Whales are enigmatic gentle giants of the ocean in our mythic imagination as well as in real life. Yet, far from being a passive character, whales are a formidable force to contend with. Whether it is the Biblical story of Jonah and the whale, or the beloved story of Pinocchio who also gets swallowed by a whale, or the haunting predatory whale in Herman Melville’s epic novel Moby Dick, an encounter with a whale in a story can awaken the mythic monster in our imagination, expose our human limitations and we learn we are sometimes at the mercy of larger forces. In contrast, there are also folktales that portray whales as nurturing protectors including Bahamut, the Islamic cosmic whale who carries the earth on its back, or Cá Ông (translated as “grandfather fish”), the Vietnamese sentinel of the deep who protects and cares for sailors during storms, or Tohorā is one of the many names given to whales among the New Zealand Māori, who see whales as supernatural guides shielding humans from the fury of storms. Hearing these stories we learn encountering a whale can be nurturing and redemptive, like being in the presence of a benevolent spiritual protector or oceanic mother. Over the course of human history - whether mythical or literal - our relationship with whales is characterized by both reverence and exploitation, as well as fear and kinship. Whales exist in that threshold between all these opposing places, and our collective human heritage of whale folklore bears the weight of the complex entanglement of these truths that swim through and among each other like schools of fish in that borderless underworld. . .

Whale myths and legends cannot be more relevant to us than our current contemporary moment where many of us feel we are living in a world filled with uncertainty, upheaval and seemingly insurmountable problems. We are most certainly in the midst of living in stormy seas, a liminal phase in human history that can also be likened to being in the belly of a whale. So much is hanging in the balance and many of us are left without a sense of what is to come. Understandably we may feel like Pinnochio caught feeling helpless in a world that overwhelms and swallows us up, or maybe we feel like Jonah where the forces of the outside formidable whale-like world seem intentionally out to punish us. It makes sense why some may be hoping for a divine power greater than us to help guide our boat, like a protective whale-like guardian angel who can shield us from this storm.

Michael Meade, renowned mythologist and storyteller, reminds us when we feel like the chaos of the world is overwhelming, or the end of the world is near, or that time is running out, there is a vital need for “once-upon-a-timeness”. In his book Why The World Doesn’t End: Tales of Renewal in Times of Loss, Meade reminds us that sometimes the best way forward in a time of uncertainty is to counterintuitively look behind us: “Before a meaningful future can be found, something ancient and enduring about the world must be rediscovered”. Turning to the deep wisdom of ancient myth and folktales that have withstood the rise and fall of many ages we can access a sacred timeless place where enduring truths are safely preserved for future generations to learn and benefit from. Meade reminds us that within the spell of an old tale we “learn where we are already threaded to the world and discover how we might be most useful to it”. Evoking the timeless spirit of myths and folktales and discovering where we find ourselves in these stories we can gain a deeper clarity of our purpose in the current moment, and tap into what he calls the “deep ancient mind” inside us that already knows the whole that can guide our boat forward in the midst of choppy seas.

Legends and folktales about whales are just as varied and unique as the variety of whales that exist out there from blue whales, to humpback whales, bowhead whales, right whales, orcas, and more. However, there are a few threads of similarity that coalesce into the archetype of the whale that weave together people and cultures from many different landscapes. These stories collectively portray whales as both maritime monsters and nurturing mother-like protectors and is precisely their unique capacity to exist as both that gives the whale such potency and transformative power in our mythic imagination, offering us a way to make meaningful sense of the chaos of our present-day times.

For one, whales can be intimidating because they are not only large creatures, but they draw our attention downwards both literally and psychologically. Often in our current times we are pressured to quickly move up the ladder, to strive to reach the top, we are pressured to only account for the visible world. Whales, on the contrary, slow us down and show us the value of the descent below the surface of what is usually visible into the depths of the underworld. They remind us of the value of turning inwards and looking at what is unseen and unknown in the deep darkness where things have been buried and forgotten.

According to whale folklore of the Tikigagmiut (Inupiaq) people who live in northwest Alaska, the Tikigaq Peninsula which they have inhabited for thousands of years was once a whale-like creature, and after it was killed by a harpooner the people lived on its body both geographically and also depended on the body of the whale for sustenance. For centuries the bowhead whale has and continues to be the center of Tikigagmiut culture. Even though whale hunting is fraught with danger and dependence on whale meat not an easy way to survive, the bowhead whale continues to be intertwined with the Tikigagmiut sense of identity, and revered as an elder (the bowhead whale can live up to 200 years!). It lives at the threshold where the cross currents of myth and reality swirl together entwining humans and the whale together forging a relationship of physical survival and also a relationship of kinship and emotional bonding. In Tikigagmiut whale folklore, inside the belly of the whale is a magnificent sanctuary furnished with elegance and splendor, where a beautiful woman lives within the arched ribcage of whalebones offering comfort and solace to seafarers caught in rough seas. This sacred tunnel of bones is believed to be a temple of initiation and transformation. This particular image of the belly of a whale is potent and powerful and teaches us that sometimes the treasure we gain is something we only discover after being swallowed.

A whale folktale from Vietnamese maritime folklore contains a similar theme. With three thousand miles of coastline, Vietnam has an ancient, vibrant and enduring seafaring culture including many folktales of altruistic whales that people came to revere as deities which you can see evidence of in the many temples constructed along the coastline purposely built for whale worship. According to one Vietnamese maritime legend, Quan Âm (also known as Quan-Yin in China and Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva in Sanskrit), witnessed the plight of a poor fisherman caught inside a storm and felt compelled to rescue him. She tore off part of her robe and wrapped it around some elephant bones which transformed into a whale that overthrew the storm and saved the fisherman. Some say this is how Vietnamese people gave whales the name "cá voi" (which literally means "elephant fish"). This folktale is one in a collection of similar stories that together make up a broader, overarching story of how Quan Âm came to be the Buddha of Compassion - a story found throughout Asia. In her life Quan Âm offers many parts of her body, as well as her time and powers in service to help other suffering beings. As time passes she becomes so overwhelmed by all the pain, hatred, suffering of the world that her heart breaks into a thousand pieces. The only witness is Amitabha, one of the five supreme primordial Buddhas, who picks up the scattered pieces of Quan Âm’s heart and puts them back together, this time gifting her with a thousand arms, a thousand hands and a thousand eyes and eleven heads all of which strengthen and amplify her capacity to continue her work helping those who are suffering. The wisdom of this folktale is about how when things fall apart, we stand to gain more skills and an enhanced capacity if we can bring ourselves to pick up the pieces and find the latent potential in the ruin. This concept is very much like the Japanese art of Kintsugi where broken pieces of pottery are pieced together with gold rendering a new piece that is often considered more valuable and unique than the original, and sometimes the repaired version draws attention to aspects of the pottery that were originally overlooked. This folktale is about giving weight and value to the art of repair and the act of reassembling after something is broken or shattered. In our everyday lives it is about discovering in the act of restoration more potential to actualize one’s purpose. . .very similar to the conceiving of the belly of a whale as a place of refuge and transformation in Tikigagmiut folklore.

In Massachusetts where I live, the Wampanoag of Noepe (aka Martha’s Vineyard), the original indigenous inhabitants of this landscape, have a folk hero named Moshup who is described to be of immense size. Stories often compare his height to the tallest trees and his girth to the spread of a large pine tree. Despite his formidable presence, Moshup was benevolent and taught people skills related to the sea including fishing and hunting for whales which they needed to survive. He then transformed into a great white whale himself and disappeared into the ocean. In fact they say that Moshup helped shape the Massachusetts landscape including various features you can find in Martha’s Vineyard, Nantucket and Cape Cod today. For example the various colors of clay that make up the Aquinnah Cliffs on Martha’s Vineyard are said to be from the black charcoal Moshup used for his fire to roast whale meat, the yellow clay was stained by yellow whale grease, and red clay was stained from the blood of the whales. In fact the Aquinnah Cliffs were considered the location of Moshup’s school, the sacred location where he passed on his knowledge for the survival of the Wampanoag people. This story, like the Tikigagmiut and Vietnamese whale stories is a story about how whales are intertwined with our human identity, our human survival, as well as our emotional growth whether they swallow us up, offer their bodies to us as food, protect us from storms, or teach us how to survive.

These stories show us how an encounter with something much larger than us that overwhelms and overpowers us can serve to deepen us, and renew our sense of purpose. This is quite different from the prevalent attitude that predominates our media which casts overwhelming experiences (like political turmoil, environmental catastrophe, and social upheaval) as something we either get defeated by or something we are in a perpetual battle with that we must win and if we don’t we feel a sense of failure. The wisdom of ancient whale myths that can be found in so many cultures teaches us we’re not here to bargain or battle with the whale, our deepest challenges are not our punishment. Rather than avoiding defeat we must stop being afraid of the whale’s enormity by recognizing there is a purpose and deep value in being defeated over and over again, and our task is to discover it. In the story of Pinocchio by the Italian author Carlo Collodi, the act of being swallowed by a whale serves as a pivotal moment for Pinocchio’s character development. It is in the belly of a whale that he confronts the consequences of his actions, and the ordeal inside the whale acts as as an alchemical catalyst for his growth and motivates him to change. It is not the end, but rather, the threshold and liminal place he transforms and emerges a more emotionally mature empathetic person. Pinocchio shows us that within an experience of defeat we have the choice to be entombed, or we can see the experience as a womb within which we can cultivate our own inner agency to rebirth ourselves.

Rama, the main folk-hero in the Hindu epic Ramayana encounters a Timingila, a gargantuan mythical sea monster on his journey across the sea to rescue his beloved wife Sita. In the world of Hindu mythology, the Timingila is a terror of the deep, a herald of doom, with such colossal magnitude that whales are its meals. It lives and haunts the fathomless depths of Patala Loka, the cosmic ocean and Hindu mythic underworld. In fact the word Timingila literally translates to "whale-swallower" in Sanskrit, where "timi" means whale and "gila" means to swallow. The encounter with a Timingila enables Rama’s true character to shine through, as well as the strength of his devotion and resolve - all of which serve to make him a hero. Once again we see how a formidable challenge, like an encounter with a Timingila, is what the hero needs to fully be become a hero.

Across the world in Hawai’i, we find another mythic whale that is associated with formidable power, yet also recognized for its role in birthing something new. In Hawai’i the whale is believed to be a kinolau (animal form) of the Hawaiian ocean god Kanaloa who is associated with the immense power and mysteries of the ocean, while also at the same time, is associated with the nurturing life-sustaining aspect of the ocean. This balance of opposites is a defining feature of Kanaloa's role overseeing and safe-guarding the marine world as a whole. Once again in this folktale, like many others mentioned earlier, whales culturally and psychologically play a dual role as both monsters and mothers: they can entomb and also serve as a womb that nurtures, revives, draws out our true potential.

Finally in the cold gray icy waters surrounding Iceland, fishermen from ancient times reported being hunted and haunted by terrifying species of whales. One formidable character from Icelandic maritime myth and lore is the Nauthveli, also known as the “Ox Whale”, a creature of insatiable greed with a bull-like head and spotted cow-like body, who haunts sailors with its petrifying bellow which resembles the sound of an ox. Folktales of the Nauthveli recount how it purposefully swims near the coast and when it hears the cows in the fields lowing, it bellows in return luring the cows, spellbound, off the cliffs into the waters below into its monstrous sharp-toothed jaws. It has even been said that its bellow is so thunderous it sometimes knocks the oars out of fishermen’s hands. Another is the Lyngbakur, also known as “heather-back” because when it rises out of the water, its enormous sized back resembles a small island overgrown with heather. Once it was reported that some fishermen mistook the Lyngbakur’s whale’s back for a real island and found it to be a beautiful spot to rest, so they camped on it for two days but when they least expected it, it sank into the depths of the ocean. Luckily they had a boat nearby and lived to tell the tale. However, in other accounts of the Lyngbakur included in the famous saga of the Norse legendary hero Ǫrvar-Oddr, the island of heather would sink and drown those who took refuge on its back. Even today the legacy and lore of the whales off of Iceland’s icy coast still endure. There is certainly something that we find captivating about the dark mystery of the sea monster itself, even when it remains a monster and we are tragically it’s prey and we are not the heroes in the end. The enigmatic monster of the deep seas, whether real or imaginary, serves a deep psychological purpose. When we learn about the Nauthveli and Lyngbakur the monsters in our everyday lives seem less formidable, more manageable, we can handle and survive them because it could be so much worse!

In all of these maritime folktales from Vietnam to Iceland, the whale is a symbol and metaphor for life’s greatest challenges. In many of these stories we can see how an encounter with a whale teaches us how to be in right relationship with what overwhelms us and challenges us. At the heart of whale lore, time and time again, we are shown how being in the presence of a whale, or recognizing we are in the belly of a whale, is a moment when the hero or heroine is asked to stop battling and to surrender to being swallowed, and only then can s/he discover a more purpose-informed way forward. In this way, the value of the whale proves to be as enormous as its size. Through these whale folktales we learn how through the ages whales have fed us both literally and psychologically: we have depended on them to grow. Reframing the experience of being swallowed by a whale as a potential place and time for transformation we enter back into right relationship with the wild, a more ancient and enduring shared human value that extends back into ancient times . . .We begin to understand the true wisdom of whales, the monster and the mother, in our mythic imagination.

Finally, whales are migrating creatures and a whale-centered view of the world disrupts our usual human-oriented sense of place as they wonder in their borderless underworld. The same whales enter into folklore and myths from landscapes thousands of miles away from each other. To offer a few migratory paths: North Pacific humpback whales migrate from Alaska to Hawaii; North Atlantic humpback whales migrate from the coast of North America to the Caribbean; Gray Whales migrate from the Bering Sea and Chukchi Sea in Alaska to the lagoons of Baja California, Mexico. Whale migrations are seasonal and dependent on food sources and calving, meaning they are time bound and yet the cyclical nature of their travel makes their journey timeless. Whales exist in that in-betweenness, their pilgrimage around the earth is both untethered and free, yet purposeful and intentional. The great beauty of it is that underneath the human battles and wars that are being fought above ground live the migrating whales in the depths of their watery world, calmly and elegantly weaving together the world. Perhaps this is the greatest gift whales offer us as they gently wander and swim their way into our myths and stories which collectively share the same wisdom expressed in different human voices and languages. The more we connect with our ancient whale myths, the more we discover the ancient depths of our human-to-human connections, and the more we realize how much whales have meant to us as they grow us into more fully potentiated beings.

As whales wonder in their borderless underworld they evoke a question as old as the sea mist itself: In a borderless world, what does it mean to belong? Perhaps we can find an answer in the spell of whale tales where we are poetically and lyrically transported back into deep time, an ancient enchanted world where human identity is forged around living in fidelity to relationship rather than national borderlines: whether it is relationship to nature, relationship to each other, relationship to the landscape. . . a cohesive awe-inspiring planetary love story weaving us into belonging with the world.

Call it pure magic or folktale alchemy, ancient folktales of whales show us how to transcend the limited confines of our beliefs about “monsters” and “mothers” forging instead an unexpected potent and powerful relationship between the two. In the depths of their oceanic underworld, whales draw us into the spell of a timeless, enduring, borderless realm where battles and borders no longer have real meaning. Through our ancient mythic relationship with one of the earths most enigmatic oceanic giants, we learn surrendering to the whale, honoring her, and yielding to the alchemy of being in her belly, is not a failure at all but a deep call to action. In the face of life’s greatest challenges, the wisdom of whales reminds us of our agency, our transformative potential and opportunity to reflect on what is being asked of us.

Note* It is impossible to talk about whales without including mention of the whaling industry which is a contradiction in and of itself: its impacts are monstrous, yet also have mothered us into new ways of relating to each other. On the one hand the whaling industry was responsible for the drastic decline in whale populations pushing numerous species toward extinction. On the other hand, the whaling industry fostered multicultural connections. Whalers from various backgrounds including Native Americans, Europeans, African Americans and Pacific Islanders, often formed crews, sharing knowledge, practices, and traditions while adapting to the harsh realities of life at sea. The whaling industry also provided a unique chance for individuals to escape the confines of enslavement, a pathway to freedom from the confines of the oppressive structures of the American South. The legacy of whaling is thus a complex tapestry of human enterprise, cultural exchange, and profound ecological consequences. . .a parallel story in some ways to the Monster/Mother role of whales in the mythic imagination.

Blog Post Cover Image Photo Credit: Till Rottmann on Pexels

References:

Bruchac, Joseph., & Caduto, Michael., (1997). “The Gift of the Whale”. Keepers of the Animals: Native American Stories and Wildlife Activities for Children. Fulcrum Publishing.

Baldur Hlíðberg, Jon., and Ægisson, Sigurður. (2008). Meeting with Monsters – An Illustrated Guide to the Beasts of Iceland. JPV útgáfa.

Chappel, Gavin (Trans.). (2011). The Complete Fornaldarsögur Norðurlanda: Legendary Sagas of the Northland.

Davidsson, O. (1900). The Folk-lore of Icelandic Fishes. The Scottish Review. October, pp. 312-332.

Einhorn, Harry (2022). The Hero of Compassion: How Lokeshvara Got One Thousand Arms. Shambhala Publications.

Hawaiian Islands Humpback Whale National Marine Sanctuary. “The Cultural Significance of Whales in Hawai’i”. [Brochure].

Humphrey, Chris., Osborne, Zoe., Graham, Magnus. (May 10, 2022). “Vietnam’s Whale Worshippers”. Aljazeera.

Lowenstein, Tom (1994). Ancient Land, Sacred Whale: The Inuit Hunt and Its Rituals. New York : Farrar, Straus, and Giroux.

Narasignha, Swami B.G. (Sept 11. 2009). “Timingila - Myth or Fact?”. Sri Narasingha Chaitanya Ashram website gosai.com.

Pinto-Rodrigues, Anne (Sept 13, 2022). “Inside Vietnam’s Whale Temples”. Smithsonian Magazine.

Ronnberg, Ami., Martin, Kathleen (Eds.). (2010). The Book of Symbols: Reflections of Archetypal Images. Köln : Taschen.

Sayet, Rachel (2012). “Moshup's Continuance: Sovereignty and the Literature of the Land in the Aquinnah Wampanoag Nation”. Thesis. [Master of Liberal Arts, Anthropology, Harvard University].

More blog posts

Latest Posts