Release The Kraken!

The Kraken is a thing of beauty. I fell in love with it from the moment I saw it on old time maps labeled “Sea Monster.” Its appearance is always welcome in anything I watch. There's something deliciously dangerous about a monster from the deep that is the sum of our fears of the unknown. The fear of the Kraken feels timeless and achingly human. Even before it had a name, it existed. It existed in the same way we feel dread about dark places. It exists in the same way that loneliness crawls into our body and makes us feel helpless. It wasn't until the early 18th century that we got the name “Kraken.” But, as long as there's been ocean and people, there has been the belief in monsters of the deep.

With the advancement of science, a more globalized world, and the birth of more pressing modern fears, the Kraken's hold on us no longer seems frightening or relevant. Historians have deduced that the creatures these authors and sailors were describing were most likely large squid or octopus. Which if you think about it, makes perfect sense as it is the ultimate fisherman's tall tale. The bigger the better. This is the same with folktales. The ones that we carry through centuries tend to be the biggest tall tales of all. Bigfoot didn't get to where he was being a little foot. Paul Bunyan didn't create the Grand Canyon by dragging a tiny ax. These stories of folklore enchant us, because they are bigger than life and beyond our human comprehension. Folklore is how we explain away the magic of things we don't understand or fear. In a world of folklore, the Kraken is still a King. It's a mythos that transcends borders and time.

This is a monster we all share and continue to share regardless of our nationality or what century we live in simply because its home is the ocean.

The ocean is already a wild frontier. Even with all our technology, there is still so much mystery in the deep that we have yet to access. The Kraken is one of the most versatile folktales in art and literature.

Countless books, and a long winding list of television and movies feature the Kraken. So much so, it isn't worth listing, because it is very likely you can already name a few yourself. The Kraken is the epitome of ocean horror, and I love how it continues to evolve to fit our modern sensibilities.

My second favorite flavor of the Kraken is that it is Davy Jones's pet in PIRATES OF THE CARRIBEAN: DEAD MAN'S CHEST (2006). On the surface, the idea of this behemoth being a pet is kind of adorable, because the connotation of it being a pet instantly makes me think of cuteness. “Does Kraken want some tentacle rubs? What a good molllusca you are? Did you eat up all your ship? Until you do, there will be no snacks of the human Captain Crunch kind.” See, so cute! Like Clifford the Big Red Dog of the Sea.

Upon further reflection, the very idea that someone has power over such a creature is truly horrifying. It's like if someone could make Godzilla do whatever they desired. The monsters aren't really the problem. If we leave them alone, they leave us alone. People though? We know people. People don't tend to always be so great. Anyone having control over a monstrosity like the Kraken is a nightmare twice fold. They probably should've reported Davy Jones for not adhering to leash laws.

I recently saw a modern take on the Kraken in Our Flag Means Death that blew me away. I still think about it. It haunts me. It made me even consider getting a back tattoo of the Kraken, but being a Japanese-Okinawan girl, maybe a tattoo with tentacles is asking for trouble. All I know is, I had never thought of my war with trauma as a Kraken that lives inside me. I had never thought about how one of my favorite sea monsters embodied the unbridled rage that lives down deep and strikes when I'm most vulnerable. I had no idea that I am my own Kraken.

Blackbeard's emotional journey in Our Flag Means Death was brutal for me to follow. In the beginning of the series, I was right there with him rooting for his little ember of hope. I loved that while completely capable of functioning successfully in the dirty, grimy, and lawless pirate life, it was all smoke and mirrors. Survivalism will have you burying any sense of true self in exchange for being “safe” and in control. When Blackbeard rediscovered his softness and joy, I cheered and wept tears of happiness that one of us broken ones had managed to escape. I wept at the discovery that broken ones like us could be loved for who we are and not for what we do. The Kraken he had been carrying was fading. The monster down deep was finally at peace.

Then the finale... I was shipwrecked by my own Kraken, a behemoth of fury and grief. Watching Blackbeard's heartbreak was the equivalent of Liam Neeson yelling, “Release the Kraken!” and feeling all my hopes for myself disintegrate. I wanted to believe I was more than the monstrosity inside me. I wanted to believe that I belonged enough to thrive on land with the others. I wanted to believe that I could kill the Kraken.

But, reality is cold. Just like Blackbeard, I had to face my Kraken once again. The second time around, I realized a few things I hadn't before. Not all of us are meant for land. Maybe some of us are born wild. The Kraken isn't a monster. Not really. I feel sorry for it, when it is forced to surface into a world it doesn't know. In the dark, the Kraken can see its way. Under all the pressure, the Kraken feels weightless. Yet, when it surfaces, the cataclysmic moment that normal people fear, the Kraken is blinded by the light and flailing from the lack of pressure that kept it stable.

It might seem like a stretch, but maybe we've been reading Kraken all wrong. It's a soft-bodied creature, too big to play with others, and the destruction it causes comes from being on its own for so long. These are things that I can empathize with. These are feelings that are universal. So here we again, remembering why all these layers make it such a perfect folklore monster. From the outside, it's a force of darkness and destruction. It lives in a place very few can go and collectively, we are scared. From the inside, the Kraken is symbolic of our own trauma, hurt, fear, and isolation.

In another post about pirates, I mentioned that there exists the dream of the pirate life in many of us. The desire for freedom, for adventure, and excitement are all enticing and speak to the human spirit.

How fitting it is, then, that the pirate's counterpart, the Kraken represents the monster that lives inside of all of us. The hurt, the fear, and the loneliness that you're running from is more normal than you think.

There are others.

You just have to find out where you belong, but that's a very complex thing to have to figure out isn't it.

I'm thankful for the movies, television, books, and folk tales that help me process these complex feelings in a medium I can handle and enjoy.

I found out that I belong at sea with the other big, soft, awkward, introverted monsters. It's a Kraken life for me. But, I can live with it. The water feels cool. There's so much space to explore and grow. In the safety of my darkness, I feel weightless, and should I get too bored, I can go find some silly pirates to play with.