Did you know that fairies (or faeries) were originally green and wingless? Oh yes, in fact there's some debate about whether the Green Knight in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight was actually a faerie. Being pagan mischief-makers, the creatures were treated warily because, as part of nature, they had a dark, mischievous side. Not only were they tricksters, but wise folk too. Centuries later, fairies became magical beings who were exceptionally tall ("fairy" comes from "fair", a word that originally meant "tall"), which is why, in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, Titania can lie with Bottom without too much of a problem! It was the Victorians who made fairies tiny. That was their own story.
Looking back like this makes me think about today and the folklore we create. Jung argues that we need stories/myths as a way of releasing libido or connecting with the world. What, then, is our twenty-first century folklore? In Andover, for example, there is a gum pole. For years, the students at Andover High have stuck their gum on a pole near the school. It's become a tradition. Why? Because it's a way of bonding? Of breaking campus rules? Community? Or just a need for gum disposal, or what? I suppose the act of thinking our way around this ritual, is the beginning of creation -- stories arise.
In Cambridge UK there is a green called Parker's Piece. In the middle, where the cross-paths meet, there is a lamppost covered with graffiti. More importantly, the lamp gives off an eerie glow at night. There are muttered stories about strange happenings on this site. In Cambridge legend, the place is actually called "Reality Checkpoint" -- mention this to anyone local and they'll know where you mean. Once, standing at The Checkpoint, a man proffered me a teaspoon. "Want a spoonful of nothing?" he asked. I told him I was fine, thanks. At another time, waiting there, I saw a man with a dog -- it was dyed entirely red, from snout to tail.
I've even heard stories of alien sightings. I kid you not.
Who's to say how far oral stories affects our creative lives? Jung might question whether, given the power of the Collective Unconscious, any of these strange events would have occurred had the legend of Reality Checkpoint not been part of our shared folklore? Or, because of its rep, does Reality Checkpoint simply attract bizarreness?
I don't know. And I'm glad I don't.
I wouldn't wish the wonder away.
To see a photo of Reality Checkpoint, click here.
My favorite place in Cambridge is the boat moored by the bank of the river next to what is essentially a clothesline across the water. The idea, I think, was that you stand in the boat and pull yourself across. I kick myself for photographing it without giving it a whirl. Though come to think of it, that was Oxford. I never made it to Cambridge...
Posted by: Cathy | July 10, 2009 at 02:12 PM
Oh yes, I think I remember that. Oxford is gorgeous. Last time I was there, I was with some mates. We were crossing this plank-bridge and I was the last to go, but the plank collapsed and I ended up in the water. At this nearby beer-garden, the whole place dissolved in hysterics.
Naturally, I gave a bow.
Posted by: Sue | July 10, 2009 at 02:19 PM