleep, he left before the next Spirt took her place.

After studying all of this, Coyote went down the mountain to the village. He told the people and the animals about the Fire Spirits and how they tended a piece of the Sun. All agreed that they wanted fire and that they would help Coyote get it for them.

Coyote again went to the mountain-top. Again the Fire Spirits feared a thief in their midst but found only a coyote. Thinking he was just an ordinary coyote, they ignored him and went about their business as usual.

Coyote waited through the day and through the night until the dawn. The night guard Fire Spirit tried, as usual in vain, to wake his sister up to watch the fire. When she was slow in coming out and he’d just walked away in frustration,

Coyote lept forward, grabbed a flaming stick and took off down the mountain.

The Fire Spirits pursued him, screeching and hissing as they flew. Their coal black eyes burned and gleamed fiendishly with red. Their sharp talons grabbed and snatched, hurling branches, small birds and whatever else they could fling at Coyote. He ran like the wind but they were fast as flame and caught up to him.

One stretched out a formidable talon and, though she was only able to grab the tip of his tale, managed to hold it long enough that it turned the hairs white. That is why the tip of Coyote’s tail is white to this day.

Badly hurt, Coyote flung the fire away from him. Squirrel caught it and put it on her back. She too was burned, so badly that her tail curled up, as it still does today. Squirrel threw the fire to Chipmunk. She froze in her tracks with fear and one of the Fire Spirits clawed her, leaving three stripes from his talon down her back, which are still there today.

Chipmunk threw the fire to Frog, and one of the Spirits grabbed his tail, trying desperately to take back the fire. Frog leapt away but left his tale in the hand of the Fire Spirit. And frogs have not had tails since.

Frog flung the fire into Wood and Wood would not let the fire go. Even the Fire Spirits couldn’t get the fire from Wood. They promised gifts, they sang, they danced, they struck Wood and hacked it with their knives. But Wood would not give up fire. Defeated, the Fire Spirits went back to their home on the mountain top. They never again left the fire unattended but it was too late, human beings already had their secret.

Coyote, because he was so clever, had been able to trick wood into telling him how to get the fire out of it. He then showed the people how to rub two dry sticks together, and how to spin a sharpened stick in a hole made in another piece of wood. Doing this drew fire out of Wood in a way the Fire Spirits had not had the patience or presence of mind to accomplish.

So, thanks to Coyote, Squirrel, Chipmunk and Frog, human beings were able to keep a piece of the sun to keep them warm in the winter. And we keep it still.

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Source: One Who Gathers Tribes shared with love and respect from my sister, Darlene: https://elementsofspirit.net/wisdom-keepers/f/how-coyote-stole-fire

Eostre, Germanic Goddess – Storytelling for Everyone

Easter Lore

Art by Helena Nelson-Reed

Ostara, or Eostre or Eastre, is the Germanic Goddess of spring and dawn. She is only mentioned once in scholarly writings of the period: Bede the monk states that during Eostremonath (the old Anglo-Saxon names for April), the pagan Anglo-Saxons help festivals in her honor. Two hundred years later in Germany, in his Life of Charlemagne, a monk named Einhard gives the old name for April as Ostaramonath.

The goddess is also mentioned in a number of inscriptions in Germany, and the modern holiday of Easter—originally the name for the spring Equinox, but later subsumed to the Paschal calendar for the Christian resurrection holiday—is named for her.

The name “Eostre” (Old Germanic “Ostara”), is related to that of Eos, the Greek goddess of dawn, and both can be traced back to a Proto-Indo-European goddess of dawn, thousands of years ago.

Her truth, however, is evident every year. She is the first warm spring winds, the birds that return, the trees that bud and curl forth leaves and flowers. She is the awakening earth, rabbits and hares, the eggs that appear after a winter of no light.

City folk may not know that chickens who are kept in natural lighting quit laying in the winter, when the days are short, and begin again as the days lengthen. March/April is their peak time of year, and those eggs were a valued and welcome protein source for our winter-starved ancestors. Ostara’s legacy is in all those colored eggs which many of us still hang on trees every year.

Jakob Grimm, in his Teutonic Mythology, maintained that “Ostara, Eástre, was goddess of the growing light of spring.” Holy water in the form of the dew, or water collected from brooks, was gathered at this time; washing with it was said to restore youth. Beautiful maidens in sheer white were said to seen frolicking in the country side.

Ostara is usually depicted as a young maiden. As Ember Cooke writes, “…old enough to bear children, but not a mother.” She is wreathed in flowers or new greenery, and often dances. She is often joyous, but can just as easily turn suddenly solemn, like the spring weather that can quickly turn to rain. Like Spring itself, she is capricious, innocent and knowing by turns.

Ostara gives the gift of newness, which is especially important for those of us who are old and cynical in spirit. If you have lost hope over the winter, ask her for a new infusion of it. If you have lost sight of the goal, ask her for fresh eyes to look upon the problem anew.

If you are tired of the world, ask her to show you the small joys that are still around every corner, in every field of flowers that stubbornly make their way up from the earth.

In Celtic tradition, the hare is sacred to the Goddess and is the totem animal of lunar goddesses such as Hecate, Freyja and Holda, since the hare is a symbol for the moon. The Goddess most closely associated with the hare is Eostre, or Ostara. The date of the Christian Easter is determined by the phase of the moon. The nocturnal hare, so closely associated with the moon which dies every morning and is resurrected every evening, also represents the rebirth of nature in Spring.

Over the centuries the symbol of the hare at Ostara has become the Easter Bunny who brings eggs to children on Easter morning, the Christian day of rebirth and resurrection. Hare hunting was taboo, but because the date of Easter is determined by the moon together with the hare’s strong lunar associations, hare-hunting was a common Easter activity in England.

__________________

Source: https://www.northernpaganism.org/shrines/ostara/about.html

https://blogs.loc.gov/folklife/2016/04/ostara-and-the-hare/

Author adminPosted on April 2, 2021Categories Legends, MythTags Celtic, Easter, Germanic

La Lorona – Storytelling for Everyone

A Latinx Legend

The legend of La Llorona, Spanish for the Weeping Woman, has been a part of Latinx culture in the Southwest since the days of the conquistadores. The tale is so commonly told that every community has its own version of the story. But one thing stays the same—listeners always believe La Llorona is local, and storytellers always seem to know someone who has either heard or seen the undead mother. 

Though the tales vary from source to source, the one common thread is that the Weeping Woman is the spirit is of a doomed mother who drowned her children and now spends eternity searching for them in rivers and lakes.

The tall, thin spirit is said to be blessed with natural beauty and long flowing black hair. Wearing a white gown, she roams the rivers and creeks, wailing into the night and searching for children to drag, screaming to a watery grave:

La Llorona, named “Maria,” was born to a peasant family in a humble village. Her startling beauty captured the attention of both the rich and the poor men of the area. She was said to have spent her days in her humble surroundings, but in the evenings, she would don her best white gown and thrill the men who admired her in the local fandangos.

The young men anxiously waited for her arrival and she reveled in the attention that she received. However, La Llorona had two small sons who made it difficult for her to spend her evenings out, and often, she left them alone while she cavorted with the gentlemen during the evenings. One day the two small boys were found drowned in the river. Some say they drowned through her neglect, but others say that they may have died by her own hand.

Another legend says that La Llorona was a caring woman full of life and love, who married a wealthy man who lavished her with gifts and attention. However, after she bore him two sons, he began to change, returning to a life of womanizing and alcohol, often leaving her for months at a time. 

He seemingly no longer cared for the beautiful Maria, even talking about leaving her to marry a woman of his own wealthy class. When he did return home, it was only to visit his children and the devastated Maria began to feel resentment toward the boys.

One evening, as Maria was strolling with her two children on a shady pathway near the river, her husband came by in a carriage with an elegant lady beside him. He stopped and spoke to his children, but ignored Maria, and then drove the carriage down the road without looking back.

After seeing this, Maria went into a terrible rage, and turning against her children, she seized them and threw them into the river. As they disappeared downstream, she realized what she had done and ran down the bank to save them, but it was too late. Maria broke down into inconsolable grief, running down the streets screaming and wailing, “Donde estan mis hijos? Where are my children?”

The beautiful La Llorona mourned them day and night. During this time, she would not eat and walked along the river in her white gown searching for her boys — hoping they would come back to her. She cried endlessly as she roamed the riverbanks and her gown became soiled and torn. When she continued to refuse to eat, she grew thinner and appeared taller until she looked like a walking skeleton. Still a young woman, she finally died on the banks of the river.

Not long after her death, her restless spirit began to appear, walking the banks of the river when darkness fell. Her weeping and wailing became a curse of the night and people began to be afraid to go out after dark.

She was said to have been seen drifting between the trees along the shoreline or floating on the current with her long white gown spread out upon the waters. 

On many a dark night, people would see her walking along the riverbank and crying for her children. And so, they no longer spoke of her as Maria, but rather, La Llorona, the weeping woman.

Children are warned not to go out in the dark, for La Llorona might snatch them, throwing them to their deaths in the flowing waters.

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Source: Fuller, Amy. “The Wailing Woman,” History Today. (October 31, 2017)
https://www.historytoday.com/miscellanies/wailing-woman

Mexican Curandera – Storytelling for Everyone

By Charles E. Moritzky

As you may know, there are Brujas Blancas (white witches) and Brujas Negras (black witches). The white witches do good and the black witches cast spells for which spiteful or envious people pay them. During the Spanish and Mexican Inquisitions, witches could be put to death for their practices.

Most Mexican witches also practice as curanderas, or practitioners of herbal medicine and home remedies. Neither the witch or the curandera is likely to put out a sign announcing their profession as do medical doctors. But if you drive down a street and see a line of people outside a house, you can figure someone is either selling tortillas or it is the house of a curandera.

Whether or not you believe in witchcraft is a personal thing, but there are stories that make one wonder:

Joel is a cousin of my wife, Chela. When Chela was a little girl, Joel used to hang around with her dad, helping him with his produce business and was like one of their family. Joel is a nice guy. Until recently he hauled lumber for his patron, chauffeured him around, and I guess did odd jobs for him. Joel is slender, somewhat handsome, with wavy hair, light complexion, and has blue eyes. He is a good father and husband; that is, he takes care of his family.

Less than two years ago, Joel became ill. He spent a great deal of time in bed and spent a lot of money on doctors and medicines. The doctors were apparently not able to diagnose his sickness, and in the meantime, he was losing weight and, at times, could hardly get out of bed. When he tried to drive the truck, sometimes he would have to pull over to the side of the road because of dizziness.

After a year of this progressively worse condition, his brother suggested that he see this curandera who also practiced witchcraft. At first Joel, being a somewhat rational and religious person dismissed the idea as foolishness. However, as his condition worsened he finally gave in.

When they visited the curandera, she said that a doctor could not help him, that a neighbor was the problem, probably paying someone to cast a spell on him. Joel found this difficult to believe because he knew of no neighbor who might do such a thing. She said he had to wear red socks and underwear, both inside-out. Although the brother had a lot of confidence in the bruja, Joel did not.

However, he bought the red socks and shorts and wore them. She also prepared a cruz de caravaca (a double-armed cross) especially for him, and told him to hang it from his neck with a red cord. He did as he was told and began to feel much better, walking, working, and eating.

Then, on a visit to the local produce market he began to feel horrible. He had trouble breathing, like he was being choked. He called his brother because he was not able to drive. His brother brought the curandera to the market. He tried to explain how he felt. She could not figure out what was wrong.

“Are you wearing your red socks?”

“Yes.”

“Are you wearing your red shorts?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have the cross?”

“Yes, here it is.” He took hold of the cord and pulled it from inside his shirt.

She cringed. “Why are you using a black cord when I told you to use a red cord?’

“The red cord broke and I didn’t have another red one.”

She made him remove the cross and took it from him. She began to order the ‘bad spirits’ to abandon him as in some sort of ritual. Joel’s throat began to loosen up and he began to breathe normally and felt much better.

“Do you want me to transfer the spell to the one responsible for casting it?”

Joel, being a nice guy, replied, “No, I only want to be well.”

However, a short time later, a close neighbor died. Joel wondered if the bruja had anything to do with it. Anyway, that was the end of his illness.

Chela is something of a tease, and when she sees Joel, she asks him if he is still wearing his red socks and underwear.

____________________

Source: Charles E. Moritzky