“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”― Joseph Campbell
We began an exploration of some important questions in the last episode. Questions about our allegiance to the inner world and the concerns of our outer life in the material world, as the demands of these realms often seem to be in conflict with each other. How well do we understand the relative weight and power of these worlds? How they inform and enrich the other? What is involved in our choices?
A fairy tale called “The Nixie in the Mill Pond” was our way into reflection on this topic. This is part 2 of the story and our reflection of these questions.
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Transcript of Allegiance to the Inner Life: The Nixie in the Mill Pond part 2 of 2
Hello and welcome to Myth Matters an exploration at the intersection of mythology, creativity and consciousness. I’m your host Dr. Catherine Svehla. Wherever you may be in this wide beautiful crazy world of ours, I’m glad that you decided to join me here today.
We began an exploration of some important questions in the last episode and I want to pick up that thread again today. The questions involve our allegiance to the inner world and the concerns of our outer life in the material world, as the demands of these realms often seem to be in conflict with each other. How well we understand the relative weight and power of these worlds, and how they inform and enrich the other. What is involved in our choices?
A fairy tale called “The Nixie in the Mill Pond” was our way into reflection on this topic and we’ll return to the story today. Let me offer a brief recap of the first part of the story and then I’ll tell the second half again to refresh our memories and get back into the flow.
The story begins with a miller who used to be wealthy and comfortable and has lost his wealth. He’s distraught by the inexplicable change in fortune. He goes out one morning and the nixie or water spirit in his millpond offers to restore his material security in exchange for the new life in his household. Assuming this must be a kitten or puppy, the miller unwittingly bargains away his newborn son. He’s deeply disturbed by this but it’s too late to unmake the bargain.
He’s rich again. Years go by and the nixie doesn’t reappear and the son stays away from the water.
The son stays away from the water. Then one day when he has grown and become a huntsman in service to the lord of the village, he pursues a roe, that is a small deer, to the pond. He kills the animal and unthinking, washes his hands in the water and is taken by the nixie. He doesn’t come home. His worried wife quickly figures out what has happened. And here we pick up the thread of our story.
Now, I invite you to relax and let go and enter the space of the story. Notice what attracts your attention. This may be a detail or moment in the story that puzzles you or generates some feelings or ideas. Whatever it is, you can step through that portal to explore the meaning this story holds for you right now.
The Nixie in the Mill Pond Part 2 of 2
When it was evening and the huntsman did not return home, his wife became alarmed. She went out to seek him, and as he had often told her that he had to be on his guard against the snares of the nixie and the mill-pond, she already suspected what had happened. She hurried to the water and when she found his hunting-pouch lying on the shore, she could no longer have any doubt of the misfortune.
Lamenting her sorrow, and wringing her hands she called on her beloved by name, but in vain. She hurried across to the other side of the pond and called him anew. She reviled the nixie with harsh words, but no answer greeted her. The surface of the water remained calm. Only the crescent moon stared steadily back at her.
The poor woman did not leave the pond. With hasty steps she paced round and round it without resting a moment. Sometimes in silence. Sometimes uttering a loud cry. Sometimes sobbing softly.
At last, her strength came to an end. She sank down to the ground and fell into a heavy sleep.Presently a dream took possession of her. She was anxiously climbing upwards between great masses of rock. Thorns and briars caught her feet, the rain beat in her face, and the wind tossed her long hair about.
When she had reached the summit, quite a different sight presented itself to her. The sky was blue, the air soft. The ground sloped gently downwards and on a green meadow, gay with flowers of every color, stood a pretty cottage. She went up to it and opened the door. There sat an old woman with white hair, who beckoned to her kindly.
At that very moment, the poor woman awoke, day had already dawned, and she at once resolved to act in accordance with her dream. She laboriously climbed the mountain. Everything was exactly as she had seen it in the night. The old woman received her kindly, and pointed out a chair on which she might sit. “You must have met with a misfortune,” she said, “since you have sought out my lonely cottage.”
With tears, the woman related what had befallen her. “Be comforted,” said the old woman,” I will help you. Here is a golden comb for you. Wait till the full moon has risen, then go to the mill-pond, seat yourself on the shore, and comb your long black hair with this comb. When you have done, lay it down on the bank, and you will see what will happen.”
The woman returned home, but the time till the full moon came, passed slowly. When at last the shining disc appeared in the heavens, she went out to the mill-pond, sat down and combed her long black hair with the golden comb. When she had finished, she laid it down at the water’s edge. It was not long before there was a movement in the depths. A wave rose, rolled to the shore, and bore the comb away with it.
In not more than the time necessary for the comb to sink to the bottom, the surface of the water parted, and the head of the huntsman arose. He did not speak but looked at his wife with sorrowful glances. At the same instant, a second wave came rushing up and covered the man’s head. All had vanished, the mill-pond lay peaceful as before, and nothing but the face of the full moon shone on it.
Full of sorrow, the woman went back home but again the dream showed her the cottage of the old woman. Next morning, she again set out and complained of her woes to the wise woman. The old woman gave her a golden flute and said, “Wait till the full moon comes again, then take this flute. Play a beautiful song on it and when you have finished, lay it on the sand. Then you will see what will happen.”
The woman did as the old woman told her. No sooner was the flute lying on the sand than there was a stirring in the depths, and a wave rushed up and bore the flute away with it. Immediately afterwards the water parted and not only the head of the man, but half of his body also arose. He stretched out his arms longingly towards the shore but a second wave came up, covered him, and drew him down again.
“Alas, what does it help me,” said the unhappy woman, “that I should see my beloved, only to lose him again.” Despair filled her heart anew but the dream led her a third time to the house of the old woman.
She set out and the wise woman gave her a golden spinning-wheel, consoled her and said, “All is not yet fulfilled. Wait until the time of the full moon then take the spinning wheel, seat yourself on the shore, and spin the spool full. When you have done that, place the spinning-wheel near the water, and you will see what will happen.”
The woman obeyed all she said exactly. As soon as the full moon showed itself, she carried the golden spinning-wheel to the shore and span industriously until the flax came to an end and the spool was quite filled with the threads. No sooner was the wheel standing on the shore than there was a more violent movement than before in the depths of the pond and a mighty wave rushed up and bore the wheel away with it.
Immediately the head and the whole body of the man rose into the air, in a water-spout. He quickly sprang to the shore, caught his wife by the hand and fled. But they had gotten only a very little distance when the whole pond rose with a frightful roar and streamed out over the open country. The fugitives saw death before their eyes.
In her terror, the woman implored the help of the old woman and in an instant they were transformed, she into a toad, he into a frog. The flood which had overtaken them could not destroy them, but it tore them apart and carried them far away.
When the water had dispersed and they both touched dry land again, they regained their human form. But neither knew where the other was. They found themselves among strange people, who did not know their native land. High mountains and deep valleys lay between them. They were both obliged to tend sheep for a livelihood and for many long years they drove their flocks through field and forest, unknown to the other and full of sorrow and longing.
Early one spring, they both went out one day with their flocks. As chance would have it, they drew near each other. They met in a valley but did not recognize each other. Still, they rejoiced at having company. Now they drove their flocks to the same place each day. They did not speak much but they felt comforted.
One evening, when the full moon was shining in the sky and the sheep were already at rest, the shepherd pulled the flute out of his pocket and played a beautiful but sorrowful song. When he finished he saw that the shepherdess was weeping bitterly. Why are you weeping, he asked. Alas, she answered, under another full moon I played this song on the flute for the last time, and the head of my beloved rose out of the water.
He looked at her and it seemed as if a veil fell from his eyes, and he recognized his dear wife, and when she looked at him and the moon shone in his face she knew him also. They embraced and kissed each other, and no one need ask if they were happy.
This is such a rich story. You will likely have many observations that I don’t touch upon and alternative meanings which is great. Go with what resonates for you. Let me offer you my gloss on the whole story and then we’ll dig a little deeper into this part and what I’m noticing.
The story begins with a Miller and a Nixie at a time of unexpected economic hardship. The Miller makes a bargain with the nixie, that is in Jungian terms, a destructive force in the unconscious. The miller is easily seduced by the promise of a return of his material prosperity and trades away the new life, his son. Something new, some new potential is subverted in exchange for a return of material wealth and security. Some psychological growth has been postponed or cut off all together.
The Miller calls the Nixie “evil” and in that moment, from his position, she is. She may be understood as an expression of the dishonesty in him. Dishonesty, greed, lack of awareness, lack of connection to the life in his household.
At the same time, the son does grow up. He becomes a huntsman, a seeker, one who wants to know. In an unconscious moment, he is taken by the Nixie. The bargain is fulfilled. But this isn’t the end of the story. In a sense, the story of the Miller and his bargain has come to an end and a new story, the story of the huntsman and his wife, the man and the woman, has begun.
A fresh opportunity for that new life and the promise it holds, presents itself. This couple manages to participate with the psychic dynamics and survive. A new state of being is achieved.
First, who or what is the woman in the story? You notice that she is referred to as the “wife” until she has her dream and after this, “woman.” The huntsman loses his role and becomes the “man” when he emerges from the pond. A quirk maybe, in this version of the story and yet it is interesting to contemplate the links between the roles we play, our core personality, the unconscious, and what is born or integrated in a process like this one.
In any event, “woman” is the life cycle, womb and tomb, the natural rhythms. She’s also the feeling, relational part of the self, the soul aspect that remains connected to psyche and the irrational, and that seeks and facilitates integration in the conscious personality. You might call this a quest for “wholeness.” I feel it is a quest for aliveness, for the direct experience of the mystery of self as part of the mystery of all-encompassing reality. That visceral knowledge of unity.
So, the woman is the soul aspect that remains connected to psyche. When she has a dream, she takes it seriously. Unlike the miller, she knows that the inner and outer worlds are connected, and she finds the one who can help her. The old woman who stands behind every woman and the soul in every person, the psychic earth mother who knows how things work, and how to heal and mend and maintain the underlying unity.
The woman goes to the old woman three times and every time she’s given a golden object and told to take it to the shore the night of the full moon. Let’s look at the objects for a moment: comb, flute, the spinning wheel. They are all gold and gold is our symbol for what is indestructible and uncorruptible. It is often associated with the eternal, and with the sun and consciousness. The comb then and combing her hair. Hair is often a symbol for the life force, for the vitality. What endures and keeps going. And a comb metaphorically, is the rays of the sun and consciousness.
Flutes are commonly associated with nature and fertility. In Greek mythology, you might think of Pan the nymphs and the others out playing and enjoying themselves. Flutes also associated with love and seduction. Seduction as a good thing and as a tricky thing. And finally, we have the golden spinning wheel. Spinning wheels and threads, and spinning, and weaving– all of these tasks are closely associated with the goddess, with women and women’s work, and female figures in mythology who handle fate. One of the better known if the Greek fates. the three sister who spin, measure, and cut the thread of every life.
And actually, all three of these– the comb, the flute, and the spinning wheel, are linked in various ways to images of the goddess and the uncanny female, the unpredictable element in nature. For example, mermaids and sirens and female water spirits are often portrayed with long flowing hair and voices or flutes; instruments that allow them to offer songs of such a seductive quality that people are lured to their death or to some unknown existence under the water, like the man in our mill pond.
Are these golden objects and ritual acts gifts to the nixie do you think, or messages to her husband? I sense that through these actions, the woman is calling the huntsman to come to consciousness, inspired by love, to take charge of fate. It’s as if she says: wake up, I love you, your life here is not done. Take charge, participate in your fate.
The man hears her call and escapes. You sense the Nixie gradually loses her hold. Perhaps he gains strength while she loses it? Loses it because she is distracted by her desire for the golden objects? There’s a thoughtless acquisitiveness in this Nixie that may be a parallel, do you think, to the miller?
The man escapes but there is a reaction, an eruption, a flood. Something powerful and important is at stake. A flood is a washing away, a cleansing. In the old myths, a great flood brings about the end of the world and a fresh start. You might also think about birth and the gush of amniotic flood. One existence ends and another begins, the consciousness is swept along by natural forces in the process.
In our story, the man and woman are swept away. They are lost, they lose their native land, their identity, and each other. We’re not done. They can’t pick up as they were. The process has changed them and this must be assimilated through a long period of solitude.
But first a transformation takes place. The woman turns into a toad and the man into a frog. This enables them to survive the flood, the bath so to speak, in the unconscious. And afterward they regain their human forms. Toads and frogs, like man and woman, have a great deal in common and also important differences. What might the transformation into toad and frog signify?
As you might expect, frogs and toads are associated with water and mud, the rain, fertility, transformation, and resurrection. Given their soft bodies and connections to water and mud, both symbolize primordial matter and the undifferentiated state of possiblity before final creation, in some mythologies.
The man turns into a frog and frogs spend most of their lives in water. The life cycle of the frog, from egg to tadpole to adult frog, takes place in the water and is a common metaphor for transformation as a natural, destined cycle. Frogs bear a physical similarity to humans, with longer back legs and shorter “arms” in the front, and faces. And this is cool, especially in light of our story, frogs are keenly attuned to sound. They have a special organ called the tympanic organ, over each ear canal and water, their primary home, is an excellent conductor of sound. Frogs also love to sing and have distinctive songs.
I wonder about the man trapped under the waters of the pond, who somehow manages to hold onto the golden flute, bring it ashore, and later plays a song for the woman which enables her to recognize him, and he to see her. A love song that he heard years earlier.
The woman turns into a toad. Toads are more comfortable on earth than their cousin the frog. They burrow into the earth and they hop close to the earth. They hunt at night, are good at hiding, and they eat a wide range of creatures. They have been associated with night, the moon, longevity and death. They tend to be lumpy and bumpy. Some people consider them ugly and worry about poisons and others see the toad’s appearance and habits as evidence of an earthy, primal knowing and wisdom. Maybe this is why toads have often been associated with witches and crones, and others who possess magical, especially herbal, powers and knowing.
I talked about the mythological background of the toad in an episode exploring creativity and inner alchemy this summer. I’ll post a link to that episode with this transcript.
In the case of our story, I think about the woman on the shore under the full moon, casting her spells with the golden tools, under the guidance of the old woman, the crone in the solitary hut up on the mountain.
The man and the woman regain their human form but everything that might bring them together has been lost. They wander and spend some time alone, in exile, longing for the other. Time alone in nature evokes the healing power of solitude and the natural world, a time of rebalancing and mending and resting. When they meet with their flocks, they are overjoyed at the company and yet their special importance to each other and their love is still hidden. This is awakened with a song under the full moon, and takes place spontaneously under the influence of the guiding dynamics of the process, don’t you think? Like everything else described in this story.
What has been accomplished? A new harmony, one established in greater truth, with greater awareness. That new life that was stifled at the beginning of the story can flower. This process unfolded according to dynamics in the psyche and it required conscious effort. As Joseph Campbell, says, “We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”
We collaborate with the mystery.
If this story struck a chord with you and inspired thoughts, I’d love to hear your take and the meaning that you found.
I have a few thoughts about where we might look for this story and this pattern in our lives. And I want to close with a poem that I think you’ll like. First, let’s make our customary pause for brief announcements.
I’m reading our fairy tale as a description of profound change and transformation, and I believe that we are going through this process collectively, as a species. The old paradigms are crumbling at an accelerated pace and I’m super excited to invite you into a process with me. I’m offering a guided journey into story, Step Into the Fairy Glen, this November 1st-15th.
I tell you a story and share daily prompts for two weeks, from the new moon to the full. The process requires only 15 minutes a day but wow, a lot can happen. In choosing this timing, we draw on the cycle of the moon from new to full, and the liminal energies of the season , in addition to major shifts in the collective that are underway.
If you are reflecting on your work in the world and the ways that you participate in community – or wonder if you should be – this may be for you. Or if you’re stuck or feeling uninspired. What you need may be in the fairy glen. Details and registration are at mythicmojo.com or use the link posted in the show notes for this episode.
Let’s step into this liminal space of the fairy glen together.
A big welcome to new email subscribers: Ken, Laura, Kim, Tracy, Steven, Denise, and Keira. Welcome!
If you’re new to Myth Matters, I invite you to head over to the Mythic Mojo website. You’ll find a transcript of this episode, information about the ways that you can work with me–like the fairy glen– and you can also join the email list, if you’d like to receive links to new Myth Matters episodes in your inbox.
Many thanks to the patreon patrons and bandcamp supporters of Myth Matters. Shout out to long time patrons Mark, Fred, and Giédre. Thank you my friends for your dollars, comments, and friendship in our shared space of story.
Now, back to our story and where we might look for this process or pattern. You can consider this story on an individual level, in your psychological life, and see all of these characters as members of your psychic community. You can add a generational element and add your family into the mix. You can also look for this story in the collective life, in society. You might see the story at work on all of these levels. The boundaries are quite permeable. They are not mutually exclusive.
On that note, I find the collective astrology and Pluto’s movement into Aquarius in November very interesting. As you may be aware, Pluto’s last transit through Aquarius was the late 1700’s, the time of the American and French revolutions. There was blowback and a few centuries of emphasis on material prosperity and empirical science, the dominance of colonial values and the suppression of difference and exploitation of everyone by the rich and powerful.
Are we reaching a critical point in the demand for a new paradigm and new social contract? Have the comb, the flute, and the spinning wheel been offered and absorbed by the unconscious? Have the uncorrupted messages of life force, love, and fate been sent and received? I wonder. And I wonder what role each of us plays in this process.
I’d like to close with a poem by Aracelis Girmay. It’s titled “Elegy.”
“Elegy” by Aracelis Girmay
What to do with this knowledge
that our living is not guaranteed?
Perhaps one day you touch the young branch
of something beautiful. & it grows & grows
despite your birthdays & the death certificate,
& it one day shades the heads of something beautiful
or makes itself useful to the nest. Walk out
of your house, then, believing in this.
Nothing else matters.
All above us is the touching
of strangers & parrots,
some of them human,
some of them not human.
Listen to me. I am telling you
a true thing. This is the only kingdom.
The kingdom of touching;
the touches of the disappearing, things.
If we have a better understanding of our need for myth, and all that our old stories offer, we can live more satisfying lives. We can inhabit a better story and create a more beautiful, just and sustainable world.
And that’s it for me, Catherine Svehla and Myth Matters. Thank you so much for listening. Take good care of yourself and until next time, keep the mystery in your life alive.
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