I've been devouring the texts of Joseph Campbell as of late. As such, my willful wanderings back into the depths of the celebration of the Hero have all of the Greek Gods oozing out of the collective Archetypal shadows.
Whether I am reading about political philandering, rising revolutions, or the loss of celebrity through the inevitable experience of death, I cannot help but mentally bookmark which mythology/folktale can be aptly applied. I believe, as a writer, my primary purpose is to decipher and communicate the collective symbolism. The monomyth is alive and well ladies and gentlemen (even within the confines of a seemingly uneventful middle class experience; which brings me to question, is there still a "middle class"?).
Each of us has our own mythology. But, they (the mythologies) aren't as unique as Americans suffer to believe. Certainly, we are a compendium of Archetypes, yet, these looming representations are similar, if not the same, trans-culturally.
My patchwork introduction is a coerced leeway into thoughts I wish to cut and paste into this blog for today. I sat down yesterday, as I do everyday, and reflected upon the flow of input values from the media over the past several days. As always, I begin with identifying my own internal position within mighty maelstrom. Slowly, my focus moves from the center and trickles outward as my consciousness becomes a plug in to the world community. I tend to speak in abstractions because I have not yet mastered the art of using details creatively (rather then being used by them). Ok, here we go...my stream of consciousness from yesterday:
The Athena within is gaming for some kind of stimulation other than the slow unfolding of daily existence. I am both welcomed by, and prevent myself from drowning in the womb-like subsistence of the professional class. Having children has greatly dampened, indeed has almost extinguished, my drive for risky adventures. However, it is deeply unfair to heap any blame upon my offspring. The infantile excretions of American humanity (in its droll mental meanderings, small talk, superficial chirpings of mommy groups, allergy attacks, and what is being made for dinner) bore me to tears. Relationships aren't cultivated for their potential re-sourcing, for their fathomable re-connections of one soul to another. Where I see the Divine in infinitely sagacious discussions about the worlds problems, and the mythologies that promote or inhibit their healing, others collect disembodied social networks like small trophies for the purpose of reinforcing egotistical masturbation.
America is the bastard love child of Echo and Narcissus. As such, the culture is more reflective of the myth of Hephaestus. Except, we do not produce anything of great substance. Our magical industriousness has given way to a fantasy based Never Land of paper pushing capitalism. Yes, you too can be wealthy by watching numbers increase or decrease on a world wide screen. Did any of you stop to ask who, exactly, has the authority to place that value on those pieces of paper, and why?
We've been wooed into fossil like stasis by the prostitutes of Aphrodite and the priests of Hermes. This is what our country has become through its refusal to grow out of being wholly representative of a 14 year old boy.
Hey, I'm as interested in the bewitching attributes of Aphrodite as anyone else. I love beauty. But, I am as magnetized by the allure of Zion National Park, as I am by the ornate McMansions and money as power drive of the wealthy and botoxed. A walk through a tree lined and grass quilted neighborhood park brings me as much pleasure as purchasing a new gadget (or eating cheesecake, for that matter).
Nature is sexy, people. Greedy, solipsistic homo sapiens who want to extenuate their denial that short cuts to success aren't successful, are NOT sexy. As we have witnessed through continuous economic avalanches, we can live only so long on a borrowed dime (or trillions of dollars) before the cycles of nature (which many monotheistic religious and secular socio-economic institutions try unsuccessfully to suppress) kick our collective ass. We have another opportunity to learn from our failings (other than how to deftly blame everyone else for our lack of individual responsibility). Well?
That, in a nutshell, is my take on the currently disembodied human condition. One of my offspring is up and ready to roll. But before I go: Which Hero are you?
