The Final Word

Well, I think I probably enjoyed the book more than you did. But, Joseph Campbell is a name that I remember from childhood being associated with the original Star Wars (a defining interest in my youth) and, thus, with cool things. So, I'm glad I've finally thoroughly read one of his most famous manuscripts.

As to your critiques about lack of analysis, I wonder if it's just not as we've talked about before: the subject matter is very large, very general, and, thus, difficult to do specific and deep rigorous analyzing. I suppose one of my critiques is that the book does not have enough examples of mythology. No doubt trends and similarities can be found in the mythologies of different peoples from different places, but it seems one would have to compile a large number of myths to substantiate that. Campbell has a number, but I can't but have the feeling that the similarities ought to be more apparent than the examples he provides. But, that also requires getting past the extensive red tape of worthy translations to make valuable comparisons.

Also, I often had the sense that Campbell's thoughts are all only partially mature. While I agree with some of his claims, he seems to carry a grudge against the Christianity in the West at the time. The portion I read of Bill Moyer's interview with Campbell The Power of Myth showed a deeper and more fundamental understanding of myth, as well as a greater maturity about life. His claims and notions still were very broad, none too specific, but they had a more focused spirit, if you will. No doubt, much of this came with time, but it seemed to make a better crafted understanding, not one that seemed so loose.

You touched on this, and Campbell touches on this in the last chapter of the book, but one of the most fascinating issues about myth now is its modern predicament. What is its place in our culture? What does it mean to you and me, to your kids? It feels like we need new stories of mythology, new myths to guide us adapted to the modern framework. If they are stories to help show us our places in society and in the world, clearly views of the individual, society and the world have changed significantly in the past several thousand years, and that's where the tension comes in. It's like new wine in old wine bags, or misshapen gears trying to work together. There's a tension and a confusion about it all.

With that in mind, I think film has become the dominant storytelling medium of our society, and I think the best candidates for new mythologies come from that art form. There's always been something grand and substantial about films, especially played in movie theaters, like temples they enshrine the images of heroes and heroines whose perfect images are displayed in sizes larger than human life. In film, time moves in reflection of the plot, a single guiding line about one action or story, it is not burdened with the incarnational aspects of life (i.e. eating, sleeping, paying bills, using the restroom, bathing, working, relaxing; granted, I believe some of the best films and film characters do show and do these, but I'll not get too deep into that), rather, their lives flow in reference to a specific purpose or task. Music accompanies their journeys, and situations turn out fantastically perfect. All of this, of course, has been harmed by the ubiquitous nature of digital media and screens. So, now, you can watch the quest, but it's on your tv or computer monitor, much less monumental than the experience of seeing it in the cinema. Yet, still, I think it's the closest thing we've got to what our ancestors have.

Thus, in the end, pipe in hand, I've enjoyed this book and I'd like to read more of Campbell's work, especially the larger collections/compendiums of myths (The Masks of God series).

Thanks for reading!

Departure: Answering the Divine Call

I very much enjoyed your post, and, likewise, agreed! (This may get monotonous, we'll have to argue at some point.)

On to section two: Departure. This section at once less interesting to me than the first and, in some respects, a little haunting. Campbell begins with the tale of the princess the golden ball and the frog, from Grimm's Fairy Tales, No. 1, "The Frog King." The stories action ensues from a seeming mishap, and immediately Campbell latches onto a fascinating critique and interpretation of accidents:

This is an example of one of the ways in which the adventure can begin. A blunder--apparently the merest chance--reveals an unsuspected world, and the individual is drawn into a relationship with forces that are not rightly understood. As Freud has shown, blunders are not the merest chance. They are the result of suppressed desires and conflicts. They are ripples on the surface of life, produced by unsuspected springs. And these may be very deep--as deep as the soul itself.

While this is basically the notion of the Freudian slip, it seems deeper and more meaningful when put in the context of a story, and since stories mirror life, I'm sure this has its basis in life. Campbell says, "The blunder may amount to the opening of a destiny." This is a concept that's mirrored in the arts. Often, artists speak of mistakes as actually being the doorway to creation. My ceramics professor used to refer to the Japanese term らく "Raku" which means "enjoyment; ease" and identifies special tea cups used certain tea ceremonies. Yet, the Raku ware is special because each piece is hand molded and then fired at a low temperature and then put through an oxygen reduction process that gives a black or charred look to the piece and leaves it quite porous. There are special glazes for these, and there's a sense that there's some chaos and randomness in the process which may lead to mistakes in the process, but they are "happy mistakes" ones that can be enjoyed in the final product. The oxygen reduction gives the glazes a shiny look, too, or at least at first. These are some from my class.



Anyway, I like the concept of mistakes and blunders as being evidence of much deeper roads, and of these connecting desires to destiny. Also, when you're in a story, this is the kind of thing that you cannot see, but as a viewer or in hindsight, becomes quite clear. The chance meeting between destined lovers or getting lost and stumbling upon a forgotten kingdom. But, mistakes and blunders are part of a larger set of elements, elements that break the regular course of life and act as the catalyst to the hero or protagonists awakening to an understanding of a higher realm/reality.

So, in the adventure, there is first the call to adventure. It can come quickly or over a long period, but it always comes, whether through mistake, mishap, tragedy or awakening, it comes. Campbell then talks about a disconcerting notion for all would-be-adventurers:

Often in actual life, and not infrequently in the myths and popular tales, we encounter the dull case of the call unanswered; for it is always possible to turn the ear to the other interests. Refusal of the summons converts the adventure into its negative. Walled in boredom, hard work, or "culture," the subject loses the power of significant affirmative action and becomes a victim to be saved. His flowering world becomes a wasteland of dry stones and his life feels meaningless--even though, like King Minos, he may through titanic effort succeed in building an empire of renown. Whatever house he builds, it will be a house of death: a labyrinth of cyclopean walls to hide from him his Minotaur. All he can do is create new problems for himself and await the gradual approach of his disintegration.

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!! That is a frightening and poignantly accurate paragraph. Depth and purpose in life come at a price, and refusing the call means only becoming obsolete. As he says, one "loses the power of significant affirmative action." This seems like a nightmare scenario to me, and, not too divulge too much, an active fear of mine. Granted, when transposing the elements of life into narrative, one may use the same proportional mythic framework to speak of something as big as liberation from an evil tyrant or as small as waking up on time. As you wrote, myths and symbols help us find our place in life, and help us navigate its perils. Thus, the call unanswered can mean giving up on one's lifetime chocolate factory goals, or simply not asking a girl out. I'm struck with the idea that human beings are full of multiple mythologies and stories occurring simultaneously. Clearly one can perceive all of one's various activities under the umbrella of a single narration, but one also shifts and changes roles throughout the day, and thus, taking part in a number of various plot-lines.

Campbell even softens his critique of the call unanswered by adding:

Not all who hesitate are lost. The psyche has many secrets in reserve. And these are not disclosed unless required. So it is that sometimes the predicament following an obstinate refusal of the call proves to be the occasion of a providential revelation of some unsuspected principle of release.

I feel like my interpretation of multiple plot-lines fits with this analysis. As we forsake or fail in certain courses of action, the psychological structures we've created to pursue them decay, rot and are overgrown by the undergrowth of the human unconsciousness (uh-oh, I'm starting to slip into the psychoanalysis camp, better keep an eye on that). It is like buildings in ghost towns broken and retaken by weeds, trees and grass. Then, we build something new. Birth. Life. Death. Rebirth.

Likewise, Campbell's next note made me even happier. I like to think I've done some of this, but I may only be skirting the edges:

Willed introversion, in fact, is one of the classic implements of creative genius and can be employed as a deliberate device. it drives the psychic energies into depth and activates the lost continent of unconscious infantile and archetypal images. The result, of course, may be a disintegration of consciousness more or less complete (neurosis, psychosis: the plight of spellbound Daphne); but on the other hand, if the personality is able to absorb and integrate the new forces, there will be experienced an almost superhuman degree of self-consciousness and masterful control.

Granted, I like to think of being the latter rather than the former, for obvious reasons. Psychosis is not my creative ideal. It seems vaguely anti-productive. Anyway, I found this an intriguing and eye-catching section. Campbell is now speaking of facing the journey inwards. It is the adventure inverted with the road leading into oneself, searching the depths of one's being to face the monsters inside and transcend to a higher level of awareness. It reminds me of a saying from the great science fiction novel Dune by Frank Herbert (a tale of epic and mythic proportion in and of itself). The Bene Gesserit rite:

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

This is an excellent sentiment for undergoing the passage within. For, within ourselves lies our greatest battles and struggles, our greatest threats and fears. We are our own worst enemy. And passing through it means passing through self, dying to self, as it were, to become the authentic and true self.

After this Campbell talks about supernatural aid. The old man or old women helps point the way for the hero, or the fairy or Jinn comes to the hero's aid. Hero crosses the first threshold, the trials to prove worthy of enlightenment. Then the passage through the belly of the whale or the journey through Hades, through death itself, to achieve one's goal. There's a lot here, but I feel as though much of it is fairly obvious and prima facia when looking at stories or even life. We get help from those older than us in all aspects of life. Apprenticeships, internships, mentoring, etc. These are more intentional and sought out than the examples Campbell's talking about, but it seems similar to me. We need help in finding our way.

Concerning the first threshold and its trials, I really like the story of Sticky-Hair and Prince Five-Weapons. Such courage! Also, I think I'm vaguely jealous that the man's name is "Prince Five-Weapons." I imagine you make a lot of rumors with that name. I guess he's also the Future-Buddha in a past incarnation, Campbell explains. So, he's got five weapons and he's super smart/wise/compassionate.

I'd like to end with a short piece of animation that reading this has reminded me of. It definitely incorporates all of these aspects: call to adventure (though, more of an inner calling), supernatural aid, trials and thresholds, initiation, transformation/enlightenment and so forth. Made by a small animation company Red Kite Animation, this 15 minute short film is called The Green Man of Knowledge. (I'm not sure how to embed it, so you'll have to follow the link.)