Honoring your voice

In one of my earliest memories, I am sitting on the gold shag carpet of my childhood living room watching a Japanese animation version of Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid.” This wasn’t the Disney version. This film adaptation was based on the original story. 

I watched as the little mermaid saw prince fall from his ship during a storm and saved him from drowning. I watched her fall in love with him and make a deal with the sea witch to be with him. In this agreement, the mermaid gave up her beautiful voice in order to receive human legs and be able to live on land. However, if the prince married someone else, the mermaid would die, turning into sea foam at sunrise the morning after the prince’s wedding night.

So, the mermaid gave up her voice and received her legs, washing up on the shore where she was reunited with the prince. The prince could not forget the woman with the beautiful voice who had saved him from drowning, and was determined to find and marry her. The mermaid and the prince became friends, but because she could not speak, she could not tell the prince who she was. Because he could not hear her voice, he could not recognize her.

Eventually, through an act of trickery, the prince was led to believe that it was another woman who had saved him during the storm, and to the mermaid’s dismay, they were married.

The mermaid’s three sisters went to the sea witch and gave her their hair in return for a magic dagger. They brought the dagger to the mermaid and told her if she plunged it into the prince’s heart before sunrise, she would become a mermaid once again, and be saved.

The mermaid took the dagger and walked to the prince’s bedroom, where he was sleeping peacefully. She considered. She hesitated. She could not do it. The mermaid walked outside to the bow of the ship, and as the sun rose above the horizon, she dove into the sea, turning into foam.

Now, understand that I was a very young child watching this, and was absolutely confident that all would be resolved joyfully in the end. After all, every story ends happily ever after. 

Then the credits began to roll.

I sat. Dumbfounded. My innocent child brain trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Finally, it sank in. The mermaid was dead. She was gone. She did not get her prince. It did not end happily ever after. 

 “Things don’t always work out. Bad things can happen and stay bad.”

“If things can end badly for the mermaid, they can end badly for me, too.”

“I am not safe here!”

As my entire worldview crumbled around me, I started to cry. I ran out of the house. I found my dad working in the front yard. I threw myself at him screaming, “The mermaid died!”

Somehow, in between sobs, I managed to explain what had happened. Someone – a good person, not a bad person - had died. And what could my dad say? That things do always end happily ever after? That would be a lie, and I’d just seen the proof.

What are the stories that have stayed with you through the years? 

What have they taught you? 

Have you witnessed their lessons and themes reappearing in your own life?

“The Little Mermaid” has taught me much, and I do believe she foreshadowed one of my most important challenges, lessons and gifts in this lifetime. She taught me the importance of voice, and the dangers that come with silencing ourselves in order to fit in and be accepted. 

If we give up our unique expression, our authenticity, our power to express ourselves bravely and clearly, not only do we lose ourselves, we lose our ability to do the work we came here to do. We relinquish our gifts. We go into hiding.

And if they cannot hear us, the people who are most able to understand, love and appreciate us cannot find us.