A Mermaid's Tail

For some years now, I have identified with Mermaids and Selkies as an expression of  the archetypal feminine. Among my earliest childhood memories is that of playing Marine Boy with my slightly older brother, after watching my favourite sixties cartoon of the same name. I was always Marina the mermaid, my little legs ensconced in my pillowcase tail, which rendered me deftly aquatic, yet hopelessly clumsy on land (in which regard, nothing much has changed!). My earliest memories of swimming are of my Dad taking us to the Changi swimming pool while living in Singapore where, utterly unafraid of swimming underwater, despite being unable to float, I would wiggle my bottom determinedly, like a little fish. Dad would pull me up for an occasional quick breath, before I dove down and swam towards the bottom of the pool again.

 



My happiest memories are of time spent at the beach and the pool, once we were in Western Australia, a windswept, coastal landscape with all its salty tang and beach scrub aroma.

I whipped through swimming grades during many a carefree Summer of Vacation Swimming lessons, including advanced certificates in survival and lifesaving, due in part to my reasonably developed mermaid-esque ability to hold my breath under water for considerable periods of time.

Apart from the promise of sweets (10c would buy you 8 or so lollies in a small white paper bag, in those days!), I loved the post-swimming lesson frolics with friends; the synchronized swimming team moves we emulated; the under water tag and early puberty kissing games with boys at the end of the year,  on the cusp between primary and high school. I vividly recall my first foamy (surfboard); body-surfing at wild beaches south of Warnbro, in Rockingham; the hot tarmac underfoot as we roamed to watery places; mirthful sprinkler play before the days of water restrictions, and being allowed to fall asleep in my bikini, night after night, only to wake up and do it all over again the next day.

As a student of Anthropology at university, I was drawn to mythology in a safe, academicway. It was only later, after much letting go and re-invention, that the archetypal motifs of myth started to resonate deeply, and later still that I became a songwriter with folk leanings and wove them into my musical storytelling. This included a five-year stint directing a choir called Ocean, formed in 1998, The International year of the Ocean, during which time I also wrote and a performed a lot of ocean-inspired a cappella songs.

 

 



 

'Ocean' Choir logo by artist and choir member Paul Rubie



One of my favourite myths-retold-from-a-woman's-perspective-in-modern-times is Clarissa Pinkola Estes' story "Sealskin, Soulskin", from her best-selling book Women Who Run with the Wolves. This, along with a TS Elliot poem (from The Love Songs of J. Alfred Prufrock:" I have heard the mermaids singing each to each, I do not think they will sing to me...") and a recent trip to Thailand, have all given rise to songs about these most mysterious and elusive of sea creatures.

 

The Legend of Naka & Marisa, from Southern Thailand

 

If there's one thing the rise of a particularly destructive masculine political and social milieu does, it is to activate my Inner Mermaid. Somehow, the mermaid is a link between the unfathomable feminine realms, offering a wisdom that mediates and moderates the dogged 'masculine' desire to control life on the planet out of its very existence.

 

A recent decision which perhaps epitomizes the resurgence of this backlash against the gradual reclaiming of some territory by The Feminine in recent times, is the current situation facing sharks in Western Australia. I would like to think the many macho mutterings, warblings, rantings, tantrumings and Destructo Man antics of the incumbent administration are the death throws of The Old Paradigm. Whatever the case, they have thoroughly flushed Marina out of any of her hiding places, the sea caves in which she has taken refuge, and now she is out and proudly basking on the beach.

 

Having decided I am something of a terrestrial misfit, a mermaid lacking an actual tail, I remedied the situation by getting myself one. Let it never be said that mermaids are luddites: indeed this one can surf her way ably around the internet. And so it was that, in the vast ocean of Cyberspace, I serendipitously found my missing body part: a flipper-like, eco-friendly aquamarine--and-gold coloured monofin made from recycled rubber, in a size 7.

 

 

 

 

Kazzie Mahina, inventor and manufacturer of the Mahina Merfin, is living the dream of embodying the mermaid archetype as professional mermaid. I'm blown away by the story of how she worked on her free-diving, and how long she can consequently stay under water! But beyond the carnevalesque spectacle, the freak-show novelty value, Mahina's vocation touches on something significant, with which I couldn't agree more:

 

"Realising how potent the mermaid was as a metaphor for the connection between humans and the natural world, Mahina began to explore ways she could use her talents and her fins for environmental conservation. She felt education was the key, and what better way to inspire future generations than to create tails, with tales. "           

 

 



 

                         Mahina, professional mermaid and manufacturer of the Mahina Merfin

 

Apart from having my 7 year old son and my dog as witness on one occasion, my mermaiding expeditions so far have been furtive and solitary, so I have no photos yet. Perhaps I could swim with one of those waterproof cameras such as surfers use, to take mermaiding selfies?!

 

What I have discovered, despite a few concerns about anatomical incorrectness, is that having  a mermaid tail, although it requires some modification to the way I move in the water, in no way deprives me of fully functional genitalia. I have to give up any ideas of doing the Aussie Crawl, since there is no independence of leg movement such as one experiences when wearing flippers, however a frog kick can still be achieved while swimming face down, albeit with my feet connected. Backstroke makes for a good tummy and thigh workout and offers improved propulsion, as does general underwater swimming and body-surfing. I am learning to refine my underwater movements. After the long, slow, languid, undulations my 'tail' makes strengthen my empathy with whales and dolphins.  I feel a bit naked, quite the amputee, once I have taken it off!

 

The most useful achievement though is the smiles and other quizzical expressions it brings to the faces of other beach goers, when they realize I am wearing or carrying a mermaid tail. Perhaps we can bring about a quiet revolution, we mermaids? Slipping into the water in our splendid fins, proudly and worldlessly declaring the imminent arrival of a world in which the watery realms of depth, imagination, nature, feeling and wisdom prevail over clumsy, tired, terrestrial gallumphings that no longer serve us and the planet, other than as a reminder of how NOT to go about it.