by Robert Bly
SIX
THE WHITE BEAR KING VALEMON
A young girl goes out in the forest one day and sees a White Bear playing with a golden wreath. He is lying on his back, balancing the wreath in his paws. The girl is drawn to gold and so she likes the wreath better than anything she has ever seen. The bear tells her she can have the golden wreath if she marries him.
The youngest daughter—offspring of royalty—hurries home and tells her father all about the adventure that she has had in the forest with the White Bear and his golden wreath. Like most fathers, the King is glad that his daughter has become interested in spiritual gold, but he is unwilling that she should marry a White Bear just to get it. So he tries various worldly tricks to keep her at home. A golden wreath is not that hard to get, so he speaks earnestly to the goldsmiths and asks them to make a wreath of the sort she has described. After some days of labor, the goldsmiths produce a wreath. The daughter says, “No, no. It was oval, not round.” So the goldsmiths go back to work and make a new wreath, and the daughter says, “No, the leaves were longer and thinner. They’re not willow-shaped, either.” So this process takes a long time. Sooner or later the father has to recognize that the heavenly wreath was not made by human hands. As human beings, our problem is how to get the golden wreath without paying a lot for it. But the daughter in us will not accept any halfway wreaths. She wants the real one, and she will have to marry the White Bear to get it.
The father thinks to himself, “The eyesight of bears is not very good. A bear couldn’t tell one of my daughters from another. By rights, my oldest daughter should be married first, so I’ll have a wedding dress made for her, and when the White Bear arrives, she will walk out to meet him. To a bear, one daughter is the same as another.”
So the White Bear tells the King he will come for his bride next Thursday. Next Thor’s Day? Thor, the god of thunder and lightning. That will be a good day. “It will turn out well,” the White Bear thinks. “Thor’s Day is the day for wild things. Wednesday—Odin’s Day—would not be so good. Odin is a kind of intellectual, a bit quarrelsome. Thor’s Day is better.”
Making ready for the White Bear’s arrival, the King has enlisted a few ne’er-do-wells, some out-of-work farmers, some one-armed carpenters, several barflies. He has given all of them weapons and placed them before the gates of the castle.
At about ten in the morning, when the White Bear arrived, the weapons the men had didn’t seem to work and the White Bear knocked them all down and entered the castle. He said, “Well, well. Is my sweet bride somewhere around here?”
The King led out his oldest daughter. She wasn’t much to look at, but he had put a veil over her head. The White Bear said, “Climb on my back.” She did this, and he set off for his own castle, which was a few miles away. He took a cross-country route through the pinewoods. She had to hold on to his fur, but his back was broad and the fur deep. After a while he said to her: “My dear, have you ever sat more softly than you are sitting now?” The oldest daughter said, “On my father’s lap, I did sit more softly than I’m sitting now.” After a bit he said, “Have you ever seen more clearly than you’re seeing now?” She said, “From my father’s castle I saw more clearly than I’m seeing now.”
“Oh no!” the White Bear said. “This is the wrong one.” And he threw her off his back and kept on going. So the oldest daughter had to get home on her own. The thornbushes and hemlock branches pulled at her clothes, and when she got home, hours and hours later, she was a mess. No one could have recognized her dress as a bridal dress.
On the next Thor’s Day, everyone figured the White Bear would show himself once more, and he did. This time the King had the second daughter ready to go; the seamstresses had worked up a new bridal dress, with a fairly thick veil, and the whole process started again. This time, the King brought in some soldiers from a neighboring regiment; he told them to dig rifle pits, and he even had a few cannons left over from the most recent war with Sweden.
By ten a.m. everything was ready, and sure enough, the White Bear arrived.
When he saw the rifles and guns aimed at him, he stood on his hind legs, gave a roar, and rushed in. Somehow, none of the bullets hit him. The cannon misfired, knocking over its own crew, and the battle-hardened soldiers threw away their muskets and headed for the south. The White Bear King walked into the castle grounds and said quietly to the King, “Is my bride somewhere nearby?”
Out came the second sister. “What a beautiful gown!” said the White Bear. She said her good-byes to her father and others, climbed onto the White Bear, and off they went. It wasn’t easy holding on; the White Bear definitely had somewhere to get to, and he rushed through the forest at a good pace. But he had a broad back. An hour or so later, the White Bear turned his head toward her. “Have you ever sat more softly than you’re sitting now?” “Oh yes,” she said, “at times when I sat on my father’s lap, I was sitting more softly than I am sitting now.” After a bit, the White Bear asked, “Have you ever seen more clearly than you’re seeing now?” “Oh yes,” she said, “when I went with my father to his lookout on top of the castle, I did see more clearly than I’m seeing now.”
“Bad news!” he said. “It’s the wrong one!” And the White Bear threw her off and rushed away. There she was, all alone in the woods, with prickly bushes and pieces of bark pulling at her bridal gown. It wasn’t long before she looked a mess. She did find her way home finally. The King and his servants did the best they could to fix her up, but she was not happy about what had happened.
The King spent the next week sending private messengers to Kings nearby, reminding them of favors in the past. From the neighboring Kings, he managed to get forty or so soldiers, as well as some specialists and out-of-work generals. They set up some pointed sticks. At ten o’clock on Thor’s Day they were all ready. The White Bear came loping along; no one could remember exactly what happened, but the soldiers got confused and went into battle with no shells in their guns, and the sharpshooters fell out of the trees; it was chaos. When the smoke cleared, the White Bear King was already inside the castle grounds, where he inquired politely, “I wonder if my dear bride is nearby.”
Now the youngest daughter came out of the castle, beautifully dressed in an old-fashioned wedding dress. The Queen’s maidservants all looked sad and adjusted the daughter’s gown. The King said a reluctant farewell. She climbed on the White Bear King Valemon’s back, and they were off.
The White Bear, going at a fast clip, turned his head after a few miles and asked, “Have you ever sat more softly than you’re sitting now?” The bride said, “Never.” After a while, he asked, “Have you ever seen more clearly than you’re seeing now?” “Never!” she said. “Ah, she’s the right one,” the White Bear said, and they kept going.
After a while they arrived at a castle, which was the home of the White Bear King. In that castle there was much elegance and abundance. Tall candles lit a table, and the Princess and the White Bear King dined together. He escorted her to the bedroom, which was very dark. But once they were both in bed, she would discover that he indeed had strong arms—and she was in bed with a man, and not a bear.
The Princess was lonesome sometimes in the castle during the day, but she looked forward to the night, which always went by in a sweet and affectionate way. After several months of this sort of life, she wasn’t surprised when she found herself with child. She prepared herself to give birth, and all of that went well. But the strange thing was that the baby disappeared soon after. No one could explain it. The baby was simply gone the morning after it was born. In the next two years, two other babies were born, and they both vanished in the same way.
So many strange things happened that the disappearance of the babies seemed to be just one thing more. But she was lonely, so one day she said, “I would like to go home and see my mother and father.” The White Bear King thought this was a good idea, and he said: “Trust what your father says, but you should be suspicious of your mother’s advice
.”
She did go home, and the homecoming was sweet. Of course, her sisters were very curious about how the White Bear King was as a husband. They had many questions. “Does he wash his paws every day? How do you deal with supper? Does he leave hair all over the floor? You need to have a look at him. Does he have very sharp teeth? You’d better find out what he’s really like or he might eat you up.” The sisters’ suspicions are not surprising. We know that each of us has greedy beings inside that are jealous. And we have fathers and mothers whose advice is often dubious and sometimes leads to suffering.
The mother and father could overhear the sisters’ conversation. “I think you should let things be as they are,” the father said to his youngest daughter. But the mother said, “Take this candle back with you. One night, after he has fallen asleep, light the candle and hold it up. Then you’ll know one way or the other who you are married to. That’s my advice.”
The Princess brought the candle back to the Bear King’s castle. The first night home they made love, and when her lover fell asleep, the Princess got up, quietly lit the candle, and held it up in the dark room. She looked first at his feet; they were large and shapely and seemed beautiful to her. His shins and knees were elegant. She moved the light over his thighs; they were strong and well-shaped, and other things in that neighborhood were handsome and fine. She found his stomach firm and his chest broad. He was without a doubt a lovely man; and now that she had seen his strong body, she was even more curious about his face. However, as she lifted the candle this time, one drop of hot wax fell on his shoulder and woke him up.
“Oh, my dear one! Why did you do that?” he cried. “If only you had waited another month, I could have been a human being both night and day! Now I can no longer stay here.” He turned into a bear and rushed out the door.
She cried out, “Don’t go!”
“Now I cannot stay,” he answered.
He rushed on all fours out of the castle and into the forest, and she ran after him. She tried to hold on to his fur, but the underbrush and branches tore at her, and she fell. The White Bear King rushed on ahead and the Princess was on the forest floor alone. She wandered around for a long time without shelter or food. If she met a person, she would ask about the White Bear King Valemon. The answer was always the same: “I’ve never heard of him.” After a long time, she saw a hut. When she knocked, the door opened. A woman lived there with a small girl. She was glad to talk with the woman. When she’d received some food, she got down on the floor and played with the little girl and asked her many questions about dollhouses and crickets.
Later, when she was about to leave, the little girl was sad. “Mother, she’s been so good to us. Could we give her the scissors?” The old woman said, “If you want to.” The scissors were special. Whenever the scissors were opened and closed, cloth appeared on its own. You could have any cloth you wanted: Indian silks, Irish linen, French lace, Danish flannel, and so on. The visitor was delighted to have the scissors. As she left the house, she said to the woman, “Might I inquire if you have seen the White Bear King Valemon?”
The woman said, “Yes, I have, as a matter of fact. He came past here about a month ago. He was traveling very fast—heading west.”
The Princess was glad to hear that news. She walked farther west through the forest, and a few days later she saw a second hut. Amazingly, it, too, was inhabited by a small girl and a woman. The woman served the traveler tea, as is only right, and shared the tea with the daughter, and the traveler asked her questions like, “Have you learned the alphabet yet? What stories do you know? Do you go to school? Do you have any friends in the woods?” This went on for quite a while. When she was about to leave, the daughter said, “Mother, she has been so good to us. Could we give her the flask?”
Now this flask was a remarkable flask—when you took off the cover and turned it, any liquid that one desired poured out. If you thought “cognac,” cognac came, or espresso came, or wine, or jasmine tea or chai or Persian liqueurs. “If you want to give her the flask, it’s okay,” the mother said. The small girl was so glad to give it to the visitor. After the visitor had thanked her hosts, she turned to the woman and asked, “May I ask if you’ve seen the White Bear King Valemon go by here?”
The mother answered, “I have. He came by here about a week ago. He was going very fast toward the west. I’m not sure you can catch up with him.” So the Princess walked faster now. After a while she happened on a third hut in which a woman lived with a young girl. Once more tea; once more the visitor paid much attention to the child. She helped her make little dolls out of pinecones and rags and asked her many questions. “Which animal would you be?” When the visitor was about to leave, the girl said, “Mother, she has been so good to us. Could we give her the tablecloth?”
This tablecloth was magic, too. Each time you spread it out on a table, food appeared on its own: roast duck, salmon, sweet-and-sour soup, lamb stew, potato cakes, chocolate mousse. Any dish that you thought of appeared. The woman said, “If you want to give her the tablecloth, that’s good.” As the visitor was about to go, she turned to the woman and said, “By the way, do you know where the White Bear King Valemon is now?” The mother replied, “I do! He came by here about three days ago, going west. I heard he’s on his way to the Glass Mountain.”
So the Princess hurried toward the Glass Mountain. After several days, she saw it looming over the trees. As she approached its base, she noticed the ground was covered with the bones of all the men and women who had tried to climb it and failed. The glassy sides were steep, and there were no footholds.
She noticed another hut nearby. When she knocked at the door and was invited in, she realized that it was different in several ways from the previous huts she had visited. A middle-aged woman, not young, not old, lived there with four young children. There was evidence of a man’s tools. The Princess saw no food anywhere; the family was obviously starving. Everyone’s clothes were tattered. Soon the children confided in her. “Lots of times we have no food. Mother tells us the stones are apples, and it does make the soup taste better.”
It didn’t take long for the Princess to open the tablecloth and spread it out.
Roast lamb, good cheese, and fresh vegetables appeared. The mother and the children ate and ate. And the flask poured orange juice and milk and hot cider. The visitor now took out the scissors and snipped out cloth for dresses, winter coats, woolen trousers, winter underwear, shawls, and socks. When supper was over, the tablecloth provided some salt beef, dried cod, goat cheese, and other things that would last the winter. When everyone had been provided for, the visitor turned to the mother and asked, “What has happened with the White Bear King Valemon?”
The woman looked at her awhile and said, “Are you the one? Are you the beloved who lifted the candle?” The visitor said yes, she was that one. She told how she had been searching for weeks and had walked a long time.
“Well,” the mother said, “the White Bear King is up on the mountain right over there; he is going to be married in three days.”
The Princess was shocked. “To whom?”
“Her,” the mother replied.
“What do you mean, Her?”
“Her. The Great One. She lives on top of the Glass Mountain, and she has a great appetite. Fat dogs tend to disappear when they get near her. She’s been known to eat a hundred roasted songbirds at one sitting. Skeleton hands serve her tea and footlong warts grow out of her nose. Many animals do whatever she wants. The wedding is in three days.”
The visitor thanked the woman and started out to climb the Glass Mountain.
But it was slippery. She could get no hold. She slipped and fell off its side again and again. The mother whose table she had heaped with food came out and said: “This isn’t going to work. I am grateful to you for feeding and clothing the children. Nothing could have been more wonderful. My husband is coming back tonight. He’s a blacksmith. I’ll ask him to make some iron claws for your hands and
feet. That’s what you need.”
So that’s how it went. The husband returned, the children told him what had happened with the food, and he stayed up all night making the iron claws. Just after dawn, the Princess put them on and started her climb.
* * *
Let’s pause for some comments here. We are partway through the story now. Everything in the narrative has flowed out of that first glimpse of the golden wreath. The story says that early on important things happen to us that make a tiny opening in the feeling world and a flow begins through that opening toward the Divine. Sometimes we have to remember years and years back to have a true glimpse of what made earlier openings. Antonio Machado, when he was still in the womb, was carried by his mother to a riverbank where she could see the dolphins that swam that year from the sea all the way to Seville. He remembered those dolphins. He said he saw them from inside the womb. The reality of the invisible was no problem for him. He wrote:
I love Jesus, who said to us:
Heaven and earth will pass away.
When heaven and earth have passed away,
my word will remain.
What was your word, Jesus?
Love? Affection? Forgiveness?
All your words were
one word: Wakeup!
As we read along in the tale of the White Bear, we are the youngest daughter of the King, one who loves the golden wreath and loves the being who plays with it, the Divine White Bear. We see that wreath in dreams, but where does the image of the golden wreath come from? Perhaps there have been a thousand lives, passed down, as the Tibetans might say, like the piece of wood in a relay race, from hand to hand, and never dropped. The golden wreath is one of those handovers. Finally we are the runner, and what do we do with this image we find in our hands? Well, we tell someone about it. And everyone responds to the wreath differently. Some might try to live a life utterly without sin for a year or two (ascetics and fundamentalists try that), or struggle to make works of art that resemble the golden wreath (many artists do that—I’ve done it for seventy years, more or less), or try to become beautiful like the wreath itself (Nijinsky tried that). But sooner or later, a voice inside us says, “The golden wreath is oval, not round. You got it wrong.”