Tuesday, September 11, 2012

What's your story?

I've been taking a Tarot class to add to my writing workbox and it's been opening up interesting channels.  One of those was an image of me entering Winter. No, not the Winter of George RR Martin's world. This winter was a little more interesting. More personal.

It is the Winter of the Snow Queen! Listen, to Sur la Lune...

Kay looked at her, and saw that she was so beautiful, he could not imagine a more lovely and intelligent face; she did not now seem to be made of ice, as when he had seen her through his window, and she had nodded to him. In his eyes she was perfect, and she did not feel at all afraid. He told her he could do mental arithmetic, as far as fractions, and that he knew the number of square miles and the number of inhabitants in the country. And she always smiled so that he thought he did not know enough yet, and she looked round the vast expanse as she flew higher and higher with him upon a black cloud, while the storm blew and howled as if it were singing old songs. They flew over woods and lakes, over sea and land; below them roared the wild wind; the wolves howled and the snow crackled; over them flew the black screaming crows, and above all shone the moon, clear and bright,—and so Kay passed through the long winter’s night, and by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen.

The Snow Queen is one of the tales I felt drawn to as a kid. I remember sitting in the first foster home watching it on TV.  I wanted to be Kay then.  Since, however I have felt the attraction of other tales and recognized having been drawn to different stories before the Snow Queen.

When I was still living at home and reading the colored Fairy books, I was never the princess waiting to be rescued. I was the prince with the cloak of invisibility doing the rescuing. Eventually.  I was the witch, doing cool stuff instead of bother with princes and princesses, like keeping my stuff for my own use!

I did serve a term as mermaid, but nothing like either the Andersen or the Disney kind.  Just went exploring under the water.

It was recognizing myself as Rapunzel that was most significant in my later years. No one else would recognize me that way though. Unless you were just looking at the tower.  I wanted the tower to be a library and the witch who lived with me there to be my teacher or guide.  Or to just leave me the heck alone so I could get on with my own work.

In my version, I do eventually get "rescued" but only to go on real Adventures. That was about the time I started Aikido, and playing Dungeons and Dragons.

Somewhere in there I identified with the story of the Seven Swans, the one where the sister is silent through all kinds of torment while she knits seven nettle shirts for her brothers.  Not sure when I let go of that one.  Could be when I took up nursing in real life.

Now, though, I am approaching the winter of my life.  I have not been terribly conscious of growing old. let along growing up or older.  There are elements of the story, though, that appeal to me. I know who my Kay is. I know what the frost and ice are.  Now, to discover who Gerda is...

So, what stories have been mirrors of your life?  Characters?  Which ones would you change around to fit how you really are?

Happy Tales!

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