Courting Your Wild Twin | PASSAGES :010
From conformity to wildness & the tale of the Lindworm
“If it is true that this is your brother, then we must not send hunters into the forest to slaughter it. We must send the poets, the musicians, the storytellers to court it from its lair. It needs to be with us. It needs to come home. We need to make a home for the serpent.” —The Lindworm
Happy Sunday!
I’m getting into a different kind of PASSAGE this week to take us on the journey inward. (New subscribers—WELCOME!!!—and check out the post “Adventures on Aisle Number Two” to get some more context about these weekly posts). Below is my retelling of “The Lindworm,” a folktale from north-central Europe, inspired by Martin Shaw’s retelling of the tangled tale from Courting the Wild Twin. Lines in italics are his. The rest is mine, as is the brief commentary on the tale that follows.
Thoughts? Feelings? Ideas?
When the Queen finally gave birth, it was to twins.
The midwife, however, was the only one who knew this tiny little detail. She kept it to herself for good reason, she thought. Because when the first of the pair emerged, it was a small, slithering black snake. She instinctively grabbed the writhing worm, fresh out of the womb, and Uncle-Rico’ed it into the forest. No need to tell the Queen and King about this disturbing firstborn. Besides, they had plenty to be happy about since twin number two was so so so cute.
Years passed, and the cutie grew into a handsome prince. One day he ventured out into the woods. Farther he went into the forest, past the typical hunting spots he had enjoyed, far deep into the dreaming. He came to a crossroads, and it was there that his life utterly changed. Suddenly, a massive, scaled, black serpent rose up before him. “Older brothers marry first!” the serpent howled.
The young prince bolted back to the castle, encountering the huge serpent and its proclamation repeatedly. He was distraught. Upon his return he investigated the haunting claim of the creature and the truth was revealed—not by his clueless parents, but by the midwife’s confession: the handsome prince was the second born; he had a wild twin in the woods—the writhing worm turned scaled serpent.
They all got quiet, and out of that wise kind of silence the Queen spoke: “If it is true that this is your brother, then we must not send hunters into the forest to slaughter it. We must send the poets, the musicians, the storytellers to court it from its lair. It needs to be with us. It needs to come home. We need to make a home for the serpent.”
They prepared a place in the castle for the exiled elder brother. With food and song they invited the snake home. When the son finally returned, they waited for him to speak. After scorching a few castle decorations here and there, he finally spoke: “Older brothers marry first!”
“Shit, he’s right. But who on earth would marry this wild monster?” the Queen and King worried and wondered together as they went to bed that night. Nevertheless, the next day they had their social media managers spread the word about the eligible bachelor to the entire kingdom.
After a series of unfortunate visits from some local maidens, which ended with a few piles of fresh bones surrounding the monstrous serpent, a brave shepherd’s daughter with a secret plan came to visit the serpent son. The guard at the door saw her enter with her chin up and a steel brush in her hand. As the door closed behind the young woman, the guard thought he heard her say to the black serpent, “Hello, you must be my dear husband.”
No one, save the shepherd’s daughter and the firstborn, knows exactly what transpired that night. But in the morning the Queen and King along with the younger twin heard laughter coming from the serpent’s chamber. They knocked on the door and when they entered they saw the beautiful, brave shepherd’s daughter and, next to her, a man—someone with an ordinary beauty the new princess would love her whole life—with the face of someone sent into exile a long time ago.
The Queen and King were overjoyed! About the restoration of their firstborn. About the reunion of their twin sons. About their new daughter-in-law and the massive wedding celebration they would soon host—make that two, since the younger prince’s nuptials would soon follow now that that whole “older brothers marry first” thing had been resolved. And about all the ways the entire realm had been transformed since the wild twin’s return.
They were so overjoyed, in fact, that none of them asked how this miracle had happened.
Nor did they notice the layers and layers of shed scales piled up in a dark corner of the room.
* * *
There is a community within each one of us. Ruling parts and quiet parts, hurt parts and healing parts, compliant parts and, yes, even wild parts.
It’s this last part—the wild one within—that so often gets exiled. It just isn’t cut out for the conformity of castle life. It twists and turns in ways that don’t fit squarely inside the confines of so-called culture. So we learn to ignore it. Because ignoring it makes some things easier for us. Eventually, we completely cast it away into obscurity.
Until one day, sensing there is something more, we venture out into the woods, beyond the well–trodden paths we’ve walked before, and encounter this inner wildness. What we witness shakes us to our core. It terrifies us. Can this really be? Has this always been here? Is this my forgotten birthright?
We have a choice on this day. To hit it over the head with a shovel and bury it. To flee. To suppress what we’ve seen. To never tell a soul. And go back to the supposed stability and security inside the castle walls.
Or we can tell the truth—first and foremost to ourselves—and welcome this wildness back home. We can reclaim this essential part of who we really are.
When you choose the latter option, know that the wild one doesn’t return easily. Trust needs to be rebuilt with the various parts of yourself. This is what it means to court the wild twin. Be wise. Woo it. Wine and dine it. Give it your attention. Don’t thrust it into the limelight too soon, but let it know it belongs.
It always has.
There is room for your wild twin, and there’s no rivalry. There’s room for every part of you.
It will take some time. It will hurt like hell. But, eventually, the layers that have kept you estranged from yourself will be sloughed off. You will recognize yourself again. You will be restored to wholeness.
***For more on this journey from conformity to wildness, pre-order my forthcoming book The Way Home: Discovering the Hero’s Journey to Wholeness at Midlife.