I read all the Brothers Grimm stories to my three boys as they were growing up.
Reading to them was one of the very best parts of being a mother - I only chose stories I loved. And I loved reading them....so we read a lot.
Today I resonated with the Brother's Grimm stories in a way I never had. I knew the characters were archetypes of course; a representation of some primordial character, that speaks a universal truth that transcends time and geography. A character that is represented in most cultures in one way or another consistently enough so as to be recognised, on some level buy us all, albeit often unconsciously.
Unfortunately, I was never Rose Red, although more likely to be her than her gentler sister Rose White. I loved the dwarf they encountered, who by the way introduced my boys to the word 'odious' at quite a young age (to be used with fervour, for what seemed like an age thereafter), but I never really resonated with him....I was never so greedy for treasure. The bear was wonderful and you couldn't help but respect him and wish for him to be in your life...except when he turned into a prince. That was a little (lot) obvious and disappointing for this sceptic.
There were so many archetypal characters to be 'recognised' but not, in the way it resonated on a soul level with my sons; my eldest was always the Hero and my middle son the Wise man, my youngest the Kindest of all.....
But today I realised that The Brothers Grimm were just that - Brothers. Not sisters.
If they were sisters there would have been another character, and I would like to introduce you to her now;
She is the Bog Monster. Yes, this Bog Monster is a she.
She flails around in the unfathomable depths of the bog, grunting and murmuring to herself. Submerging herself deep in the mud and the stories in her head. Sometimes rising suddenly from its’ depths and roaring, spraying mud and fury at the sky and anything within reach.....only to sink again, into the bog, simmering and maybe a little quiet.
The next day perhaps, if you happen to pass, decidedly tentative around the edges of the bog you may see a young lady or genteel women sitting sedately on the edge, humming to herself and making daisy chains. Or spot such a person prancing through the nearby meadow flinging flowers and love at those she passes.
This is an archetype. And I have named it 'The Bog' monster.
I have done my research. My friends recognise her, she resonates with them too.
I have become a Grimm Sister.