Drowning: Parallels Between the Rusalka Poem and Spiritual Belief

Alexander Pushkin Portrait by Orest Kiprensky, 1827

Ivan Kramskoi,Rusalki (The Mermaids"), 1871

Witold Pruszkowski Rusałki, 1877

Andrea and Micah recorded a reading of this poem on the world-famous podcast, “Tales of Bedlam.”

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin's "The Rusalka" is a haunting tale of sorrow, transformation, and the peril of clinging to the past. The Rusalka, a water spirit born of human tragedy, could symbolize the dangers of unresolved emotions and the seductive pull of religion to fill the empty and unknown in our lives. The poem's theme mirrors how personal spiritual beliefs can entangle and overwhelm us, leading to a form of spiritual drowning.

In the poem, the Rusalka's song is beautiful yet fatal, drawing unsuspecting listeners to their demise. Similar to how some spiritual beliefs or dogmas can initially be enticing, offering promises of clarity, salvation, or purpose. However, when these beliefs are rooted in fear, guilt, or unresolved pain, they may lead to inner stagnation rather than liberation. Like Rusalka's call, such beliefs can trap us in cycles of doubt and despair, drowning our ability to move forward.

The Rusalka is born from betrayal and heartbreak, her human life abandoned for an eternal existence in a watery depth. This transformation speaks to how spiritual struggles often stem from unresolved trauma or emotional wounds. When we fail to confront these sources of pain, our spiritual beliefs become a means of escape rather than healing. Instead of seeking healing, we are submerged in a world of illusion sustaining our suffering.

Just as Rusalka's victims are ensnared by her beauty and allure, individuals become trapped by rigid spiritual frameworks. When we unquestioningly place faith in external doctrines or ideologies, we risk losing our ability to think critically about our beliefs. This surrender to external forces can lead to a disconnection from our true selves, leaving us adrift and vulnerable.

The lesson of Rusalka is not simply a cautionary tale but an invitation to reflect on the nature of our spiritual journey. To avoid drowning in beliefs that no longer serve us, we must confront our inner Rusalka—the unresolved emotions, fears, and doubts that pull us under. By doing so, we can transform our spiritual practices into powerful tools for empowerment, breaking free from the entrapment of our inner Rusalka and embracing a new level of spiritual growth.

The parallels between Rusalka and the spiritual beliefs that drown us remind us of the delicate balance between surrender and self-awareness. While the allure of certain beliefs may seem comforting, actual spiritual growth requires us to navigate the depths with courage and clarity. We can rise above the waters and reclaim our lives by acknowledging our fears and embracing change, fostering deeper self-awareness.

Here is Alexander Pushkin’s Poem:

The Rusalka

A LEGEND OF THE WATER-SPRITE

In forest depths, beside a mere,

A monk once made his habitation ;

Absorbed in penances severe,

In fast and prayer he sought salvation.

Already by his own poor spade

His grave was hollowed to receive him,

And every day the good saint prayed

That Heaven from earth would soon relieve him.

One summer's eve, the hermit poor,

At prayer within his narrow room,

Looked out beyond his humble door

And saw the forest wrapped in gloom ;

Night-mists were rising from the mere,

Between the clouds the moon 'gan peep;

The monk unto the pool drew near

And gazed into its waters deep.

He saw himself—drew back perturbed

By fears he ne'er had known before ;

For, lo, the waters were disturbed,

Then suddenly grew calm once more ;

'While fitful as a twilight shade,

Than virgin snow more purely white,

From out the pool appeared a maid

Approaching in the silver light.

She shook the bright drops from her hair

And gazed upon the anchorite ;

To look upon her form so fair

The good monk trembled with affright.

And he beheld her from afar

With head and hand strange signals make,

Then swifter than a shooting star

Dive back into the silent lake.

All night the hermit could not sleep,

All day in agony he prayed ;

But still he could not choose but keep

The image of that wondrous maid

Before him. So, when day did wane,

And overhead the moon was bright,

He watched, and saw her come again

In all her beauty, dazzling white.

She beckoned to him where he stood,

And gave him greeting glad and free.

She played and splashed about the flood,

She laughed and danced in childish glee,

As softly to the monk she cried :

' Come hither, monk, and join me here!'

Then suddenly she dipped to hide

Her beauty in the darkling mere.

The third day came—grown mad with love,

The hermit sought th' enchanted shore

Ere yet night's veil was drawn above,

And waited for the maid once more.

Dawn broke—the monk had disappeared . . .

And now the frightened children say

He haunts the pool: and lo! his beard

Floats on the water night and day.

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin