Disruption, creative edges, and the fairy tale “Tatterhood”

The Norwegian fairy tale of “Tatterhood” begins as many stories do, with a kingdom that lacks something essential. Each of us lives in a fairy tale kingdom or two, in an orderly system of protocols and social rules that structure both outer and inner worlds.

The stability of the kingdom is important. And yet, the structure eventually outlives its usefulness. The old order stagnates, degrades, and loses meaning. The boundaries are too tight and the space feels too small. Because life = change.

Something new, something radical, is needed to catalyze a necessary renewal.

 

Transcript of Disruption, creative edges, and the fairy tale “Tatterhood”

Hello and welcome to Myth Matters an exploration at the intersection of mythology, creativity and consciousness. I’m your host and personal mythologist, 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.

I’d like to share a Norwegian fairy tale called “Tatterhood” with you. I was introduced to this story by a fellow storyteller here in Fort Collins– thank you Christopher! As is the case with most fairy tales, there are a number of variations of this story around. I’ll share a link to an online source of the story as it appears in early collections of Norwegian tales. This story contains elements from other fairy tales that I think you’ll recognize, which suggests the deep resonance of these patterns with lived experience, in my opinion. 

“Tatterhood” has me thinking about where we look and who we listen to, when we’re searching for orientation, answers, or fruitful possibilities in times of change. When the metaphorical kingdom, inside or outside, has lost its fertility and capacity for regeneration. I’ll share some thoughts about the story and my moment, and this theme, after I tell it.

Now, I invite you to let go and listen to the story. Notice what catches your attention. This might be a detail or moment that you like or dislike, or something that puzzles you. Your response to the story is a clue to the place this story occupies in your life right now. 

Tatterhood

Once upon a time there was a king and a queen who had no children, and that made them very sad. The queen in particular, rarely had a happy hour. Palace life was dull and lonesome. “If we had children there would be life enough,” she said. Wherever she went in all her realm she found children, even in the poorest hut. And wherever she went she heard mothers scolding their children for this and that, and she thought even that would be nice. 

Eventually the king and queen set aside their dream of having their own child and decided to adopt a girl. They brought her into their palace to raise, to grow up with them as their daughter, so they could love her and scold her as others parents did. 

One day this adopted little girl ran down into the palace yard to play with a golden apple. A little beggar girl came to stand at the edge of the yard and after a time, she called to the adopted princess to let her play too. They began to toss the golden apple about between them. Kids being kids, it wasn’t long before the two little girls were great friends. 

The queen was sitting at a window in the palace and when she saw this, she tapped on the pane for her foster daughter to come up. She went at once and the beggar girl came up with her. They went into the queen’s apartment, hand in hand. The queen wasn’t happy about this friendship and scolded her adopted daughter. “You ought to be above running about and playing with a tattered beggar’s brat,” she said and moved to drive the other girl down the stairs.

“If the queen only knew my mother’s power, she’d not drive me out,” said the little girl. “She could help you.” Now this gave the queen pause. She asked the beggar girl what she meant. “My mother could get you children if she chose,” the girl said. The queen wouldn’t believe it but the girl insisted that it was true, and told the queen to try and make her mother do it. The queen still wanted her own child very much so why not? She sent the beggar girl to fetch her mother.

An old beggar woman came into the queen’s chambers with the girl. “Do you know what your daughter says?” the queen asked. “No,” said the beggar woman, “I know nothing about it.” “Well, she says you can get me children if you will,” answered the queen. “Queens shouldn’t listen to beggar girls’ silly stories,” said the old woman, and walked out of the room.

This made the queen angry and once again she moved to drive out the little beggar girl, but the girl insisted that every word she said was true.  “Give my mother something to drink,” the girl told the queen. “When she gets tipsy she’ll find a way to help you.”

The queen was ready to try this so the beggar woman was fetched up again and treated to as much wine and mead as she wanted. Before long she was a bit drunk and the queen asked her about help with children again. 

“Perhaps I know one way to help you,” said the beggar woman. “Your majesty must make them bring in two pails of water some evening before you go to bed. Wash yourself in each of them, and afterwards throw the water under your bed. When you look under your bed the next morning, two flowers will have sprung up, a beautiful one and an ugly one. Eat the beautiful one but leave the ugly alone. Be careful not to forget this last bit of advice.” 

Well, the queen followed these instructions. She had the water brought up in two pails, washed herself in them, and emptied them under the bed. Sure enough, when she looked under the bed the next morning, there stood two flowers. One was ugly and foul and had black leaves, but the other was so bright, and fair, and lovely, she had never seen anything like it, so she ate it up at once. 

But the pretty flower tasted so sweet, that she couldn’t help herself. She ate the other one too, for, she thought, “I’m sure that it can’t hurt or help me much either way.”

Nine months later, the midwife was called and the queen gave birth. Whoa, the midwife recoiled in surprise when a little girl emerged with a wooden spoon in her hand, and a goat. This daughter began riding around the room on her goat, waving the wooden spoon and crying “Mamma, Mamma” in a loud lusty voice. A tattered hood covered most of her face. What was visible wasn’t too pleasing. 

All in all, this daughter was quite unexpected and the queen cried out “If I’m your mamma, God help me, I will mend my ways.” “Oh, don’t be sorry,” said the girl on the goat, “the one who will soon come after me is better looking.” Then the queen gave birth to a twin, another girl who was so beautiful and sweet and lovely that the queen was very pleased with this princess. 

They called the elder twin “Tatterhood,” because she was so strange and ugly and always wore the tattered hood. She continued to ride her goat and wave her spoon and loved to play hard and cause a ruckus. The queen could hardly bear to look at her and all of the nurses tried to keep the girls apart but Tatterhood and her sister loved each other and would not be separated. And so, they grew up together.

One Christmas eve, when they were half grown up, there arose a frightful noise and clatter in the hallway outside the queen’s apartment. Tatterhood asked what was making such a noise outside. “Oh,” said the queen, “it isn’t worth asking about.”

But Tatterhood had to know and wouldn’t stop asking until she found out all about it. The queen told her it was a pack of trolls and witches who had come there to celebrate Christmas. Tatterhood said that she would just go out and drive them away. The adults in the palace argued and begged with her to leave the trolls and. witches alone but Tatterhood just had to go out and drive them off. 

Before she went out, she told the queen to be careful. “Keep all the doors and windows shut tight,” she said, “So no harm comes to you or my sister the princess.”

Then off she went on her goat, waving her wooden spoon. There was such a commotion out in the gallery! No one was sure what has happening. The whole palace creaked and groaned as if every joint and beam were going to be torn out of its place and somehow or another one door opened a little bit and the lovely princess peeped out to see how things were going with Tatterhood. She put her head a tiny bit through the opening. The trolls and witches were running away and the battle was essentially over but, pop! 

Up came an old witch who quick as a wink, whipped off the lovely sister’s head and stuck a calf’s head on her shoulders instead. The princess ran back into the room on all fours, and began to “moo” like a calf. When Tatterhood came back and saw her sister, she scolded them all and was very angry because they hadn’t kept better watch on her sister. “But I’ll see if I can’t set her free,” she said.

The king and queen had no idea what to do. “Give me a ship with a full set of sails and good load of stores,” said Tatterhood, “and my sister and I will find her head.” The king agreed and started to organize a captain and sailors to help but Tatterhood insisted that she and her sister sail alone. There was no holding her back. At last, they let Tatterhood have her own way.

Tatterhood and her sister sailed off. She thought she knew where to go and steered her ship right up to the land where the witches lived. When she came to the landing place, she told her sister to stay on board the ship while she rode her goat up to the witches’ castle. When she got there, one of the windows in the gallery was open and she saw her sister’s head hanging on a rusty nail above the mantelpiece.  

Tatterhood jumped her goat through the window, snapped up the head, and set off with it. The witches came after her to try to get the head back. They flocked around her as thick as a swarm of bees but the goat snorted and puffed, and butted with his horns, and Tatterhood beat and banged them about with her wooden spoon, and the pack of witches quickly gave up. 

When Tatterhood got back to her ship, she took the calf’s head off her sister and put her own on again. The princess became the girl she had been before. Now what? Should they return home? The sisters decided to continue sailing. They sailed a long, long way, to a strange king’s realm.

Now the king of this land was a widower, and had an only son. When he saw the strange sail, he sent messengers down to the beach to find out where it came from and who was aboard. When the king’s men came down there, the only person they saw on board was Tatterhood, riding around and around the deck on her goat at full speed, shouting and waving her spoon, her tattered hood and hair streaming in the breeze behind her. 

The men from the palace were amazed at this sight. “Are there more people on board?” they asked. “Yes,” said Tatterhood, “I’m here with my sister but none shall see her until the king comes himself to greet us.” And you know Tatterhood, she wouldn’t budge or negotiate.

When the servants got back to the palace with their report, the king wanted to set out at once to see the girl that rode on the goat. When he arrived, Tatterhood brought out her sister, and she was so beautiful and gentle that the king immediately fell head over heels in love with her. He invited them both back to the palace, and wanted to have the sister for his queen.

But Tatterhood said “No.” “In my kingdom,” she told the king, “the eldest marries first and that is me.” The king decided to ask his son the prince to marry Tatterhood. The prince didn’t want to marry her. He didn’t find her appealing. But the king and all the others in the palace talked to him about love and loyalty to his father the king, and the good of the kingdom, and he finally agreed. He promised to marry Tatterhood although this prospect made him sad.

Wedding preparations were made and the day came. The four of them rode to church with the king and his bride, the princess, on fine horses in front. After them came the prince on horseback by the side of Tatterhood, who trotted along on her goat with her wooden spoon in her fist. The people were excited and happy and lined the roads to watch them all ride by. But the prince looked like a man on his way to a funeral.

“Why don’t you talk?” asked Tatterhood, when they had ridden a bit. “Why, what should I talk about?” answered the prince. “Well, you might at least ask me why I ride upon this ugly goat,” said Tatterhood. “Why do you ride on that ugly goat?” asked the prince.

“Is it an ugly goat? Or is it the most beautiful horse that a bride ever rode,” answered Tatterhood. In an instant the goat became a horse, the finest that the prince had ever seen.

They rode on a bit further, but the prince was just as sad as before, and couldn’t say a word. So Tatterhood asked him again why he didn’t talk, and when the prince answered, he didn’t know what to talk about, she said, “Well, you can ask me why I ride with this ugly spoon in my fist.”

“Why do you ride with that ugly spoon?” asked the prince. “Is it an ugly spoon? Or is it the loveliest silver fan that a bride ever carried,” said Tatterhood. In an instant it became a silver fan, so bright that it glistened.

They rode a little way further, but the prince was still didn’t say a word. In a little while Tatterhood asked him again why he didn’t talk, and told him to ask why she wore the ugly gray hood on her head.

“Why do you wear that ugly tattered hood on your head?” asked the prince. “Is it an ugly tattered hood? Or is it the brightest golden crown that a princess ever wore,” answered Tatterhood, and it became a crown at once.

Now they rode a long way further, and the prince still sat without making a sound or uttering a word, just as before. Tatterhood asked him again why he didn’t talk, and told him to ask now why her face was so ugly?

“Yes,” asked the prince, “why is your face so ugly?” “Am I ugly? You think my sister beautiful, but I am ten times more beautiful,” said Tatterhood, and when the prince looked at her, she was so beautiful, he thought that she was the most beautiful woman in the world. After that the prince no longer rode along with his head hanging down.

They drank the bridal cup both deep and long, and, after that, both prince and king set out with their brides to the princesses’ palace, and there they had another bridal feast, and drank once more, both deep and long. There was no end to the happy celebration.

As I mentioned in my introduction to the story, there are elements that you might recognize from other fairy tales. The two flowers, for example, might remind you of the story of “Prince Lindworm.”The exchange between Tatterhood, a presumably unattractive young woman with agency and a strong sense of her self-worth, and the prince who was asked to marry her, might call to mind the Arthurian story of Sir Gawain and Lady Ragnell. 

I wonder about connections like this. Do storytellers re-use bits merely because they seem like useful devices or do these images and figures compel us for another reasons? Who knows?

In any event, what I notice at “Tatterhood” and many other stories is how often the necessary catalyst to move everything forward appears on the periphery, at the edge of town or the forest, beyond the walls around the castle and the manicured courtyards. On the other side of a material threshold or some type of division that we hold, like the gap between rich and poor, or civilized and wild. 

This has me thinking about the significance of what lives on the edges of our established order. What appears, what it can signify, and how the value and meanings of these margins and what lives there, change over time.

In stories and in life, what steps out at the edge of the dark forest is first experienced by many people, if not all, as a disruption. Trouble. The sudden presence of something or someone that isn’t where they belong, that often causes folks to squirm in their seat or avert their eyes. The question that falls into a conversation like a rock in a well – plop – and sends ripples into the silence that follows. 

What emerges from the margins can be something that’s been marginalized on purpose, deliberately exiled or ostracized by the mainstream. Or it may belong to the margin because that’s its natural home. I’m thinking here of creative acts that involve edges or people, creatures, or ideas that can’t be fully civilized without losing their identities. These appearances on the periphery initially signify trouble and upset to the established order. They are out of their assigned place and in breaching the boundaries, they become a catalyst for change. 

What appears on the periphery is important to our stories, personal and cultural, because this keeps the plot moving. These figures and forces inject breath into what would otherwise become a static situation. Moribund. They stimulate action in stuck and stale situations.

These appearances from the margins can repeat and multiply in a story. For example, in another Norwegian fairytale, “Valmont the White Bear King,” the first incursion from the margin is a powerful dream, a visitation in the space between the deepest of sleeps and waking. The dream plants the image of a golden wreath in the mind of a princess and the desire she has to find it is yet another visitor that emerges from the edge of her consciousness. Then she meets a mysterious white bear in the forest. Then the white bear comes to the palace. 

A creative energy that previously lived in some other realm appears on the edges and moves closer and closer to the civilized order of the everyday until finally, the princess leaves with it. She begins a journey on the back of the white bear that takes her into liminal space and a process of renewing the life of a kingdom, not to mention her own fulfillment. 

Repeated appearances from the periphery are a central feature of  “Tatterhood” as well.  The beggar girl and her grandmother live outside the manicured gardens and protocols of the palace. Like the white bear, they are drawn close by a golden object, a symbol of eternal value, and step into the story. The magical flowers grow beyond the bounds of the cultivated garden. The witches and trolls that come on Christmas Eve arrive from some distant and mysterious place. They surge in from the margins. 

And then we have Tatterhood herself. What interests me here is that she is born in the palace, in the thick of things, at the heart! And yet, she is a disruptor, isn’t she? The antithesis of the image of “princess” as a hot house flower—beautiful, well groomed, cultivated to please others. Demure and easy to ignore unless of course you need something from her.

Tatterhood is born in the palace but she’s connected to the margins. She’s born because the queen eats those magic flowers. The same is true of her sister and yet, Tatterhood seems to understand more about what lives on the edges, doesn’t she? Neither of these girls is afraid of adventure but Tatterhood knows where to find the witches who steal her sister’s head and, notably, she fights with them at the palace and manages to keep her head on her own shoulders. 

Hmm. Tatterhood could have stayed inside the palace with the others and waited for the witches to leave. She insisted on fighting them. Is it possible that she instigated the loss of her sister’s head and put the entire adventure into motion?

I’ve encountered versions of this story in which the king is more of a character and active presence, and where the antipathy of the queen or the queen and king towards Tatterhood, is downplayed or removed from the story. In these versions, the longing for a child is a shared dream and the disappointment at childlessness is a shared sadness. The queen isn’t alone and perhaps lonely in it, as she is in this version. And in those other stories, Tatterhood‘s parents love her despite her strangeness. 

I think these variations are creative reworkings that reflect some of the more positive aspects of our cultural evolution, while keeping the mystery of Tatterhood herself and the dynamics of her story intact. I like them a lot. But I told this harder, crustier version from an earlier time because I’d rather work out the problems that this older story poses. And honestly, the antipathy and the desire to reject Tatterhood because she’s judged to be ugly and strange feels accurate and useful to explore. 

Some people may be capable of more tolerance and acceptance but isn’t this often theoretical? The position that we’d like to think that we’d assume if we were ever challenged to stretch ourselves? When it doesn’t cost us too much? 

I mean, I know dozens of stories that rely on this pattern, and I’ve lived it in my everyday world, and I still know the experience of pushing back against the one who disturbs my peace or sense of order. The impulse to judge and reject. Do you? If you’ve learned how to meet whoever and whatever comes into your life with equanimity and curiosity, no matter your expectations, please tell me how you do it. Seriously.

I think developing the capacity to see and embrace the Tatterhoods, and pay attention to what they do and value, is important to partnering with the creative potential in the current chaos. In this story, the disruptor, the catalyst for change, is a girl and the problems seem to be her beauty and appropriateness– the type of thing that many of us are tired of debating and judging. But a Tatterhood can be lots of different things, take many different forms. 

A story or an idea can be a Tatterhood. An emissary from the edges that brings something essential to the renewal of the kingdom right into the center of the sterile old palace.

One thing that “Tatterhoods” do is blur the established lines, rules, and categories. You thought this is what a princess is like, well, look at me! I am also a princess. This blurring can lead to useful questions, questions like: do we need this line, this rule, this definition, this category, at all? And if so, can it be more flexible? More accommodating to the gray areas that clearly exist? And if this line or category has exhausted its usefulness, let’s not hold onto it any longer.

I want to share a few thoughts on the specific symbology of Tatterhood’s iconography: her goat, wooden spoon, and tattered hood. But first it feels important to note that she came into the world with these attributes. As this lively, precocious, brave, and fiercely loyal little girl. And if her presence upsets the sterile kingdom, one that couldn’t produce life without a bit of magical advice from another edge dweller (the old beggar woman and her daughter), well so be it, right? The kingdom obviously needed some shaking up. Some new life. 

So many fairy tales begin with a kingdom that has a problem like this, a kingdom that needs a new king or queen, an infusion of creativity, wisdom, feeling, and life. This is the nature of kingdoms whether we’re talking about outer social arrangements or the inner structures of our lives, the rules, habits, and perspectives that we build our lives upon. Their usefulness is temporary. We change and the world changes and the kingdom must be renewed.

Now onto the specific imagery. The goat is associated with wild nature and domestication. Maybe the goat embodies  a type of edge. Goats are curious and hardy. They make use of everything. The males are associated with virility, something that has been demonized by the puritanical and others who are afraid of the fecundity of the natural world. Females are symbols of nurturing mothers. Goats have an exuberance and a lack of self-consciousness that is mirrored in the personality of Tatterhood. 

As for Tatterhood‘s wooden spoon, the symbolism here is a bit more mysterious.  In one version of this story, the spoon turns into a wand and there’s a similarity in their shapes. A spoon is associated with kitchens and food and nourishment and care. And someone with the spoon can really stir things up! Why does it turn into a fan? Maybe Tatterhood is done stirring things up for now and the language of the fan, of courtship and play, is needed.

And then there is the tattered hood. A tattered hood suggests hiding, covering. It also reminds me of the veil of mystery that covers the face of the great goddess and other holy ones who know secrets and have powers that shouldn’t be seen at their full force, in full face, by the uninitiated or the unworthy.

Now, what about the end of the story? I’ve said all of this about margins and disruptions and the value in that and yet in the end Tatterhood is beautiful and married to the prince. Is this a capitulation? A reversal of the message that leads us back to the same old, same old? Be beautiful after all and get married? Be accepted? What do you think? Does this story end on a familiar and disappointing note?

I’ll share a few thoughts about that question but first let’s pause to welcome new email subscribers to Myth Matters:  Jose, Audrey, Sehdev, Teresa, India, Jennifer, Kiri, Judith, Monica, Vinny, Nathan, Rosa, Kimberley, Beck, Laurie, Kristin, Cymonne, Eddy,  Sharon, Phoenix, Rhonda, and Alex. Welcome!

If you’re new to Myth Matters, I invite you to head over to the Mythic Mojo website, where you can join the email list if you’d like to receive links to new Myth Matters episodes in your inbox. You’ll also find information about the mythic mentorship and creativity coaching that I offer and a couple of upcoming events: Stewarding the Emergent, an online conversation coming up on March 12th, and Psyche’s Quest, a weekend workshop for women to explore the heroine’s journey.

Psyche’s Quest is a deep dive into the trajectory of your life journey and its significance. We’ll work with the ancient Greek myth of Psyche and Eros using a range of time-tested tools like journaling and meditation and art work. The workshop is April 24-26th in Woodstock, NY. I really love this exploration and I’m excited to offer it this spring. It feels necessary, and it’s part of my ongoing collaboration with the Greater Mysteries project.

If you’ve been listening to this podcast then you’ve heard me mention Greater Mysteries before. Greater Mysteries is an exploration of the cycle of transformation, weaving music, myth, ritual, and community. It’s a collaborative effort led by singer and composer Kelli Scarr and I’m pleased to be part of it. 

If you are in proximity to the Hudson River Valley– or could be– I invite you to take a look at all of the spring offerings of the Greater Mysteries project which are taking place mid-April through May 1st.

I’ll post the link to further details and registration for Psyche’s Quest with this transcript, along with the link to Greater Mysteries and the entire menu of offerings for this season of rebirth. What are you dreaming into being? What wants to be born through you?

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Now, back to Tatterhood and the end of the story. We have a marriage. Two marriages, actually. The history of this institution includes an ongoing conversation about its purpose and who it benefits, about obligation and choice, about the possibility of love and what inspires that love. About being seen and embraced as you are. 

If marriage in the story makes you itchy,  I encourage you to stay with that response and explore it. What does it show you about your desires for yourself?

Marriage in some form is a universal arrangement that’s connected to our evolving notions of the individual: what appears to be true about human beings and communities, about our psychology and the needs of persons and societies, the tension between conformity and creativity, stability and chaos, and what we imagine for ourselves, the ideals and visions of freedom and fulfillment that have changed over time. Marriage is a potent symbol, a powerful institution, and an aspect of the kingdom. It has to change.

We can also think about the marriage as an inner marriage, a union of opposites in the individual psyche that brings renewal through a new relationship. Acceptance and a change in perspective is part of such a process. Something previously repressed, relegated to the margins, is integrated into the conscious personality.

However, we feel about “marriage” and wherever we locate it, I do think the word “happiness” is important! The story says that this ending is not a disaster for anyone.

However, there’s the sense that everything works out in the end because Tatterhood meets mainstream expectations. Her individuality, her strangeness, transform into acceptable beauty. If this theme feels alive for you, investigate. And I think there’s another possibility here, perhaps a revelation of a truth.

We notice how this transformation comes about. Tatterhood prods the reluctant prince to ask a question, to show some curiosity and lo and behold, there’s something to discover that changes things. Suddenly the goat is a horse. How much can be gained by asking a question? Like so much in the story, this is obvious when you hear it and yet, in daily life it can be so easy to rest in our first impressions and assumptions. To assume that what we see on the surface is all that there is. That we already know it all.

I wonder what changed? The goat became a horse, the spoon became a fan, the hood became a crown and ugliness turned to beauty. Did these things become something wholly different from what they were before, or was another aspect of their nature, one that was present all along, revealed? I think the story suggests the latter. Tatterhood and her sister are twins. This is a deep connection and mysterious relationship. They gestate together and communicate in the womb. 

 The lovely princess and Tatterhood arrive in the world within moments of each other and love each other from the beginning. In stories, twins are often both the same and different. They’re complements of each other and these complementary qualities tell us something about the needs of the situation or what will be transformed. Thinking about these sisters, I wonder if there’s a synthesis between the ideal of female beauty as passive and superficial, and agency? 

We have the twins, and there are other pairs throughout the story: male and female, old and young, mother and child, rich and, poor, ordered and wild, mundane and magical. And I may have missed some. Are the differences between these categories as black-and-white as they appear to be or do they exist on a continuum that, taken as a whole, expresses a unity of opposites? As the king realized in the last story that I told you, “The King and the Corpse,” isn’t everything at some deep level, also its opposite?

We are in the middle of fierce and even fatal debates right now, about conformity and difference, about the value of what exists on the margins, and the need to preserve some old forms of order in the mainstream, that is the kingdom. Plenty to think about in this little fairy tale.

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. 

Let’s keep our eyes and heart open to what is merging from the periphery, my friend.

And that’s it for me, Catherine Svehla and Myth Matters. Take good care of yourself and until next time, keep the mystery in your life alive.