One of the most visually beautiful images in folk tales and lore are the swan maidens, which in many Eastern lore and tales would be the crane maidens. With their majestic wings they move, dance and swoop down from the sky to glide most elegantly across the clear ponds and lakes. And then magically they change their appearance by the light of the moon; taking off their white feathered dresses, to bathe in the waters as women. They are always beautiful, perfectly blending innocent charm with alluring sensuality.
Swans are mystical creatures indeed. Shape shifters. In alchemy, their element is arsenic, because it can change its physical appearance. We find tales and folk lore of swan maidens and crane wives from across many cultures throughout humanity. Sometimes it is swan maidens, other times selkies, crane wives, mermaids, and in Bulgarian folklore, samodivas, the woodland nympths.
In most narratives, we usually find a man, perhaps a hunter or prince, who comes across the magical lake or pond where a swan maiden bathes in her human skin. Completely besotted by her or smitten, or just out of desire to capture this magical creature for himself, he will commit unjust actions and even crimes to capture her, such as stealing her dress, so that she may marry him. Sometimes he stills a piece of the dress, sometimes a feather, but essentially, he takes something not belonging to him, so that the maiden has no other choice to be within his grasp.
The swan maiden then follows him, marries him. She can’t possibly go back into the wild, because she doesn’t have the dress. This isn’t merely a dress – this is a part of her, a part of her nature, her freedom.
So she abides, perhaps hoping someday she’ll find her dress in a closet or a hidden box, so that she may then find her way home. In some narratives, the wild maiden grows to love him back, but in most, their union cannot possibly be sustained.
Captive bride tales such as those of the selkies, swan brides and samodivas share the common narratives, where the wildness of the bride is stolen from her, so that she is captured by a besotted man. This “wildness” is often represented by a dress, but it’s not just a wildness, not just a dress, this is her essence, her nature, the core of who she is, her divine spark, her inner god.
Tales often reflected the socio or cultural realities of the societies and people, and many of these tales were written during times when men desired to domesticate women and had anxieties that their wives would leave them. Whether they feared the sexual energies of woman, her freedom of spirit, her voice, many women were put into towers of isolation like Rapunzel, or kept captive in one way or another; others were burned at the stake, and most just became a pale version of themselves.
Left: The Swan Maidens by Walter Crane, 1894. Right: Swans by Gennardy Spirin.
But what happens when love is captured?
He may offer her his cloak to keep her warm in our human world, but it is not the same as her wild dress – which is her home, a symbol of her true inner nature, her wild nature, her freedom. In a way, she may even lose her identity.
Neither the husband nor the wife will be fulfilled nor satisfied; their union is doomed from the start, because it all began with trickery. The man has done nothing to win the heart of his beloved maiden, and cannot be a match to such a powerful spirit like a samodiva or swan maiden. As for the bride, is it love? It all began with trickery. She had no choice but to follow him in the beginning, no choice of her own, and she was trapped.
This kind of marriage cannot last in its fractured form, because there is an unequal power dynamic. It doesn’t mean it is doomed, but both people would need to somehow reconcile and integrate their different worlds, and they would need to find a common, more compassionate and understanding land, otherwise the marriage will end miserably.
No matter how compliant the swan maiden may be, or how luxurious and pleasant her life may be with him, she may be living in unspoken sadness, for she will always long for her piece of dress once taken from her. Living in a world not hers, feeling perhaps like she just doesn’t belong there.
And the marriage itself is built upon unspoken tension. How can the husband even believe her or ever be sure of her affections? She was basically taken hostage by him; will she stay if he gave her back the dress, will she stay if she had the freedom to choose? How many women stay with a man because they truly love him, rather than because they can’t afford to leave because of children, circumstances, finances, religions.
The dress of a wild maiden is part of who she truly is; of her wild nature which is her true essence. And how is it true love if she is forced to abandon this from the start? How is it love if isn’t based on our inner truth and we aren’t our authentic selves?
Illustration of a swan maiden by artist John Bauer for the story “Svanhamnen” (The Swan Maiden) by Helena Nyblom in “Bland tomtar och troll” (Among gnomes and trolls), 1908.
Love is not about taking away one’s freedom; love is free and still we choose to be with one another, rather than being forced into submission. Love happens when we are with someone not because we must but because we want to.
Love is what gives us wings, not take them away. Love is what gives us the space to be who we truly are, to be seen as who we truly are, and to be held as we are. Love is about freedom of spirit, of heart, and with open hands, we hold each other’s hands, and walk the path together.
Love expands you, to be more of who you are, to be more real, because you now have someone beside you who sees the real you, and holds and supports you to continue to be your real you. Love is to see and be seen, to know and be known, not of flesh, but through the flesh.
And who the swan maiden is, is a wild bride; not a human skin to be held captive. She is not seen as who she truly is; and she is taken away from her real world.
And what happens further down the road?
Well, he too may not like her anymore.
In these narratives, he is actually stealing the very thing that attracted him to her in the first place; he fell in love with who she is, with her dancing, her beauty, her freedom, her unrestrained magical self-expression, and her ever shining light, because she was in her true nature.
And yet, he then steals it away from her and eventually, living a life not hers, she becomes a pale version of her true self.
In real life and our human relationships, such a dynamic would essentially break a marriage. We will begin to resent one another. The one being in the role of the man in the swan tales will no longer even be attracted to his partner, because she is no longer who she is. And yet, how can she be who she is? Without freedom to be ourselves, in a space of non judgment, understanding and freedom to express ourselves, we can’t be ourselves.
There are marriages that will break apart because of the inability of the couple to integrate into each other’s worlds, explore and accept one another’s true selves, and provide the needed safe space to be their true selves. When we don’t pay attention to one another, and when we don’t re-explore one another, we eventually grow apart and can’t find one another’s worlds anymore.
Swan maiden stories often remind us that a marriage cannot exist too long in a fractured form. If two lovers cannot reconcile their different worlds, while still honouring and respecting their unique inner natures and true selves, the marriage will dissolve.
Illustration by artist John Bauer for “Agneta och Sjökungen” (Agneta and the Sea King) by Helena Nyblom in “Bland tomtar och troll” (Among gnomes and trolls), 1910.
In some of the narratives, the swan maiden gives birth to children and raises them happily with her husband, until one day she finds her dress, and goes back into the wild, without even looking back.
In the Swedish ballad of Agneta and The Sea King, the Sea King captures the mortal girl Agneta to be his bride underwater, where she raises seven kids, and had completely forgotten who she was. One day however, she hears the church bells from her town when she is near the shore, and this sparks back her memory of being captured, and she runs back home, finally returning after many years. In some of the version of the tale, she leaves her children behind also, with the Sea King.
There are many versions of this tale, and each’ ending may slightly differ, usually depending on the year it was re-written and the societal influences. In some versions, specifically the Danish version, Agneta abandons her husband even though she told him that she loved him and willingly went into the ocean, while in the Swedish version it is said that Agneta was clearly tricked and intentionally captured by the Sea King.
Ultimately we can never run away from who we are and what is true to our heart and soul, and eventually all returns to where it belongs. But it is interesting how even in the narratives where it is clearly stated that Agneta was unfairly captured, there are people who still blame her when she finally returns home to land, while the Sea King is portrayed as a lone sad man, now eternally hurt by his bride.
It reflects to us as humanity our own biases – that when stories are presented in such a way, we naturally will sympathize with a protagonist who falls in love with someone not meant for them from the start and while clealy knowing this, the protagonist still intentionally chooses to capture or possess the thing not belonging to them anyway. We essentially romanticize the conscious and intentionally capturing and possessing of the target of desire. We are led to feel sorry for the capturer, or the dark magician and trickster depending on the narrative, when his bride finally frees himself of a love bond not even real.
So this poses a question for us as the readers, or witnesses: Can we love Agneta? Can we love the swan maidens who too leave their husbands behind, once they find their dress and return to their home in the wild?
The wild maidens, whether cranes or swans or all those others taken to a world not theirs, seem to often show an image of both feminine strength and perceived weakness. A weakness of being captured, an innocence of submitting to deception, and the weakness of following powerful emotions or lust or desires to be with a man she falls for. And then a strength, a strength of spirit, of taking her life back and respecting her inner voice and inner truth; her strength to reject the terms and bonds of an unfair marriage. She is both a devoted mother and wife, while also running back into her wild when she finds her dress.
The Swans by Frank Brangwyn, 1921.
These tales often portray the suppression of feminine creativity, and how it can never be suppressed; because the more you suppress it, the louder the voice one day will be. It shows we cannot suppress our true inner nature, and we shouldn’t. The truth is that when a woman isn’t connected to her inner self, and doesn’t feel her joy within being true to herself, everyone else around her too will suffer, the kids, the husband, and even the community.
Many women feel abandoned, alone and living in a world not theirs at home. They cry their alone tears at night. They are perfect wives, but suffer inside, as if there is a large silent emptiness consuming them.
They dim their lights, they engineer themselves into smallness, so that someone doesn’t rob them or hurt them outside. Because people are triggered by beauty, by talent, by someone’s ability to be their true self, dancing in the wild. And so the swan maidens of our world dim their lights, stay hidden, make themselves into something they are not, say yes to things they don’t want to, stay in situations they don’t want to, shape themselves by the demands or expectations of others, sacrifice themselves and their voice and their everything, and basically, living under one roof as if they’re never truly seen nor heard.
So how can they be blamed for one day seeing a little candle, a flicker of light, which gives them back wings to fly, to feel inspired, to feel relieved, to feel cheered and joyful, to yes to themselves, to feel alive, to feel connected.
Beyond the fields of right and wrong, are the other fields. There, things are a bit more complex, non linear, subtle, and nuances are not as solid and rigid. Sometimes there are as many truths overlapping as there are storytellers and voices. Each one matters, and allows us an opportunity for a deepening and self reflection.
Left: Whispers on the Wind by Edward Robert Hughes, 1911. Right: Illustration by Cheryl Kirk Noll for the book Crane Wife by Ena Keo.
And yet, sometimes,
when two worlds meet and touch, they kiss;
and we find that love isn’t just felt in the hearts, it is known by our hands also.
Sometimes the wild maidens do fall in love with the brave hunters and mortal men; and despite their differences of the worlds they come from, they somehow find a way to one another to live in one world, as one.
This usually happens after the bridegroom has proven himself to her and has made a lot of effort to win her heart, as well as being able to truly see her and make her feel seen, known, listened to, understood. Wild maidens make great wives, not just because of their immense beauty and seductiveness, but also because of their knowledge and connection to nature, all of which help her to care for her husband and children.
In a way, she herself blesses the man with a gift he didn’t even know she was blessing him with – through his love for her, he joins with his own wilderness within, with his own connection to spirit and his inner wildlands and true self. He comes into his own wisdom, his own inner light, the bridge between heaven and earth opens, so that he comes into the sacred union. He gets in touch with his spiritual self also.
Daybreak Amidst the Swans by Jean Francis Auburtin, 1908.
A lot of the wild marriage stories, between mortal men and animal brides, or nymphs or spirits, essentially offer the opportunity for the hero to wrestle with the power of the magical world, and face his own shadows. In this way, the hero uncovers his creative potential at hand, rather than play tricks to capture what he is afraid to lose or desires to possess, for one reason or another.
He learns to enter the kingdom of true love, which is kingdom only for the brave. If the young hunter, shepherd or prince proves his loyalty, integrity, strength, courage, love and compassion, then a beautiful bride will emerge and stay with him, out of love also. This is the transformation, the alchemy.
We all have a wilderness inside of us; untamed, wild, unknown and uninhabited parts of us that are yet to be explored, felt and understood. These stories represent the wild within all of us, and the wildness of our lovers and spouses, as well as all the parts of them that we’ll never fully know. And that’s okay. Perhaps this is precisely what makes life interesting: we become not only lovers, we become mystics.
We commit to listen, pay attention and stay present for our beloved; to re-explore and re-discover one another, to re-learn the kissing, the holding, the caring, not the way we always did, but the way we need to right now. Because our inner worlds change, and the skins too change, so we must listen, pay attention, and not take each other for granted.
And perhaps it is precisely this wild or animal part inside of us that allows us to crawl for love surrendering our ego, and to re-learn to make fire with sticks when we find ourselves in the wilderness, or to find our way home when we are together lost in the forest.
Art by Hilma af Klint, The Swan, No. 1, Group IX/SUW, The SUW/UW Series, 1915.
The majestic swan symbolised the ‘grandeur of the spirit’ to Helena Blavatsky, founder of Theosophy, a spiritualist movement of great interest to artist Hilma af Klint; in alchemy, the swan represents the union of opposites necessary for the creation of the philosopher’s stone, a substance believed to turn base metals into gold.
In her art series, Hilma af Klint blends such established symbolism with her own idiosyncratic interpretations. The painting featured above portrays the two swans – one black (male, with yellow beak), the other white (female, with blue face and feet). This stark palette underscores the dualities of light and dark, male and female, and shows the union of the polarities, the merging of opposites, blending two into one for union.
In our summer skies now rises the Summer Triangle; and we see a beautiful swan gliding across the watery section of the heavens known to the ancients as the sea. The Cygnus constellation is depicted as a Swan, with her brightest fixed star Deneb Adige, found at the tail of the swan.
The Swan flies with wings outstretched along the Milky Way towards the Northern pole. Deneb, along with the bright Altair from the eagle constellation Aquila, and the Vega, the harp star from the Lyre constellation, create our beautiful Summer Triangle, which shines brightly in our Northern summer skies.
Referring to Deneb, Roman astrologer, Manilius, wrote: “In its own person, the Swan hides a god and the voice belonging to it.”
Inside the swan is her voice. Perhaps not always heard by all, nor understood by all, but we all have a voice, a true self, a divine inspiration that sometimes aligns to our song of soul and moves us as artists of life.
Everything is art. Love is art, life is art, mystics are lovers, and lovers are artists. We understand our power as co-creators, and when we embody love through our hands, lips and gestures, we become it. Love is not air, nor fantasy in the sky; love is meant to be embodied, and it is us who give it shape and form every day in our seemingly ordinary gestures and words.
If we can truly understand that inside of us lives a divine nature, a divine connection, a sacredness to be honoured and respected, we will be less likely to hurt others. If we can truly understand that if we take all the water from someone only for ourselves, eventually all the land will dry and we too will suffer, we will understand that all in life is interconnected.
If we can truly understand that life is interconnected, we deepen into intimacy with the entire world and everything around; and we enter not just the temple inside, we are inside the dome itself, in the center of our heart, anchored in the ancient truth that all is of one. And it is only ever love.
The swan hides a god, and the voice belonging to it. I’ve always loved this phrase. Within the temple of our hearts, we all have our god, the divine spark, our true essence, our voice. Swan maidens, and all wild brides and wild grooms also, remind us of the connection between the ether and earth. They remind us that two worlds can live as one, as long as there is respect and honouring.
They remind us that love is a world of worlds, of both skin and spirit, when heaven meets flesh in one body; and two worlds merge, and two lovers may become one, to give birth to a third soul: the soul of their relationship. We all desire to love, to belong, to find our person who truly sees us and understands us, so that we may walk together hand in hand, holding on holding strong, and build our private sacred lover’s cocoon.
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The beautiful cover art is by Maxime Simoncelli, his official website is linked here. I love this art, and his amazing ability to blend the worlds of the mystical, natural and ethereal; worlds revealing for those who have the eyes to see beyond the veils. All rights reserved to the artist.
