INTRO
When the Princess Melisande was born, her mother, the Queen, wished to have a christening party, but the King put his foot down and said he would not have it.
“I’ve seen too much trouble come of christening parties,” said he. “How ever carefully you keep your visiting-book, some fairy or other is sure to get left out, and you know what that leads to. Why, even in my own family, the most shocking things have occurred. The Fairy Malevola was not asked to my great grandmothers christening-and you know all about the spindle and the hundred years’ sleep.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” said the Queen. “My own cousin by marriage forgot some stuffy old fairy or other when she was sending out the cards for her daughter’s christening, and the old wretch turned up at the last moment, and the girl drops toads out of her mouth to this day.”
“Just so. And then there was that business of the mouse and the kitchen- maids,” said the King; “we’ll have no nonsense about it. I’ll be her godfather, and you shall be her godmother; and we won’t ask a single fairy; then none of them can be offended.”
“Unless they all are,” said the Queen.
And that was exactly what happened. When the King and the Queen and the baby got back from the christening the parlourmaid met them at the door, and said-
“Please, your Majesty, several ladies have called. I told them you were not at home, but they all said they’d wait.”
“Are they in the parlour?” asked the Queen.
“I’ve shown them into the Throne Room, your Majesty,” said the parlourmaid. “You see, there are several of them.”
There were about seven hundred. The great Throne Room was crammed with fairies, of all ages and of all degrees of beauty and ugliness good fairies and bad fairies, flower fairies and moon fairies, fairies like spiders and fairies like butterflies-and as the Queen opened the door and began to say how sorry she was to have kept them waiting, they all cried, with one voice, “Why didn’t you ask me to your christening party?”
“I haven’t had a party,” said the Queen, and she turned to the King and whispered, “1 told you so.” This was her only consolation.
“You’ve had a christening,” said the fairies, all together.
“I’m very sorry,” said the poor Queen, but Malevola pushed forward and said, “Hold your tongue,” most rudely.
Malevola is the oldest, as well as the most wicked, of the fairies. She is deservedly unpopular, and has been left out of more christening parties than all the rest of the fairies put together.
“Don’t begin to make excuses,” she said, shaking her finger at the Queen. “That only makes your conduct worse. You know well enough what happens if a fairy is left out of a christening party. We are all going to give our christening presents now. As the fairy of highest social position, I shall begin. The Princess shall be bald.”
The Queen nearly fainted as Malevola drew back, and another fairy in a smart bonnet with snakes in it, stepped forward with a rustle of bats’ wings. But the King stepped forward too.
“No you don’t!” said he. “I wonder at you, ladies, I do indeed. How can you be so unfairylike? Have none of you been to school-have none of you studied the history of your own race? Surely you don’t need a poor, ignorant King like me to tell you that this is no go?”
“How dare you?” cried the fairy in the bonnet, and the snakes in it quivered as she tossed her head. “It is my turn, and I say the Princess shall be-”
The King actually put his hand over her mouth.
“Look here,” he said; “I won’t have it. Listen to reason-or you’ll be sorry afterwards. A fairy who breaks the traditions of fairy history goes out-you know she does-like the flame of a candle. And all tradition shows that only one bad fairy is ever forgotten at a christening party and the good ones are always invited; so either this is not a christening party, or else you were all invited except one, and, by her own showing, that was Malevola. It nearly always is. Do I make myself clear?”
Several of the better-class fairies who had been led away by Malevola’s influence murmured that there was something in what His Majesty said.
“Try it, if you don’t believe me,” said the King; “give your nasty gifts to my innocent child-but as sure as you do, out you go, like a candle-flame. Now, then, will you risk it?”
No one answered, and presently several fairies came up to the Queen and said what a pleasant party it had been, but they really must be going. This example decided the rest. One by one all the fairies said goodbye and thanked the Queen for the delightful afternoon they had spent with her.
“It’s been quite too lovely,” said the lady with the snake-bonnet; “do ask us again soon, dear Queen. I shall be so longing to see you again, and the dear baby,” and off she went, with the snake-trimming quivering more than ever.
When the very last fairy was gone the Queen ran to look at the baby- she tore off its Honiton lace cap and burst into tears. For all the baby’s downy golden hair came off with the cap, and the Princess Melisande was as bald as an egg.
“Don’t cry, my love,” said the King. “I have a wish lying by, which I’ve never had occasion to use. My fairy godmother gave it me for a wedding present, but since then I’ve had nothing to wish for!”
“Thank you, dear,” said the Queen, smiling through her tears.
“I’ll keep the wish till baby grows up,” the King went on. “And then I’ll give it to her and if she likes to wish for hair she can.”
“Oh, won’t you wish for it now?” said the Queen, dropping mixed tears and kisses on the baby round, smooth head.
“No, dearest. She may want something else more when she grows up. And besides, her hair may grow by itself.”
But it never did. Princess Melisande grew up as beautiful as the sun and as good as gold, but never a hair grew on that little head of hers. The Queen sewed her little caps of green silk, and the Princess’s pink and white face looked out of these like a flower peeping out of its bud. And every day as she grew older she grew dearer, and as she grew dearer she grew better, and as she grew more good she grew more beautiful.
Now, when she was grown up the Queen said to the King-
“My love, our dear daughter is old enough to know what she wants. Let her have the wish.”
So the King wrote to his fairy godmother and sent the letter by a butter fly. He asked if he might hand on to his daughter the wish the fairy had given him for a wedding present.
“I have never had occasion to use it,” said he, “though it has always made me happy to remember that I had such a thing in the house. The wish is as good as new, and my daughter is now of an age to appreciate so valuable a present.”
To which the fairy replied by return of butterfly: –
“DEAR KING, -Pray do whatever you like with my poor little present. I had quite forgotten it, but I am pleased to think that you have treasured my humble keepsake all these years.
“Your affectionate godmother,
“FORTUNA F.”
So the King unlocked his gold safe with the seven diamond-handled keys that hung at his girdle, and took out the wish and gave it to his daughter.
And Melisande said: “Father, I will wish that all your subjects should be quite happy.”
But they were that already, because the King and Queen were so good. So the wish did not go off.
So then she said: “Then I wish them all to be good.”
But they were that already, because they were happy. So again the wish hung fire.
Then the Queen said: “Dearest, for my sake, wish what I tell you.”
“Why, of course I will,” said Melisande. The Queen whispered in her ear, and Melisande nodded. Then she said, aloud-
“I wish I had golden hair a yard long, and that it would grow an inch every day, and grow twice as fast every time it was cut, and-”
“Stop,” cried the King. And the wish went off, and the next moment the Princess stood smiling at him through a shower of golden hair.
“Oh, how lovely,” said the Queen. “What a pity you interrupted her, dear; she hadn’t finished.”
“What was the end?” asked the King.
“Oh,” said Melisande, “I was only going to say, ‘and twice as thick.”
“It’s a very good thing you didn’t,” said the King. “You’ve done about enough.” For he had a mathematical mind, and could do the sums about the grains of wheat on the chess-board, and the nails in the horse’s shoes, in his Royal head without any trouble at all.
“Why, what’s the matter?” asked the Queen.
“You’ll know soon enough,” said the King. “Come, let’s be happy while we may. Give me a kiss, little Melisande, and then go to nurse and ask her to teach you how to comb your hair.”
“I know,” said Melisande, “I’ve often combed mother’s.”
“Your mother has beautiful hair,” said the King; “but I fancy you will find your own less easy to manage.”
Indeed, it was so. The Princess’s hair began by being a yard long, and it grew an inch every night. If you know anything at all about the simplest sums you will see that in about five weeks her hair was about two yards long. This is a very inconvenient length. It trails on the floor and sweeps up all the dust, and though in palaces, of course, it is all gold-dust, still it is not nice to have it in your hair. And the Princess’s hair was growing an inch every night.
When it was three yards long the Princess could not bear it any longer-it was so heavy and so hot-so she borrowed nurse’s cutting-out scissors and cut it all off, and then for a few hours she was comfortable.Although, the hair went on growing, and now it grew twice as fast as before; so that in thirty-six days it was as long as ever.
The poor Princess cried with exhaustion; when she couldn’t bear it any more she cut her hair and was comfort able for a very little time. For the hair now grew four times as fast as at first, and in eighteen days it was as long as before, and she had to have it cut.
Then it grew eight inches a day, and the next time it was cut it grew sixteen inches a day, and then thirty-two inches and sixty-four inches and a hundred and twenty-eight inches a day, and so on, growing twice as fast after each cutting, till the Princess would go to bed at night with her hair clipped short, and wake up in the morning with yards and yards and yards of golden hair flowing all about the room, so that she could not move without pulling her own hair, and nurse had to come and cut the hair off before she could get out of bed.
“I wish I was bald again,” sighed poor Melisande, looking at the little green caps she used to wear, and she cried herself to sleep o’ nights between the golden billows of the golden hair. But she never let her mother see her cry, because it was the Queen’s fault, and Melisande did not want to seem to reproach her.
When first the Princess’s hair grew her mother sent locks of it to all her Royal relations, who had them set in rings and brooches. Later the Queen was able to send enough for bracelets and girdles. But presently so much hair was cut off that they had to burn it. Then when autumn came all the crops failed; it seemed as though all the gold of harvest had gone into the Princess’s hair. And there was a famine. Then Melisande said-
“It seems a pity to waste all my hair; it does grow so very fast. Couldn’t we stuff things with it, or something, and sell them, to feed the people?”
So the King called a council of merchants, and they sent out samples of the Princess’s hair, and soon orders came pouring in; and the Princess’s hair became the staple export of that country. Merchants stuffed pillows with it, and they stuffed beds with it. They made ropes of it for sailors to use, and curtains for hanging in Kings’ palaces. They made haircloth of it, for hermits and other people who wished to be uncomfy. But it was so soft and silky that it only made them happy and warm, which they did not wish to be. So the hermits gave up wearing it, and, instead, mothers bought it for their little babies, and all well-born infants wore little shirts of Princess-haircloth.
And still the hair grew and grew. And the people were fed and the famine came to an end.
Then the King said: “It was all very well while the famine lasted-but now I shall write to my fairy godmother and see if something cannot be done.”
So he wrote and sent the letter by a skylark, and by return of bird came this answer-
“Why not advertise for a competent Prince? Offer the usual reward.”
So the King sent out his heralds all over the world to proclaim that any respectable Prince with proper references should marry the Princess Melisande if he could stop her hair growing.
Then from far and near came trains of Princes anxious to try their luck, and they brought all sorts of nasty things with them in bottles and round wooden boxes. The Princess tried all the remedies, but she did not like any of them, and she did not like any of the Princes, so in her heart she was rather glad that none of the nasty things in bottles and boxes made the least difference to her hair.
The Princess had to sleep in the great Throne Room now, because no other room was big enough to hold her and her hair. When she woke in the morning the long high room would be quite full of her golden hair, packed tight and thick like wool in a barn. And every night when she had had the hair cut close to her head she would sit in her green silk gown by the window and cry, and kiss the little green caps she used to wear, and wish herself bald again.
It was as she sat crying there on Midsummer Eve that she first saw Prince Florizel.
He had come to the palace that evening, but he would not appear in her presence with the dust of travel on him, and she had retired with her hair borne by twenty pages before he had bathed and changed his garment and entered the reception-room.
Now he was walking in the garden in the moonlight, and he looked up and she looked down, and for the first time Melisande, looking on a Prince, wished that he might have the power to stop her hair from growing. As for the Prince, he wished many things, and the first was granted him. For he said-
“You are Melisande?”
“And you are Florizel?”
“There are many roses round your window,” said he to her, “and none down here.”
She threw him one of three white roses she held in her hand. Then he said-
“White rose trees are strong. May I climb up to you?”
“Surely,” said the princess. So he climbed up to the window
“Now,” said he, “if I can do what your father asks, will you marry me?”
“My father has promised that I shall,” said Melisande, playing with the white roses in her hand.
“Dear Princess,” said he, “your father’s promise is nothing to me. I want yours. Will you give it to me?”
“Yes,” said she, and gave him the second rose.
“I want your hand.”
“Yes,” she said.
“And your heart with it.”
“Yes,” said the Princess, and she gave him the third rose.
“And a kiss to seal the promise.”
“Yes,” said she.
“And a kiss to go with the hand.”
“Yes,” she said.
“And a kiss to bring the heart.”
“Yes,” said the Princess, and she gave him the three kisses.
“Now,” said he, when he had given them back to her “to-night do not go to bed. Stay by your window and I will stay down here in the garden and watch. Arid when your hair has grown to the filling of your room call to me, and then do as I tell you.”
“I will,” said the Princess.
So at dewy sunrise the Prince, lying on the turf beside the sun-dial, heard her voice-
“Florizel! Florizel! My hair has grown so long that it is pushing me out of the window.”
“Get out on to the window sill said he and twist your hair three times round the great iron hook that is there.”
And she did.
Then the Prince climbed up the rose bush with his naked sword in his teeth, and he took the Princess’s hair in his hand about a yard from her head and said-
“Jump!”
The Princess jumped, and screamed, for there she was hanging from the hook by a yard and a half of her bright hair; the Prince tightened his grasp of the hair and drew his sword across it.
Then he let her down gently by her hair till her feet were on the grass, and jumped down after her.
They stayed talking in the garden till all the shadows had crept under their proper trees and the sun-dial said it was breakfast time.
Then they went in to breakfast, and all the Court crowded round to wonder and admire. For the Princess’s hair had not grown.
“How did you do it?” asked the King, shaking Florizel warmly by the hand.
“The simplest thing in the world,” said Florizel, modestly. “You have always cut the hair off the Princess. I just cut the Princess off the hair.”
“Humph!” said the King, who had a logical mind. And during breakfast he more than once looked anxiously at his daughter. When they got up from breakfast the Princess rose with the rest, but she rose and rose and rose, till it seemed as though there would never be an end of it. The Princess was nine feet high.
“I feared as much,” said the King, sadly. “I wonder what will be the rate of progression. You see,” he said to poor Florizel, “when we cut the hair off it grows-when we cut the Princess off she grows. I wish you had happened to think of that!”
The Princess went on growing. By dinnertime she was so large that she had to have her dinner brought out into the garden because she was too large to get indoors. But she was too unhappy to be able to eat anything. And she cried so much that there was quite a pool in the garden, and several pages were nearly drowned. So she remembered her “Alice in Wonderland,” and stopped crying at once. But she did not stop growing. She grew bigger and bigger and bigger, till she had to go outside the palace gardens and sit on the common, and even that was too small to hold her comfortably, for every hour she grew twice as much as she had done the hour before.
Nobody knew what to do, nor where the Princess was to sleep. Fortunately, her clothes had grown with her, or she would have been very cold indeed, and now she sat on the common in her green gown, embroidered with gold, looking like a great hill covered with gorse in flower.You cannot possibly imagine how large the Princess was growing, and her mother stood wringing her hands on the castle tower, and the Prince Florizel looked on broken-hearted to see his Princess snatched from his arms and turned into a lady as big as a mountain.
The King did not weep or look on. He sat down at once and wrote to his fairy godmother, asking her advice. He sent a weasel with the letter; and by return of weasel he got his own letter back again, marked “Gone away. Left no address.”
It was now, when the kingdom was plunged into gloom, that a neighbouring King took it into his head to send an invading army against the island where Melisande lived. They came in ships and they landed in great numbers, and Melisande looking down from her height saw alien soldiers marching on the sacred soil of her country.
“I don’t mind so much now,” said she, “if I can really be of some use this size.”
And she picked up the army of the enemy in handfuls and double- handfuls, and put them back into their ships, and gave a little flip to each transport ship with her finger and thumb, which sent the ships off so fast that they never stopped till they reached their own country, and when they arrived there the whole army to a man said it would rather be courtmartialled a hundred times over than go near the place again.
Meantime Melisande, sitting on the highest hill on the island, felt the land trembling and shivering under her giant feet.
“I do believe I’m getting too heavy,” she said, and jumped off the island into the sea, which was just up to her ankles. Just then a great fleet of war ships and gunboats and torpedo boats came in sight, on their way to attack the island.
Melisande could easily have sunk them all with one kick, but she did not like to do this because it might have drowned the sailors, and besides, it might have swamped the island.
So she simply stooped and picked the island as you would pick a mush room-for, of course, all islands are supported by a stalk underneath-and carried it away to another part of the world. So that when the warships got to where the island was marked on the map they found nothing but sea, and a very rough sea it was, because the Princess had churned it all up with her ankles as she walked away through it with the island.
When Melisande reached a suitable place, very sunny and warm, and with no sharks in the water, she set down the island; and the people made it fast with anchors, and then every one went to bed, thanking the kind fate which had sent them so great a Princess to help them in their need, and calling her the saviour of her country and the bulwark of the nation.
But it is poor work being the nation’s bulwark and your country’s saviour when you are miles high, and have no one to talk to, and when all you want is to be your humble right size again and to marry your sweetheart. And when it was dark the Princess came close to the island, and looked down, from far up, at her palace and her tower and cried, and cried, and cried. It does not matter how much you cry into the sea, it hardly makes any difference, however large you may be. Then when everything was quite dark the Princess looked up at the stars.
“I wonder how soon I shall be big enough to knock my head against them,” said she.
And as she stood star-gazing she heard a whisper right in her ear. A very little whisper, but quite plain.
“Cut off your hair!” it said.
Now, everything the Princess was wearing had grown big along with her, so that now there dangled from her golden girdle a pair of scissors as big as the Malay Peninsula, together with a pin-cushion the size of the Isle of Wight, and a yard measure that would have gone round Australia.
And when she heard the little, little voice, she knew it, small as it was, for the dear voice of Prince Florizel, and she whipped out the scissors from her gold case and snip, snip, snipped all her hair off, and it fell into the sea. The coral insects got hold of it at once and set to work on it, and now they have made it into the biggest coral reef in the world; but that has nothing to do with the story.
Then the voice said, “Get close to the island,” and the Princess did, but she could not get very close because she was so large, and she looked up again at the stars and they seemed to be much farther off.
Then the voice said, “Be ready to swim,” and she felt something climb out of her ear and clamber down her arm. The stars got farther and farther away, and next moment the Princess found herself swimming in the sea, and Prince Florizel swimming beside her.
“I crept on to your hand when you were carrying the island,” he explained, when their feet touched the sand and they walked in through the shallow water; “and I got into your ear with an ear-trumpet. You never noticed me because you were so great then.”
“Oh, my dear Prince,” cried Melisande, falling into his arms, “you have saved me. I am my proper size again.”
So they went home and told the King and Queen. Both were very, very happy, but the King rubbed his chin with his hand, and said-
“You’ve certainly had some fun for your money, young man, but don’t you see that we’re just where we were before? Why, the child’s hair is growing already.”
And indeed it was.
Then once more the King sent a letter to his godmother. He sent it by a flying-fish, and by return of fish came the answer-
“Just back from my holidays. Sorry for your troubles. Why not try scales?”
And on this message the whole Court pondered for weeks.
But the Prince caused a pair of gold scales to be made, and hung them up in the palace gardens under a big oak tree. And one morning he said to the Princess-
“My darling Melisande, I must really speak seriously to you. We are getting on in life. I am nearly twenty: it is time that we thought of being settled. Will you trust me entirely and get into one of those gold scales?”
So he took her down into the garden, and helped her into the scale, and she curled up in it in her green and gold gown, like a little grass mound with buttercups on it.
“And what is going into the other scale?” asked Melisande.
“Your hair,” said Florizel. “You see, when your hair is cut off you it grows, and when you are cut off your hair you grow-oh, my heart’s delight, I can never forget how you grew, never! But if, when your hair is no more than you, and you are no more than your hair, I snip the scissors between you and it, then neither you nor your hair can possibly decide which ought to go on growing.”
“Suppose both did,” said the poor Princess, humbly.
“Impossible,” said the Prince, with a shudder; “there are limits even to Malevola’s malevolence. And, besides, Fortuna said ‘Scales.’ Will you try it?”
“I will do whatever you wish,” said the poor Princess, “but let me kiss my father and mother once, and Nurse, and you, too, my dear; in case I grow large again and can kiss nobody any more.”
So they came one by one and kissed the Princess.
Then the nurse cut off the Princess’s hair; and at once it began to grow at a frightful rate.
The King and Queen and nurse busily packed it, as it grew, into the other scale, and gradually the scale went down a little. The Prince stood waiting between the scales with his drawn sword, and just before the two were equal he struck. But during the time his sword took to flash through the air the Princess’s hair grew a yard or two, so that at the instant when he struck the balance was true.
“You are a young man of sound judgment,” said the King, embracing him, while the Queen and the nurse ran to help the Princess out of the gold scale.
The scale full of golden hair bumped down on to the ground as the Princess stepped out of the other one, and stood there before those who loved her; laughing and crying with happiness, because she remained her proper size, and her hair was not growing any more.
She kissed her Prince a hundred times, and the very next day they were married. Every one remarked on the beauty of the bride, and it was noticed that her hair was quite short-only five feet five and a quarter inches long- just down to her pretty ankles. Because the scales had been ten feet ten and a half inches apart, and the Prince, having a straight eye, had cut the golden hair exactly in the middle!
Nesbit, E. “Melisande.” Nine Unlikely Tales. London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1901.
A. Minnekaev illustration for E. Nesbit’s, “Princess Melisande”.
“When young children, especially girls, wake from an evening’s slumber with tangles and snarls in their hair, mothers with a tradition of fairy folklore might whisper to their daughters that they had caught fairy locks or elf-locks. Faeries, they say, tangled and knotted the hairs of the sleeping children as they played in and out of their hair at night.”
Another entry which references snarled hair at the hand of fairies “Shakespeare references such elflocks in Romeo and Juliet in Mercutio’s speech of the many exploits of Queen Mab, where he seems to imply the locks are only unlucky if combed out.” …
“She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate stone…….
That plaits the manes of horses in the night
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes.”
Therefore, the appellation of elf lock or fairy lock could be attributed to any various tangles and knots of unknown origins appearing in the manes of beasts or hair of sleeping children.”
“It can also refer to tangles of elflocks or fairy-locks in human hair. In King Lear, when Edgar impersonates a madman, “he elfs all his hair in knots.”[3](Lear, ii. 3.) What Edgar has done, simply put, is made a mess of his hair.”
…There in thoroughly satisfies my snarly hair folk lore! I hope you enjoyed it and now is there a hair treatment for repelling the snarly hair fairy? who must be a very mischievous little sprite! MM to the rescue of those tangles!
The Demon with the Matted Hair (Hair Stories Contest)
This story the Teacher told in Jetavana about a brother who had ceased striving after righteousness. The teacher said to him, “Is it really true that you have ceased all striving?”–”Yes, blessed one.” the brother replied. Then the teacher said, “Oh brother, in former days wise men made effort in the place where effort should be made, and so attained unto royal power.” The teach began to tell a story of long ago.
Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as son of his chief queen. On his name-day they asked 800 Brahmans, having satisfied them with all their desires, about his lucky marks. The Brahmans who had skill in divining from such marks beheld the excellence of his, and made answer:
“Full of goodness, great king, is your son, and when you die he will become king; he shall be famous and renowned for his skill with the five weapons, and shall be the chief man in all of India.” On hearing what the Brahmans had to say, they gave him the name of the Prince of the Five Weapons, sword, spear, bow, battle-axe, and shield.
When he came to years of discretion, and had attained the measure of sixteen years, the King said to him:
“My son, go and complete your education.”
“Who shall be my teacher?” the prince asked.
“Go, my son to the kingdom of Candahar, in the city of Takkasila, is a far-famed teacher from whom I wish you to learn. Take this, and give it him for a fee.” With that he gave him a thousand pieces of gold, and dismissed him.
The lad departed, and was educated by this teacher; he received the Five Weapons from him as a gift, bid him farewell, and leaving Takkasila, he began his journey to Benares, armed with the Five Weapons.
On his way he came to a forest inhabited by the Demon with the Matted Hair. Near the entrance of the forest some man saw him, and cried out:
“Hello, young sir, keep clear of that wood! There’s a demon in it called, he of the Matted Hair, he kills every man he sees!” Bodhisatta approached, having confidence in himself, went straight on, fearless as a maned lion.
When he reached mid-forest the demon showed himself. He made himself as tall as a palm tree; his head was the size of a pagoda, his eyes as big as saucers, and he had two tusks all over knobs and bulbs; he had the face of a hawk, a variegated belly, and blue hands and feet.
“Where are you going?” he shouted. “Stop! You’ll make a meal for me!”
Bodhisatta replied, “Demon, I came here trusting in myself. I advise you to be careful how you come near me. Here’s a poisoned arrow, which I’ll shoot at you and knock you down!” Bodhisatta then fitted to his bow an arrow dipped in deadly poison, and let fly. The arrow stuck fast in the demon’s hair. Then he shot and shot, till he had shot away fifty arrows; and they all stuck in the demon’s hair. The demon snapped them all off short, and threw them down at his feet; then came up to the Bodhisatta, who drew his sword and struck the demon, threatening him all the while. His sword–it was 33 inches long–stuck in the demon’s hair! The Bodhisatta struck him with his spear–that stuck too! He struck him with his club–and that stuck too!
When the Bodhisatta saw that this had stuck fast, he addressed the demon. “You, demon!” he said, “did you never hear of me before–the Prince of the Five Weapons? When I came into the forest which you live in I did not trust to my bow and other weapons. This day will I pound you and grind you to powder!” Thus did he declare his resolve, and with a shout he hit at the demon with his right hand. It stuck fast in his hair! He hit him with his left hand–that stuck too! With his right foot he kicked him–that stuck too; then with his left–and that stuck too! Then he butted at him with his head, crying, “I’ll pound you to powder!” and his head stuck fast like the rest.
Thus the Bodhisatta was five times snared, caught fast in five places, hanging suspended: yet he felt no fear–was not even nervous.
The demon to himself: “Here’s a lion of a man! A noble man! More than man is he! Here he is, caught by a demon like me; yet he will not fear a bit. Since I have ravaged this road, I never saw such a man. Now, why is it that he does not fear?” He was powerless to eat the man, but asked him: “Why is it, young sir, that you are not frightened to death?”
“Why should I fear, demon?” replied he. “In one life a man can die but once. Besides, in my belly is a thunderbolt; if you eat me, you will never be able to digest it; this will tear your inwards into little bits, and kill you: so we shall both perish. That is why I fear nothing.” (By this, the Bodhisatta meant the weapon of knowledge which he had within him.)
When he heard this, the demon thought: “This young man speaks the truth. A piece of the flesh of such a lion-man as he would be too much for me to digest, if it were no bigger than a kidney-bean. I’ll let him go!” So, being frightened to death, he let go the Bodhisatta, saying “Young sir, you are a lion of a man! I will not eat you up. I set you free from my hands, as the moon is disgorged from the jaws of Rahu after the eclipse. Go back to the company of your friends and relations!”
Bodhisatta said: “demon, I will go, as you say. You were born a demon, cruel, blood-bibbing, devourer of the flesh and gore of others, because you did wickedly in former lives. If you still go on doing wickedly, you will go from darkness to darkness. But now that you have seen me you will find it impossible to do wickedly. Taking the life of living creatures causes birth, as an animal, in the world of Petas, in the body of an Asura or if one is reborn as a man, it makes his life short.” With this and the like monition he told him the disadvantage of the five kinds of wickedness, and the profit of the five kinds of virtue, and frightened the demon in various ways, discoursing to him until he subdued him and made him self-denying, and established him in the five kinds of virtue; he made him worship the deity to whom offerings were made in that wood; and having carefully admonished him, departed out of it.
At the entrance of the forest he told all to the people thereabout; and went on to Benares, armed with his five weapons. Afterwards, the Prince of the Five Weapons became king, and ruled righteously. After giving alms and doing good, he passed away according to his deeds.
The Teacher, when this tale was ended, became perfectly enlightened, and repeated this verse:
Whose mind and heart from all desire is free,
Who seeks for peace by living virtuously,
He in due time will sever all the bonds
That bind him fast to life, and cease to be.
Thus the Teacher reached the summit, through sainthood and the teaching of the law, and thereupon he declared the Four Truths. At the end of the declaring of the Truths, this Brother also attained to sainthood. Then the Teacher made the connexion, and gave the key to the birth- tale, saying: “At that time Angulimala was the demon, but the Prance of the Five Weapons was I myself.”
The learning I got from this fable:
About being fearless in your beliefs and in doing good with nature and all living things. In doing so, you are in divine partnership and will suffer no hardships and will live a life of virtue: simple but powerful. I have course witnessed in my life similarities that when I am open to nature and ‘spreading the love’ as I put it – love and abundance comes back to me. A small thing, I was outside yesterday picking up garbage around my condo building – I like to do this – it gives me pride where I live and I swear the ‘nature fairies’ are happy…in any case – I picked up a big piece of discarded paper and underneath was a $20!! I laughed and said THANK YOU!!”
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Going beyond our lore and ideas of archetypes, when we hear the term ―element,‖ most of us probably think of something akin to idea of a building block. Or, if you have a science background, perhaps you think of sodium and oxygen and other ―elements‖ of the periodic table – which are considered – once again – the building blocks of nature.
But, like our fairies, gods, and demons, when the Five Elements are described as forces or energies in Chinese Medicine and Ayurveda, they are considered more dynamic. A great macrobiotic master, Michio Kushi, explains that this term ―element‖ really implies something moving, something dynamic; something that is always in transformation – a flow from one state into another that can be identified, but never isolated. It is like asking the question, is light a wave or a particle? The answer is, it depends on how you are looking at it. In the systems of Chinese medicine and Ayurveda elements are described as identifiable states of being, of manifestation, along the spectrum from…
Which in turn brings us around to conception again. If we take these ideas of Conception, Gestation, Solidification, Maturation, and Dissolution, we can look at anything and everything we do. Let‘s take an idea that we come up with. We conceive of an idea, which we then gestate by pondering and thinking it over. As the idea becomes clear, more solid in our minds, it gets to the point where it is mature enough to be expressed and it is dispersed or dissolved into space where other people then get to think about it and the cycle goes. There is an orderliness in every aspect of nature that can be explained in terms of these Five Elements; the way they flow into one another, the way they support each other, even the way they may inhibit or destroy one another.
Photo Credit: “Samson and Delilah” – Gustave Dore
As a hair shaman, I think that one of the greatest stories ever told about our crowning glory and its magic, mystery, and power is the biblical story of Samson.
Most theologians and philosophers would never realize this. They don‘t see the deeper meaning when the Bible says Samson‘s hair was his link to the divine and his source of strength. But it is so obvious, shouting to us loud and clear! Of course, like all such stories, there are layers upon layers of meaning and information. Although, the story of Samson‘s crowning glory is too important to be just brushed aside. If we keep it simple, not only does the story of Samson tell us about our crowning glory, it also reveals one of the most important features of what it takes to have perfect health and great looking hair detoxification.
According to the Bible, Samson‘s crowning glory was gorgeous and very masculine and powerful. And just like my vision of the grass on the mound of my youth, not only was his Crowning Glory amazing to look at, it was also his source of universal power, connecting him to the Divine. The Bible even says that because Samson was special to God, no hair on his head had ever seen a razor. And through his hair, Samson received the ch‘I, the powerful energies of the universe though his crown chakra. These energies transformed into his physical energy and great strength.
Sometimes we are just too good looking for our own good. We can get careless and forget how the Five Elements in nature support our strength and connection to the sublime and divine, and that we need to take special care for our gifts. And that is what happened to Samson. In his vanity and pride, he didn‘t fully appreciate what God had given him. He became careless with his secret, the secret of his power—his crowning glory. Enters Delilah.
The Bible gives Delilah a bad reputation. She was a temptress, a daughter of the evil Philistines, the sworn enemy of the Israelites. Even her name means “weak.” She was sent to tempt Samson, to render him powerless. And that is what she did. Even though he mocked her and played hard to get, Delilah persisted. She spent time with Samson and wooed him night after night. We can see a great interplay and flow between the masculine and feminine powers as our hero and heroine become closer. Then, through Samson‘s hair, his crown chakra, Delilah is able to take control of her lover. Ultimately, she only accomplished a betrayal of Samson and her inner self.
All shamans know that there are some secrets that should not be told. It‘s not because they want to be stingy or hold special power over others, but because some secrets need to be passed on properly, to people who understand how to use them way they were intended. In the wrong hands, such secrets can go off like nuclear bombs.
When I received my first shamanic teaching from my Brazilian friend at Kenneth‘s, I was sworn to secrecy. I have honored that promise to her to this very day.
Samson knew one of those secrets. His crowning glory, he had a special connection to God and the divine. But one night, to prove his love and loyalty to Delilah, he gave away this precious secret.
The Bible says that Delilah was the cause of Samson‘s downfall. What made Samson vulnerable to her charms and guile was his own pride, toxic emotions, and a disregard for the magic and mystery of his crowning glory and the connection it forged between him and God. During those nights with Delilah, he ate and drank until he was delirious and out of control. He lost the magic, mystery, and power of what should have been cherished and kept secret. Through his habits and attitudes, Samson became disconnected and Delilah had no problem cutting off his Crowning Glory. Without it, he lost his strength and became powerless.
Consider this: what if Delilah did Samson a favor? With his pride and toxic emotions, he had become full of himself. If he was going to get back to his connection to the divine, something had to give. Delilah actually did him the most amazing favor. By shaving his head, she got rid of the history his hair had stored. She detoxified him—and made him open and available for new divine energy to come in.
The Philistines made Samson a slave. He ate very little (like a fast) and did hard, physical labor, causing him to sweat a lot. During this detox process, the Bible says that the Philistines did not pay attention to one little detail of their captive. Samson crowning glory started to grow back! As a result, that new head of hair, and a mind and body freed of toxins, Samson reconnected with the divine. Slowly but surely, the new, non-toxic Samson, with a new and cleansed crowning glory emerged—even more powerful than before.
Not only does the Bible give us the first great story of detoxification, it is also an example of the first great revelation in Western stories of the importance of our crowning glory. This appreciation remains alive in the hands of the masterful barbers I visited in all of the small villages throughout Europe.
This information about hair has been hidden from the public since the Vietnam War.
Our culture leads people to believe that hair style is a matter of personal preference, that hair style is a matter of fashion and/or convenience, and that how people wear their hair is simply a cosmetic issue. During the Vietnam war however, an entirely different picture emerged, one that has been carefully covered up and hidden from public view.
In the early nineties, Sally [name changed to protect privacy] was married to a licensed psychologist who worked at a VA Medical hospital. Her husband worked with combat veterans with PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder. Most of them had served in Vietnam.
Sally said, “I remember clearly an evening when my husband came back to our apartment on Doctor’s Circle carrying a thick official looking folder in his hands. Inside were hundreds of pages of certain studies commissioned by the government. He was in shock from the contents. What he read in those documents completely changed his life. From that moment on my conservative middle of the road husband grew his hair and beard and never cut them again. What is more, the VA Medical center let him do it, and other very conservative men in the staff followed his example.
As I read the documents, I learned why. During the Vietnam War special forces in the war department had sent undercover experts to comb American Indian Reservations looking for talented scouts, for tough young men trained to move stealthily through rough terrain. They were especially looking for men with outstanding, almost supernatural, tracking abilities. Before being approached, these carefully selected men were extensively documented as experts in tracking and survival.
With the usual enticements, the well proven smooth phrases used to enroll new recruits, some of these Indian trackers were then enlisted. Once enlisted, an amazing thing happened. Whatever talents and skills they had possessed on the reservation seemed to mysteriously disappear, as recruit after recruit failed to perform as expected in the field.
Serious causalities and failures of performance led the government to contract expensive testing of these recruits, and this is what was found.
When questioned about their failure to perform as expected, the older recruits replied consistently that when they received their required military haircuts, they could no longer ‘sense’ the enemy, they could no longer access a ‘sixth sense’, their ‘intuition’ no longer was reliable, they couldn’t ‘read’ subtle signs as well or access subtle extrasensory information.
So the testing institute recruited more Indian trackers, let them keep their long hair, and tested them in multiple areas. Then they would pair two men together who had received the same scores on all the tests. They would let one man in the pair keep his hair long, and gave the other man a military haircut. Then the two men retook the tests.
Time after time the man with long hair kept making high scores. Time after time, the man with the short hair failed the tests in which he had previously scored high scores.
Here is a Typical Test:
The recruit is sleeping out in the woods. An armed ‘enemy’ approaches the sleeping man. The long haired man is awakened out of his sleep by a strong sense of danger and gets away long before the enemy is close, long before any sounds from the approaching enemy are audible.
In another version of this test the long haired man senses an approach and somehow intuits that the enemy will perform a physical attack. He follows his ‘sixth sense’ and stays still, pretending to be sleeping, but quickly grabs the attacker and ‘kills’ him as the attacker reaches down to strangle him.
This same man, after having passed these and other tests, then received a military haircut and consistently failed these tests, and many other tests that he had previously passed.
So the document recommended that all Indian trackers be exempt from military haircuts. In fact, it required that trackers keep their hair long.”
Comment:
The mammalian body has evolved over millions of years. Survival skills of human and animal at times seem almost supernatural. Science is constantly coming up with more discoveries about the amazing abilities of man and animal to survive. Each part of the body has highly sensitive work to perform for the survival and well being of the body as a whole.The body has a reason for every part of itself.
Hair is an extension of the nervous system, it can be correctly seen as exteriorized nerves, a type of highly evolved ‘feelers’ or ‘antennae’ that transmit vast amounts of important information to the brain stem, the limbic system, and the neocortex.
Not only does hair in people, including facial hair in men, provide an information highway reaching the brain, hair also emits energy, the electromagnetic energy emitted by the brain into the outer environment. This has been seen in Kirlian photography when a person is photographed with long hair and then rephotographed after the hair is cut.
When hair is cut, receiving and sending transmissions to and from the environment are greatly hampered. This results in numbing-out .
Cutting of hair is a contributing factor to unawareness of environmental distress in local ecosystems. It is also a contributing factor to insensitivity in relationships of all kinds. and can contribute to sexual frustration.
Conclusion:
In searching for solutions for the distress in our world, it may be time for us to consider that many of our most basic assumptions about reality are in error. It may be that a major part of the solution is looking at us in the face each morning when we see ourselves in the mirror.
The story of Sampson and Delilah in the Bible has a lot of encoded truth to tell us. When Delilah cut Sampson’s hair, the once undefeatable Sampson was defeated.
Reported by C. Young