Course: The Wisdom of Fairy Tales
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"Just as our body has to have nutritive substances circulating through the organism, the soul needs fairy tale substance flowing through its spiritual veins." - Rudolf Steiner
There is a big difference in whether or not one has a child grow up with fairy tales. The soul-stirring nature of fairy-tale pictures becomes evident only later on. If fairy tales have not been given, this shows itself in later years as weariness of life and boredom. Indeed, it even comes to expression physically; fairy tales can help counter illnesses. What is absorbed little by little by means of fairy tales emerges subsequently as joy in life, in the meaning of life—it comes to light in the ability to cope with life, even into old age. Children must experience the power inherent in fairy tales while young, when they can still do so. Whoever is incapable of living with ideas that have no reality for the physical plane ‘dies’ for the spiritual world. This course The Wisdom of Fairy Tales brings to the student the rich and deep insights that the Anthroposophical world view has to offer in regards to the subject of fairy tales. Fairy tales and the art of storytelling are integral parts of Waldorf/Steiner education. Recommended ReadingThe World of Fairy Tales by Rudolf Steiner
The Wisdom of Fairy Tales by Rudolf Meyer |
Course Outline
Lesson 1: The Poetry of Fairy Tales / Part 1
Lesson 2: The Poetry of Fairy Tales / Part 2 Lesson 3: The Interpretation of Fairy Tales / Part 1 Lesson 4: The Interpretation of Fairy Tales / Part 2 Lesson 5: Creative Writing and Fairy Tales 
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The Wisdom of Fairy Tales
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Fairy tales for children under seven should be told evenly and clearly, with an emphasis on the consonants, rather than on the vowels. Vowels carry the emotional coloring of words, while consonants create the pictures.It can be a great mistake to offer a story to a child before the age of seven in an intense and dramatic tone of voice. People seem to feel that a young child needs this drama to catch his or her attention, but children are quite capable of giving their full attention to a story begun in a quiet and relaxed atmosphere.
These “sound pictures” present clear images to the child that he can live into to the degree in which he is emotionally ready. Try saying out loud, “The big black bear lumbered into the woods.” first with a strong emphasis on the vowels, then on the consonants. You should be able to hear for yourself the difference. Over emphasizing the emotional content of the words may cause fear in a young child disproportionate to the real meaning of the story. After six or seven, when the child begins to lose his or her baby teeth, he or she is ready for more drama. The emotional life begins to strengthen and develop independently of the physical body and Waldorf Class Teachers tell the stories with great variety of expression, especially when directing certain parts of the story to children of different temperaments. Also, after seven, more complex fairy tales are told and stories that have a greater emphasis on cause and effect. Young children can and do enjoy stories which their parents and teachers tell and can benefit greatly from the imaginative stimulation they provide. Most parents can attest to the fact that young children want stories to be repeated, sometimes over a very long period of time with no variation or respite. In spite of the fact that the parent starts to feel like she is living in a time warp, this demand of the child should be indulged. The longer a child can live with a story and the more it is repeated, the greater is the exercise of the child’s mental and emotional faculties. The ability to create inner pictures is developed. The rhythmic patterning of language and inner dialogue is developed and the child’s verbal memory is strengthened. The desire for the repetition should come from the child and the parent should accommodate it as cheerfully as possible. The desire for variety belongs to a later stage of development and should appear as the child becomes ready to read and write. Before the age of three, only the simplest household and nature tales are necessary and appreciated. A tale made up by a mother about a little boy who one day put on his coat and hat and mittens and went to the store with his mother is usually very entertaining and quite sufficient. There is no need to say that the little boy went out of the house and met a witch or a dragon. The very young child does not have an imagination developed enough to handle this. He may expect to see a monster at every corner. And in terms of “fairy tale truth” – little boys and girls do not meet dragons, Princes do! This is something quite different. Simple stories about how a little chick comes out of its egg and finds the nest and its mother so warm and safe from winter winds is a typical nature story for threes. Always emphasize the life giving and protective aspect of Nature at this age. There will be time enough later for the child to come to understand her caprices and difficult demands. If the parents have a feeling for the unseen world of fairies and angels, they may tell simple stories about them without any problem. Many young children have a strong sense of reality about these things. The stories should still be kept simple and direct with a gentle reverence. Four year old stories can be a bit longer and a little more detailed. A first fairy tale is “Sweet Porridge” found in Grimm’s’ collection. “The Three Little Pigs”, “Goldilocks”, and “Chicken Little” are fine as long as the negative aspects are not over-emphasized. Stories about Jack Frost, King Winter, Lady Spring and the Midsummer Fairies are good along with “The Little Red Hen”, “The Shoemaker and the Elves” and “Star Money.” Five year olds like stories with a little more action but kept within the realm of truth. The old lady down the street should not be equated with a wicked witch. Six year olds are ready for fairy tales in which good and evil come closer to the human being, but not those as complex as “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” or “Little Red Riding Hood.” Make yourself familiar with fairy tales. Read them to yourself before you read them to a child. Using the guidelines here, ask yourself questions about any new story you might like to tell. How complex is it? How long? Am I personally comfortable with it? If you have any doubts about a story, it is best to leave it to later, until the child is older or until the storyteller has studied it and understands its meaning. Remember, it is not necessary to have a new story every day. Children who are not spoiled by TV and movies are happy to listen to the same story for weeks at a time. This allows the child to have a very rich relationship to the story, which remains unconscious yet psychologically and spiritually effective. 
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Parents and teachers who take time to study the meaning and importance of fairy tales, whether from a psychological point of view outlined by Bruno Bettelheim, or a moral -spiritual view such as Rudolf Steiner’s, often become very enthusiastic. And as with many other enthusiasms, care should be taken not to overdo. It is necessary to have patience with this aspect of the education of the young child, as with all others. We know that it is harmful to try to make a baby stand on its legs before the muscles have developed sufficiently. Just so should the inner unfolding of the child’s imagination be respected. It should be given encouragement but not rushed.
While waiting for the child to “grow into” various stories, parents can fulfill their enthusiasm by reading lots of stories for their own enjoyment, enlightenment and even healing. Some suggestions would be Andrew Lang’s Rainbow collections, George MacDonald’s stories (suitable for nine and up) and folk tales from around the world, especially Russia.
Avoid modern versions of fairy tales with “whitewashed” or “PC” (politically correct) endings. These stories are very distorted and usually leave out the very element by which evil is overcome. The childhood fears commonly associated with fairy tales come from manipulated versions in which the frightening characters are not properly overcome. Psychologically, the true versions of the stories are beautifully constructed to help the child in his or her emotional development as long as they are told at the right time. The true versions of fairy and folk tales are those which were collected at the end of the 1800’s. Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm did not write the stories we associate with them. They, along with Andrew Lang and others were philologists who went out into the European countryside and collected stories retained in oral tradition. They may have saved many stories which would have died out in our technological era. They went to much trouble to correlate different versions and they were able to find a few people (mostly older women) who could verify the exact sequence of events clearly. These stories had been kept alive in the hearts and memories of the grandmothers for centuries. There have been a few beautiful souls who could write original fairy tales, such as Hans Christian Andersen and George MacDonald. They had the true reverence and spiritual sensitivity to do so. But a careful reading of their stories will show their appropriateness for the older children along the guidelines given above. There are folk tales and teaching stories from the east which are also appropriate for grade school children. Additionally, a great deal of emphasis must be placed on the telling of the stories and not showing them in pictures or on film. Bruno Bettleheim, in “Uses of Enchantment” clearly shows the harm in exposing the child to visualizations of the stories. He concludes that a child will only make mental images of those parts of oral stories that he or she is ready to assimilate. Unfortunately, they cannot filter out ready made images and they may easily be exposed to psychological structures and symbols they are not ready for. Almost all of the cases where a child has been traumatized by a fairy tale involve seeing it on film. Although there is much merit in Walt Disney’s films as art, they should be avoided by parents of young children. Children age nine and older can appreciate them; yet retain the inner images of the true stories they first came to know deep within their psyches. |
The Wisdom of Fairy Tales / Lesson 5
Tasks and Assignments for The Wisdom of Fairy Tales Lesson 5
Please study the study material provided (see below) and feel free to use additional resources relating to the subject of fairy tales. Once you feel you are sufficiently acquainted with the subject please complete the following:
1. Study the fairy tale provided, then do the following: A. "Correct" the fairy tale in such a way that you feel would improve the tale. B. Continue the tale by adding a few paragraphs at the end of the given tale. 2. Create your own fairy tale applying the insights you received in lessons 1 through 4 of this course. 3. Create a drawing or painting of a scene or several scenes for the fairy tale you created. Submit the completed assignment via the submission form or via email. 
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Study Material for this Lesson
The Inner Light. A Fairy Tale by Conrad Rehbach
One fine day, after Manon had eaten an excellent breakfast consisting of all organic ingredients such as eggs, butter, gluten free bread and fresh fruit of an orange color, she set out on a walk. She took her usual route past the old farmstead on the other side of the railroad tracks and on into the woods. The ground was soft from the recent rain — it had rained a lot for many a day — but now the sun shone brightly and she met several people in colorful clothes who smiled at her in response to her friendly greeting. Manon walked several minutes past the familiar trees and a bench upon which she had rested some other time, when the weather was less friendly, more blustery and cold. The few people she met back then stared straight ahead and ignored her greeting, although she did not remember whether she greeted them less friendly on that day. Chasing away this memory with a wave of her left hand—which she had taken out of her pocket for this gesture—Manon moved on and deeper into the forest. A squirrel crossed her path a short distance in front of her and seemed to stop for an instant but upon becoming aware of Manon ran on and up a birch tree, and disappeared in the heights. Manon noticed the birch tree, which stood out pleasantly with its white bark in front of the more solemn fir trees that rose immediately behind the birch tree, into which the squirrel had now disappeared.
Although Manon had walked this path many times before, she had not noticed a small wooden sign nailed to the trunk of the birch tree approximately three feet above the ground. The sign was now slowly swinging back and forth, most likely because the squirrel in its hasty escape had touched the sign and set it into motion. Manon looked closer and tried to decipher the writing on the wooden sign that seemed quite old and well weathered: “Inner Light” was written in a somewhat stern looking hand with a little almost unnoticeable arrow pointing in a certain direction. At first Manon read “Miller Lite” and thought, what a silly joke, and suppressing a laugh, she looked closer and read the message this time correctly.
Manon followed the direction the sign was pointing to, and moving some fir tree branches to the left, went into the thicket of trees and bushes, finding her way more by intuition than following markers or looking for further signs, even though there were many pine cones on the ground some of which were arranged in such manner that they could easily be taken for arrows pointing in the direction that Manon was taking.
Manon realized that she was now walking through a part of the forest that she had never gone to before, nor even knew existed. The bushes seemed darker and the fir trees taller. Slowly she made her way through the thick underbrush. Soon enough she approached what seemed to be a small clearing. She had just moved a branch to the side in order to pass by a particularly thick and bushy small tree — a sort of oak, but very short and almost growing sideways in all directions — when she suddenly stopped. There in the clearing right in front of her stood three fawns, almost close enough for her to touch their shining reddish coats. The three fawns stood as if frozen to the ground having just now discovered Manon staring at them. For what seemed like exactly three minutes both animal and human being stood motionless eyeing each other. Then, as if struck by an unseen force, the three fawns started to jump and move, comically knocking against each other, almost collapsing into a heap. At last they struggled free from each other and dashed off in three different directions.
Without hesitation Manon followed the direction that the middle fawn—the youngest of the three—had vanished to. There seemed to be a path leading through a now somewhat friendlier looking part of the forest. Manon noticed wildflowers in several spots and sunlight filtering through the trees, touching the ground here and there. After moving along for a period of time, Manon became aware that she was now quite lost and that she had no idea where she was or how far she had gone from home. At the same time she felt strangely assured that she was on the right path. She thought that she was meant to be going to the place that she was now heading for when, all of a sudden, she came out of the woods and onto a grassy surface. Now she realized that she was approaching a strange place. In front of her the ground seemed to drop off, as if the world ended right there. She stopped and looked up. In the distance she saw a rocky landscape surrounded by mist. In front of her: a chasm. Bending forward she tried to look how far down she could see and doing so she inadvertently kicked a few stones that started to roll towards the precipice and disappeared. She listened strenuously to hear whether the rocks hit the ground, but it seemed like a very long time until she heard a faint splashing sound.
Manon considered turning around when she noticed a bird, possibly a hawk, swooping down into the chasm and reappearing again at some distance to the right, where she now became aware of what seemed to be a hanging bridge suspended over the chasm and disappearing in the distance in the misty clouds surrounding what might be the other side. Manon hiked down along the side of the forest on a small stretch of grassy surface between the woods and the rocky precipice, until she reached the place where the hanging bridge was beckoning her to cross over into the unknown. Courageously, but slowly, Manon negotiated her way across the bridge avoiding looking down or back, but having her eyes focused on the shaky planks in front of her. Reaching what seemed to be the midpoint of the bridge she heard what seemed like faint laughter coming from underneath. She withstood the temptation to stop and look down, and kept walking slowly but certainly, step by step gaining ground, and eventually arriving at the other side. Stepping onto the rocky and solid surface she uttered a sigh of relief, and at the same instance heard the laughter behind her again, but now louder and clearer. Turning around she saw the bridge wildly swinging, then snapping in two and crashing down into the dark abyss.
Upon surveying the surrounding landscape in which Manon now found herself, she decided to follow a small voice which she heard seemingly from inside her head, telling her to climb higher into the rocky mountainside which she saw in front of her. There was no vegetation or signs of animal life. Her only comfort was the voice she perceived which gave her a stream of steady instructions, now telling her to turn left, now warning about an uneven part in the path, now speaking softly about something barely audible. Soon enough Manon noticed that she had reached a certain height and the clouds and mist that had enveloped her, started to lift.
Looking ahead into the distance she perceived a road leading down from the mountain and on to the horizon. Traveling along the dusty and winding road she came closer and closer to the ocean and its beautiful waters that were sparkling under a bright sun.
Upon reaching the sandy shore of the ocean, Manon noticed that the little voice had now either stopped murmuring or was being drowned out by the noise of the waves crashing upon the shore. There was a small row boat waiting for her near a washed up tree trunk that looked very ancient and was blackened on one side. Manon pulled the boat into the water and set out to sea. When she had rowed some distance away from the shore, she turned and looked back.
To her surprise there were now several giant puppets that had appeared on the sandy beach. Their faces looked long and grotesque; many were painted in bold colors and wore long colorful clothes that fluttered in the breeze. As Manon gazed back at the scene on the shore the puppets performed some rhythmical dance now swinging this way, now that way, and now bumping into each other not unlike the three fawns which Manon had encountered earlier on her journey. Manon continued to move over the water in her small boat and gaining some distance from the shore the puppets seemed smaller and smaller and soon appeared to be not unlike leaves of grass or miniature trees swaying in the wind. Farther and farther she went out into the ocean and soon she could not see the shoreline any more. She was now completely surrounded by water. As far as she could see in all directions: water, endless waves, all the way to the horizon.
Slowly the sun set in the distance and soon complete darkness surrounded Manon sitting all by herself in her little boat.
After a long while, Manon noticed what seemed to be a dim light in the distance. She rowed her boat in that direction.
The closer she came to the little light the lighter she felt inside until she finally reached what seemed to be a burning candle stick stuck in an apple that bounced and rocked back and forth on the waves. Looking around Manon noticed first another such apple with a lit candle in it, and then a third and a fourth. Within minutes she saw many apples with lit candles surrounding her and became aware of the increasing light all around her. Then Manon realized that these were the apples with the candles inside that she had lit herself over the years for all the children that she had in her care either at school or in her home or somewhere else.
Her whole life she had always wondered where the light of all these little candles might have gone. And now she knows.
Although Manon had walked this path many times before, she had not noticed a small wooden sign nailed to the trunk of the birch tree approximately three feet above the ground. The sign was now slowly swinging back and forth, most likely because the squirrel in its hasty escape had touched the sign and set it into motion. Manon looked closer and tried to decipher the writing on the wooden sign that seemed quite old and well weathered: “Inner Light” was written in a somewhat stern looking hand with a little almost unnoticeable arrow pointing in a certain direction. At first Manon read “Miller Lite” and thought, what a silly joke, and suppressing a laugh, she looked closer and read the message this time correctly.
Manon followed the direction the sign was pointing to, and moving some fir tree branches to the left, went into the thicket of trees and bushes, finding her way more by intuition than following markers or looking for further signs, even though there were many pine cones on the ground some of which were arranged in such manner that they could easily be taken for arrows pointing in the direction that Manon was taking.
Manon realized that she was now walking through a part of the forest that she had never gone to before, nor even knew existed. The bushes seemed darker and the fir trees taller. Slowly she made her way through the thick underbrush. Soon enough she approached what seemed to be a small clearing. She had just moved a branch to the side in order to pass by a particularly thick and bushy small tree — a sort of oak, but very short and almost growing sideways in all directions — when she suddenly stopped. There in the clearing right in front of her stood three fawns, almost close enough for her to touch their shining reddish coats. The three fawns stood as if frozen to the ground having just now discovered Manon staring at them. For what seemed like exactly three minutes both animal and human being stood motionless eyeing each other. Then, as if struck by an unseen force, the three fawns started to jump and move, comically knocking against each other, almost collapsing into a heap. At last they struggled free from each other and dashed off in three different directions.
Without hesitation Manon followed the direction that the middle fawn—the youngest of the three—had vanished to. There seemed to be a path leading through a now somewhat friendlier looking part of the forest. Manon noticed wildflowers in several spots and sunlight filtering through the trees, touching the ground here and there. After moving along for a period of time, Manon became aware that she was now quite lost and that she had no idea where she was or how far she had gone from home. At the same time she felt strangely assured that she was on the right path. She thought that she was meant to be going to the place that she was now heading for when, all of a sudden, she came out of the woods and onto a grassy surface. Now she realized that she was approaching a strange place. In front of her the ground seemed to drop off, as if the world ended right there. She stopped and looked up. In the distance she saw a rocky landscape surrounded by mist. In front of her: a chasm. Bending forward she tried to look how far down she could see and doing so she inadvertently kicked a few stones that started to roll towards the precipice and disappeared. She listened strenuously to hear whether the rocks hit the ground, but it seemed like a very long time until she heard a faint splashing sound.
Manon considered turning around when she noticed a bird, possibly a hawk, swooping down into the chasm and reappearing again at some distance to the right, where she now became aware of what seemed to be a hanging bridge suspended over the chasm and disappearing in the distance in the misty clouds surrounding what might be the other side. Manon hiked down along the side of the forest on a small stretch of grassy surface between the woods and the rocky precipice, until she reached the place where the hanging bridge was beckoning her to cross over into the unknown. Courageously, but slowly, Manon negotiated her way across the bridge avoiding looking down or back, but having her eyes focused on the shaky planks in front of her. Reaching what seemed to be the midpoint of the bridge she heard what seemed like faint laughter coming from underneath. She withstood the temptation to stop and look down, and kept walking slowly but certainly, step by step gaining ground, and eventually arriving at the other side. Stepping onto the rocky and solid surface she uttered a sigh of relief, and at the same instance heard the laughter behind her again, but now louder and clearer. Turning around she saw the bridge wildly swinging, then snapping in two and crashing down into the dark abyss.
Upon surveying the surrounding landscape in which Manon now found herself, she decided to follow a small voice which she heard seemingly from inside her head, telling her to climb higher into the rocky mountainside which she saw in front of her. There was no vegetation or signs of animal life. Her only comfort was the voice she perceived which gave her a stream of steady instructions, now telling her to turn left, now warning about an uneven part in the path, now speaking softly about something barely audible. Soon enough Manon noticed that she had reached a certain height and the clouds and mist that had enveloped her, started to lift.
Looking ahead into the distance she perceived a road leading down from the mountain and on to the horizon. Traveling along the dusty and winding road she came closer and closer to the ocean and its beautiful waters that were sparkling under a bright sun.
Upon reaching the sandy shore of the ocean, Manon noticed that the little voice had now either stopped murmuring or was being drowned out by the noise of the waves crashing upon the shore. There was a small row boat waiting for her near a washed up tree trunk that looked very ancient and was blackened on one side. Manon pulled the boat into the water and set out to sea. When she had rowed some distance away from the shore, she turned and looked back.
To her surprise there were now several giant puppets that had appeared on the sandy beach. Their faces looked long and grotesque; many were painted in bold colors and wore long colorful clothes that fluttered in the breeze. As Manon gazed back at the scene on the shore the puppets performed some rhythmical dance now swinging this way, now that way, and now bumping into each other not unlike the three fawns which Manon had encountered earlier on her journey. Manon continued to move over the water in her small boat and gaining some distance from the shore the puppets seemed smaller and smaller and soon appeared to be not unlike leaves of grass or miniature trees swaying in the wind. Farther and farther she went out into the ocean and soon she could not see the shoreline any more. She was now completely surrounded by water. As far as she could see in all directions: water, endless waves, all the way to the horizon.
Slowly the sun set in the distance and soon complete darkness surrounded Manon sitting all by herself in her little boat.
After a long while, Manon noticed what seemed to be a dim light in the distance. She rowed her boat in that direction.
The closer she came to the little light the lighter she felt inside until she finally reached what seemed to be a burning candle stick stuck in an apple that bounced and rocked back and forth on the waves. Looking around Manon noticed first another such apple with a lit candle in it, and then a third and a fourth. Within minutes she saw many apples with lit candles surrounding her and became aware of the increasing light all around her. Then Manon realized that these were the apples with the candles inside that she had lit herself over the years for all the children that she had in her care either at school or in her home or somewhere else.
Her whole life she had always wondered where the light of all these little candles might have gone. And now she knows.