“We would do well… to think of the creative process as a living thing implanted
in the human psyche.” — C.G. Jung (1922) Collected Works 15
We often say that every person is inherently creative and yet doubts and fears of inadequacy are common.
Many of us hesitate to make any claims to creativity and feel it is lacking in our lives, or question the value of our creative processes and the outcomes.
In this episode I offer a perspective on this dilemma with the aid of a fairy tale called “The Three Feathers” and The Red Book by and C.G. Jung.
Transcript of Creativity: An Inner Alchemy of feathers and toads
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.
In the last episode I introduced the idea that “how we imagine our lives is how we live them.” I then took a look at Apple’s ad for the new ipad and the criticism it received, which led to reflection on the image of the Greek Muses.
The images we hold of creativity and the creative process–like the Muses– are powerful and important. I think that many people hated the Apple ad because felt like a callous degradation of the mysterious conversation that takes place between the artist, the tools and materials employed, and the muse, the elusive source of inspiration and creative guidance.
Well, I’m going to talk about creativity and myth and imagination and life again today but from a different angle. Today’s reflections begin with a fairy tale. Fairy tales are a great source for images to fuel a creative process. Any creative process. If you are thinking to yourself, “Well, I guess I’ll click off now because I’m not an artist so there’s nothing in this episode for me…” then please resist that temptation and stick with me. Our creative activities extend far beyond the bounds of what we call “art” and they have a value beyond the artistic. Which is part of what I want to talk about today.
Today’s story, a fairy tale collected by the Brothers Grimm called “The Three Feathers.” I think it offers an interesting way into these questions of creativity and what is creativity, and how is it valuable. And also the hesitation that we often feel when considering our creativity– or our imagined lack thereof– in its many forms of expression.
Before I move into today’s topic and tell you the story, I want to update you on developments in my life that impact the Myth Matters podcast. Although we may never have had any type of personal contact, I feel that we are partners in this ongoing exploration of mythology and how it informs our lives today. Soo—A writing project that I’ve been sitting with for some time is now ripe. I’m excited about this and I must accept, after several months of debate and experiments, that I can’t keep up my old schedule with Myth Matters and stay engaged with my writing.
I do love meeting you here in this space and there will be new episodes but they will be less frequent. I expect my writing project to suggest new avenues and offerings as well. I floated the possibility of a webinar to work with a story and images of creativity in the last episode. Thank you so much to those of you who gave me feedback and expressions of interest. I’m not sure where online gatherings like this webinar fit at the moment so please stay tuned.
On that note, my email newsletter will be an even more important way to stay informed of my new offerings and the ways that I can be of service to you. I encourage you to go to the Mythic Mojo website and join the email list if you’re not already subscribed.
Thank you so much for your continued interest and support for Myth Matters and Mythic Mojo.
Now, onto our exploration of creativity, imagination, and the fairy tale called “The Three Feathers.” 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 Three Feathers”
Once upon a time there was a king who had three sons. Two of the boys were clever and intelligent, but the third one, the youngest one, didn’t talk very much. He seemed simple minded so the others called him “Dummy.”
The king became old and weak and thought that he was nearing his end. He didn’t know which of his sons should inherit the kingdom so he decided on a contest. He called his three sons together and said to them, “Go forth, and the one of you who brings me the finest carpet shall be king after my death.” So there would be no dispute among them, he led them to the front of his castle, blew three feathers into the air, and said, “As they fly, so shall you go.”
One feather flew to the east, another flew to the west, and the third feather flew straight ahead a very short distance and fell to the ground. One brother went to the east and the other to the west. They laughed at Dummy as they strolled away because he had to stand there where the third feather had fallen. Right there by the castle. Good luck Dummy!
The youngest son sat down. What was he going to do? He didn’t have any place to go. Then he suddenly noticed that there was a trapdoor next to his feather. He lifted it up, found a stairway, and climbed down inside. He came to another door and knocked. Then he heard someone inside call out:
Maiden green and small,
Hopping toad,
Hopping toad’s puppy,
Hop to and fro,
Quickly see who is outside.
The door opened and there was a big, fat toad sitting in the middle of a room, surrounded by a large number of little toads. The big toad asked the young man what he wanted. “I would like the most beautiful and finest carpet,” Dummy answered. The fat toad called to a young toad, saying:
Maiden green and small,
Hopping toad,
Hopping toad’s puppy,
Hop to and fro,
Bring me the large box.
The young toad brought a wooden box to the big toad. The toad opened it and pulled out a beautiful carpet, the like of which could never have been woven in the world above. The toad gave the carpet to Dummy. He thanked the toad and climbed back up the stairs and into the open air.
Now the other two sons thought that their brother was too stupid to find anything to bring home. Besides, look at where his feather landed! “Why should we spend a lot of effort looking for a carpet?” they thought. They took some pieces of coarse cloth from the first shepherd’s wife they came to, and took these rough rugs back home to the king.
They returned home just as Dummy arrived, carrying his beautiful carpet. The king was astonished when he saw it, the carpet was so beautiful. He said, “It is only right that the kingdom should go to my youngest son.” However, the other two other sons were outraged. They pestered their father and gave him no peace. “It would be impossible for Dummy to become king,” they cried, “because he lacks understanding in all things.” They asked their father to declare another contest.
“Okay,” the father said, “He who brings me the most beautiful ring shall inherit the kingdom.” Leading the three brothers back outside, he blew the three guiding feathers into the air again. Once again, two oldest brothers went to the east and to the west, and Dummy’s feather flew straight ahead and fell down next to the door in the ground.
The youngest son climbed straightaway down to the big toad. “What do you want this time?” the toad asked. “I need the most beautiful ring.” The toad had the box brought out again and pulled out a ring that glistened with precious stones. It was so beautiful that no goldsmith on earth could have made it. “Here,” said the toad and handed it to the youngest son. “Thank you,” said Dummy and made his way back to the castle.
The two oldest brothers laughed at the idea of Dummy out looking for a golden ring, and they took no effort at all with the task. Instead, they drove the nails out of an old wagon ring and brought it to the king. When Dummy presented his gorgeous ring, the king said once again, “The kingdom belongs to him.”
Well, the two oldest sons tormented the king endlessly, voicing all kinds of complaints and warnings. Finally, the old king declared a third contest. “This time,” he told them, “The one who brings home the most beautiful woman will inherit the kingdom.” Once again he blew the three feathers into the air and they flew in the same directions as before.
Without hesitating, Dummy went back to the big toad. “I’m supposed to take home the most beautiful woman.” “Oh!” answered the toad. “The most beautiful woman! She is not here at the moment, but you shall have her nonetheless.” The big toad gave him a hollowed out yellow turnip, to which were harnessed six little mice. The youngest son looked at it sadly and said, “What am I to do with this?” The toad answered, “Just put one of my little toads inside it.”
The young man grabbed one of the toads and set it inside the yellow coach. The little toad was scarcely inside when it turned into a beautiful young lady. The turnip turned into a coach and the six mice into horses. The youngest son thanked the toad, kissed the young woman, and raced away with the horses. He brought her to the king.
His brothers came along afterward. They had given no effort to find a beautiful woman but simply brought along the first peasant women they had come upon. After looking at them, the king said, “After my death the kingdom belongs to my youngest son.”
However, the two oldest sons again deafened the king’s ears with the cry, “We cannot allow the Dummy to become king!” They demanded that the preference should go to the brother whose woman could jump through a hoop that was hanging in the middle of the hall. “The peasant women will be able to do that very well,” they thought. “They’re very strong and the dainty lady that Dummy brought will jump herself to death.”
The old king gave in to this request as well. The two peasant women did indeed jump through the hoop, but they were so plump that each one fell, breaking her arms and legs. Then the beautiful lady that Dummy had brought home, jumped. She jumped through the hoop as lightly as a deer.
After this all the protests had to stop. Thus, Dummy received the crown and he ruled wisely for a long time.
Which moment or detail is calling to you? Make a note so you can muse over it later.
Now, what might this story have to do with creativity? The creative process begins with an exchange, right, a moment of inspiration. A spark appears to light you up. You receive a flash. Maybe you hear words or notes or see something flicker in your mind’s eye. A previously unimagined possibility appears, you engage, and something begins to take shape.
Whether you call the bringer of this spark or flash or word a “muse” or a “fairy godmother” is up to you. You and your intention. What you want to make, whether a painting, a song, or perhaps a king from the young man called “Dummy.”
The toad is an interesting form of the fairy godmother, yes? And a very different image of a muse, not quite the lithe woman with the long haitr in a flowing white gown found in Greek mythology. What significance and value could be found in the image of a toad as mentor and granter of wishes? With a toad as muse?
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 tend to be lumpy and bumpy and large-eyed.
Some people consider them quite homely and therefore loathesome. 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 others who possess magical, especially herbal, powers and knowing.
Close to the ground means close to the source. Burrowing into the earth, the source, the womb, the place of gestation. Where you plant a seed. And what can the toad swallow? Seems a toad can make use of a great many different materials. How are they held inside. What is derived or birthed from them? If the toad is close to the primal, to the unformed and undifferentiated, then it’s a powerful symbol for possibility.
In Chinese Taoism there is a figure, a man named Liu Haichan, who is associated with the mythical toad. Perhaps unsurprising that this man is associated with an animal. In Taoism is a religion, philosophical system, and manner of living rolled up together, the core understanding is that reality is a dynamic interplay of the energies of yin and yang. A good and wise life is one of balance between the material and the spiritual, the human and the natural worlds. This balance is something that must be found again and again and in the balance you have the still point, the image of the realize self.
According to the myths, Liu Hai formed a friendship with a three-legged toad. The toad, known as Chu Chan, is a manifestation of the moon (the three-legs refer to the three phases of the moon) and the yin energy. Together, this pair possessed magical abilities and perfected an inner alchemy that generated great wealth. Inner and outer gold. Liu Hai became one of the Eight Immortals. In the company of the toad Chu Chan, he is a symbol of prosperity and longevity.
The creative process of inner alchemy attributed to Liu Haichan points me toward another practitioner of alchemy, one closer to the European tradition of alchemy and also of myth and psychology: C.G. Jung.
One more thought in response to the story before I follow this thread and talk about Jung. Did the youngest son, the one who didn’t day much and was thought to be simple minded, the one called “Dummy,” know that he could be king?
What do you think? I would say no, he didn’t. And yet, he saw the trap door and was willing to find out where it led. A common block to the flow of our creative energies, to undertaking, to even attempting a meeting with the muse, is doubt about our worth. The question of self-worth takes many forms. One of them is “Do I carry something valuable to offer the world? Do I have something to offer?”
Another is “Do I have what it takes? Am I enough to bring it forth, to live it?” I think this story offers a way to answer those questions.
The feather fell right outside the castle gates. There was the toad. There was everything the youngest son required. He became king.
As the poet Rilke says, “Pay attention to what rises up in you.” This is where the creative process, as art making or inner alchemy or both, begins. It can be quite profound, the experience of C.G. Jung being one example.
Modern psychology began with depth psychology and the work of Freud and Jung in particular. Many of the concepts, theories, and insights that inform the common Western view of psychology, psychotherapy, and the inner life originate here. So too, the understanding that consciousness, creativity, and mythology are deeply related.
Deeply related, actually interrelated, because they well up from the same source, from psyche, and they are expressed in every individual in some fashion. In The Collected Works 15, The Spirit in Man, Art, and Literature, Jung writes, “We would do well… to think of the creative process as a living thing implanted in the human psyche.” In other places in The Collected Works, Jung talks about creativity as one of our instincts or something instinct-like.
Jung contributed many important ideas and theories to modern psychology and related fields, mythology among them, but what I want to think about for a minute or two is how he made his initial discoveries and the model or example this offers us.
Jung let what rose up in his dreams and fantasies be significant. He engaged with this material. He approached it with curiosity and devotion and artistry, that is, he used the methods of an artist and took these images and figures as his muse. Technically, literally, he took up drawing, painting, and arranging rocks. His fascination with stone led him to stone carving and even building a stone tower that he lived in at various times.
Jung created what many would consider “art.” The Red Book, for example, and yet he didn’t set out to be an artist. He explored the dimensions of his inner life and in those explorations gained a valuable insight about the relationship between craft, using your hands, and psychic activity.
He said, “Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain.” So what is often relegated to the realm of artists and making art, like handling a paint brush or picking up a pencil, for example, is actually a human activity, a response to the creative impulse to understand and fashion a self and a life. To bring something forth that isn’t necessarily or always, or only a “product.”
Jung’s Red Book is an extraordinary work. A sustained dialogue in text and image much like a medieval illuminated manuscript. Jung explores and talks with the figures in his dreams and fantasies. I’ll include a few of Jung’s paintings from the Red Book with the transcript for this episode.
Sonu Shamdasani, who edited The Red Book for publication, says the overall theme of the book is how Jung regains his soul and overcomes the contemporary malaise of spiritual alienation. In studying his fantasies, Shamdasani explains that Jung realized that he was studying the myth-creating function of the mind. And according to Jung, his creative process– the conversation with the toad, if you will– was a practice of inner alchemy that saved him and set the course for the rest of his life.
In Memories, Dream, Reflections, the autobiography Jung wrote with Aniela Jaffé, he writes, “The years when I was pursuing my inner images were the most important in my life—in them everything essential was decided […] It was the prima materia for a lifetime’s work.”
The feather fell right outside the castle gates. There was the toad. There was everything the youngest son required. He became king.
I have one more piece about Jung and The Red Book to share with you but first, let’s pause and give a warm welcome to new email subscribers: Jessica, Alan, Erika, Renee, Wanda, Zelda, Brandon, Denny, Jennifer, Emilia, and Jack. Welcome to Myth Matters!
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 Story Oracle readings and my consulting services and other offerings, and you can also join the email list. As I mentioned earlier, I’ll be making new episodes of the podcast less frequently for the foreseeable future, so joining the email list will be the best way to stay in the loop. It’s a monthly newsletter, not a bombardment.
I’m so grateful to the Patreon patrons and Bandcamp supporters of Myth Matters. Their financial support and presence in my psyche as companions in these explorations make all of the difference to me. Thank you.
Now, at a point Jung stopped making entries in The Red Book . He took it up one last time, decades later, in 1959. He was nearing the end of his life and he entered only a one-page epilogue, written in modern cursive script rather than the Gothic calligraphy that had he used before. The epilogue stops mid-sentence and one word is tucked alone in the top corner of the last page, the German noun, “möglichkeit,” which means “possibility.” (My apologies to German speakers out there for my pronunciation).
The German word for possibility. The rest of that page is blank.
A beautiful invitation and end. As Seamus Heaney says, “who knows where a poem begins or ends,” and so it is with the creative project of our lives.
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.
Feel free to email me in response to this episode or post a comment on the Mythic Mojo website. If you have questions about mythology, I’ll do my best to answer them.
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, listen to the toad, follow the feather, and keep the mystery in your life alive.
Links:
Memories, Dreams, Reflections by C.G. Jung, edited by Aniela Jaffé
Leave a Reply