The Hero: An ancient archetype older than civilization itself. Does it reside within each of us?
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The demon that you can swallow gives you its power, and the greater life’s pain, the greater life’s reply.
― Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth
We all have a story. It defines us, put us in relation to everything.
As a child, my story was lost. I spent half my life pulled by the gravity of other’s stories into orbit-roles inside their chapters, ones filled with tragedy and failure, of pain and suffering, of dogma and tradition, of warped expectation and desire.
The deepest, purest part of me was profoundly wounded—my true story buried under the dirt of my accepted responsibility for the neglect and abuse. I became the villain. This meant guilt. This meant shame.
It became my story.
Villains are not worthy. They don’t deserve mercy. They don’t deserve happiness. They do not deserve love. Villains deserve punishment. Villains deserve suffering.
Intellectually, I know this, have known this for years. But freeing myself of this false story of self isn’t as simple as the cliche of cognitive intent. This tragic character is deeply woven into my sense of self. I’ve told myself that is who I am for so long, it literally IS me. I don’t know a reality, a story where I am not the bad guy.
It’s like having the knowledge to build a computer but no idea how it works.
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It’s like having the knowledge to build a computer but no idea how it works.
Of course this ridiculously distorted identity is contrary to my behavior. I treat others with kindness and empathy, I’m honest and noble in deed. Yet I do not treat myself the same. Deep down inside I am still the villain. I’m bad. A failure. A disappointment. Worthless. My penance is to suffer.
I’ve been the villain a long time and I’m worn thin. I can’t endure this puzzling coddled pain between my ears any longer. Some would describe this as hitting bottom. Some would describe this as a catalyst for change.
The villain has to die. Only his death will allow the real me to unfurl. But he can’t be intellectually vanquished, cut out and cast down into the flames of damnation. I am he. I must surrender. I must surrender my entirety to the ultimate unknown.
Joseph Campbell, father of the concept of known as The Hero’s Journey, would describe this realization as facing the edge of the “abyss”. Surrendering to it means the death of my faux-ego, this poisonous identity I accept as true. Yet I feel tremendous resistance to allowing myself to be swallowed by the void.
I feel paralyzed, unable to take that step. It would seem that no matter the self-oppression and limitation my false story inflicts, it is familiar and offers a curse of twisted comfort. I remain shackled. The irony is maddening.
◊♦◊
The last six years has been a Road of Trials, major life changes intended to live an authentic life and thrive. In a way it was a death itself. Each frightening choice shed a false part of my identity. It was all part of the “plan”. But I felt like I failed at each trial, that the losses were too great, that I let opportunities slip away carelessly.
I felt lost. Defeated. This only reinforced the validity of the incessant dark story echoing off the walls inside my skull.
And then last year broke the last of my twisted affection with the villain by ripping my heart wide. His designs were left naked. Answers I was blind to spilled out of the shredded remains.
I’m certain that if there is a god, he kills a kitten every time someone utters those words.
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In that final crushing blow, I realized there’s a duality to everything…failure can be success, success can be failure. I don’t mean that in some insultingly trite way like, “everything happens for a reason.” I’m certain that if there is a god, he kills a kitten every time someone utters those words.
I mean it like the Circle of Life. In nature, nothing is a waste. My string of “failures” was just stairs down into my underworld, the roots of my villain-story. I was on the right path all along.
The villain’s story had to be ripped out unintentionally, by storm winds, page by page.
Author Neil Strauss puts it this way:
There are plans and then there is nature.
Plans are very orderly. They are logical and perfect. Straight as an arrow. Flawless. As human beings, we like to make plans, and then follow them to reach a goal or a destination.
Nature, however, is not so orderly. It is chaotic and unpredictable. Sometimes it is calm; other times it is wild. Sometimes it’s safe; other times it’s dangerous.
Plans take place in our heads, but nature is the law of the world outside our thinking.
◊♦◊
It’s been a reluctant path, pain my unwelcome herald and guide. Unlikely characters and ironic consequences have given aid. Now the Ultimate Threshold stands before me. Beyond, the possibility for healing and transformation.
I’m terrified.
The Hero’s Journey isn’t physical feats, it is spiritual. Every challenge, loss, wound is a test of character, an invitation to a true and thriving life.
The choice is mine. Am I villain or hero?
The answer lies beyond my intellect, my intention. The void beckons.
How about you?
Photo credits: Wikimedia Commons, Wikimedia Commons
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Great minds think alike.