torn between sea mists and solid land (1)

There have been sirens, mermaids, ondines, naiads, Loreleis -- all sorts of shape-shifting, feminine creatures of the water, whose manifold disguises and callous beauty ultimately betray their predatory and malign nature.

Driven by insatiable urges, at once aggressive and self-possessed, they pose voluptuously on rocks to lure men into their arms, or distract mariners with the haunting beauty of their songs, leading them to shipwreck on the rocky shores, or cunningly let themselves be caught in the nets of fishermen. Whatever the case, a materialistic hell awaits the man who, against what reason advises him, yields to the deceiving softness of their bodies. Nothing but stony agonies await him in the end.

These fantasies of feminine perversity never die. There is, however, one less obtrusive -- and more elusive -- watery creature who, despite her attraction for the land and its promises of sensual pleasure, remains a torn, divided being. Her name comes from the Orcadian dialect word for seal, Selkie, and, even though her origins seem to be Scandinavian (along with so many other things on the Orkneys), they later merged with existing elements of Celtic myth, making her inhabit the seas around the Orkney and Shetland Isles, as well as some parts of Ireland.

It might not always have been so, but the selkie came to be seen as a benign and kindly creature who, unlike the sly mermaid (with whom she is often wrongly conflated), does not lure men into some kind of trap. A shape-shifter, she is able to discard her seal skin and come ashore as a beautiful maiden. Yet only when a man, catching the selkie off her guard, captures her seal skin is she forced to become his wife and bear his children -- which she dutifully does, even though deep down she remains a wistful, melancholic woman longing for the sea. The yearning becomes so strong with the years that she eventually retrieves her skin, upon which she rushes to the shore and plunges into the sea again, without turning back, leaving her husband to pine on land. He will incessantly roam the sea-shore, but will never see her again.

There are myriad versions of the story, as well as songs. One theme in particular has stayed with me over the years, by the Irish singer Mary McLaughlin. Well worth listening to, despite the rather confusing homemade video that accompanies it on YouTube, criminally conflating all sorts of fishtailed creatures with the forlorn, unique selkie.


I'm all the way with her.

Sealwoman/Yundah

Words and music by Mary McLaughlin


Over the waves, you call to me
Shadow of dream, ancient mystery
Oh how I long for your sweet caress
Oh how I long for your gentleness

Torn between sea mists and solid land
Nights when I've ached for a human hand
I'll come to you while the moon shines bright
But I must go free with the first streak of light

Over the waves, you call to me
Shadow of dream, ancient mystery
Oh how I long for you sweet caress
Oh how I long for your gentleness

Lyrics source: http://www.greyglass.com/music/celticvoices.html
Image: http://www.orkneyjar.com/folklore/selkiefolk/origins/index.html