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When the Sky Calls: Reclaiming the Magical Child Within
- Scott Neumeister, PhD
- 30 minutes ago
- 6 min read
A lot of people think that it’s about remaining as a child…No, it’s becoming as a child again…building your adulthood self, absolutely…but then returning to this imagination, creativity—and rediscovering it.
Robert Maldonado, Jung on Purpose Podcast
We have reached not only the final week of 2025 but also the ending of the Joseph Campbell Foundation’s yearlong focus on the Power of Myth at the Movies. Each month, our thoughtful authors have offered powerful insights into how films across the spectrum of genres evoke all twelve of our chosen archetypes. As the editor of the MythBlast series, I have been enriched by the ways in which all our contributors have explored the ongoing ability of these archetypal figures, so essential to Campbell’s understanding of myth, to fascinate us. Moreover, they let us see ourselves in modern visual storytelling media. For the closing MythBlast of the year, and inspired by Devon Deimler’s MythBlast earlier this month on the Steven Spielberg-directed E.T., I am going to not only look to the skies but also within for the Magical Child.
In December of 1977, eleven days before Christmas, Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) debuted on the big screen. Released in the season traditionally tied to the appearance of an otherworldly “magical child,” this film is more than a sci-fi masterpiece about humanity’s first direct contact with extraterrestrial life; it profoundly explores wonder, transformation, and the rediscovery of childlike awe in a jaded world. At its heart, the film juxtaposes two unlikely characters—young Barry Guiler (Cary Guffey) and adult Roy Neary (Richard Dreyfuss)—both of whom embody the Magical Child archetype: a symbol of innocence, curiosity, and unshakable belief in the unknown.
A dual call: two journeys to wonder
While Barry’s youthful fascination with the mysterious lights and unseen forces reflects the pure, unfiltered wonder of childhood, Roy’s journey from disillusioned everyman to wide-eyed seeker reveals how the Magical Child can emerge even in those burdened by adulthood. Through their parallel narratives, Spielberg invites viewers to consider how the loss—and subsequent reclamation—of this archetype shapes our ability to perceive the extraordinary, suggesting that true connection with the cosmos requires not just technological advancement, but a willingness to embrace the imagination and vulnerability of a child.
Barry and Roy, though separated by age and circumstance, mirror each other in their rejection of the mundane and their surrender to the inexplicable. Barry, a literal child, is fascinated by his encounters with the otherworldly—his toys come to life, his face is lit with rapture as the UFOs descend, he trusts in the unknown, absolutely and unquestioningly. His journey is one of pure instinct, unconstrained by doubt or the boundaries of logic.
Roy, by contrast, begins as a man trapped in the routines of adulthood: a husband, a father, a lineman whose life is defined by responsibility and practicality. Yet, as the film progresses, his exposure to the same mysterious forces awakens a dormant, childlike curiosity within him. His obsession with the image of Devil’s Tower, his willingness to abandon his family and career, and his eventual regression to a state of wide-eyed wonder—culminating in his playful sculpting of the tower from a pile of mashed potatoes—reveal a man shedding the weight of adulthood to reclaim the magic he once knew.
Both characters are drawn to the unknown not by logic (which the adult world heavily leans into), but by a primordial longing, a call to something greater that transcends chronological age and is often dismissed as too vulnerable or irrational. Spielberg visually reinforces this parallel through framing and lighting, often bathing both in the same ethereal glow, as if to suggest that the Magical Child is not a phase of life, but a state of being available to anyone willing to listen. As Thomas Moore reminds us, “We care for the soul by acknowledging the place of eternal childhood, seeing its disadvantages to be virtuous and its inadequacies to be the conduits of soulful sensitivity” (Care of the Soul, 54). Roy and Barry’s journeys are not about disparaging adulthood, but about embracing the soulful sensitivity that arises when we dare to see the world—and ourselves—through the eyes of eternal childhood.
Growing down: reclaiming the magic you left behind
Roy Neary’s embrace of the Magical Child archetype in Close Encounters isn’t just a cinematic fantasy—it’s an invitation for all of us to reconnect with the wonder, curiosity, and openness we often leave behind in adulthood. To experience this transformation in our own lives, we can start by cultivating curiosity: actively seeking out new experiences, asking questions, and allowing ourselves to be captivated by the unknown. This might manifest as exploring a new hobby, revisiting a childhood passion, or simply taking a different route home. We can also prioritize play and creativity, carving out time for activities that spark joy without the pressure of productivity—painting, stargazing, or even daydreaming. Additionally, letting go of rigid expectations and embracing spontaneity can help us break free from the constraints of routine, just as Neary abandons his mundane life. Finally, we can listen to our intuition, those quiet nudges that often lead us toward meaningful experiences, even if they don’t immediately make logical sense. By doing so, we open ourselves to the magic of the world, just as Neary does. We can rediscover the childlike wonder that makes life feel extraordinary—what Campbell has called “the rapture of being alive” (The Power of Myth, 1).
Archetypes as living bridges: from screen to self
As we conclude our year-long exploration of archetypes in film, we’re reminded of Joseph Campbell’s deep reverence for these universal patterns—not as abstract concepts, but as living forces that shape our myths, our stories, and ultimately our lives. Campbell understood that archetypes are the shared language of the human experience, the echoes of our collective unconscious that resonate across cultures and centuries. Film, with its vivid imagery and emotional immediacy, serves as a powerful mirror for these timeless motifs, allowing us to witness the Hero’s journey, the Shadow’s struggle, and the Magical Child’s wonder unfold on screen in ways that feel both deeply personal and profoundly universal. Yet, the true magic lies not just in recognizing these patterns in the stories we watch, but in seeing how they reflect our own inner landscapes—how the Hero’s trials mirror our own challenges, how the Lover’s longing speaks to our deepest desires, and how the Trickster’s chaos disrupts our rigid certainties. Archetypes are the bridge between the stories “out there” and the stories within us, inviting us to engage with every tale—whether on screen or in life—as both observer and participant. As Campbell often reminds us, myth is not something to be studied from a distance, but a living dialogue, a call to see ourselves in the narratives that surround us and, in doing so, to discover the mythic dimensions of our own lives.
We can rediscover the childlike wonder that makes life feel extraordinary—what Campbell has called “the rapture of being alive”
Thank you for continuing to let MythBlasts help you explore the power of myth in your life, and we can’t wait to reveal our mythic theme for next year’s writings. Happy New Year!
MythBlast authored by:
Scott Neumeister, PhD is a literary scholar, author, TEDx speaker, mythic pathfinder and Editor of the MythBlast series from Tampa, Florida, where he earned his PhD in English from the University of South Florida in 2018. His specialization in multiethnic American literature and mythology comes after careers as an information technology systems engineer and a teacher of English and mythology at the middle school and college levels. Scott coauthored Let Love Lead: On a Course to Freedom with Gary L. Lemons and Susie Hoeller, and he has served as a facilitator for the Joseph Campbell Foundation’s Myth and Meaning book club at Literati.
This MythBlast was inspired by Myth & Meaning and the archetype of The Magical Child.
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Rebecca Armstrong is a mythologist, minister, and educator whose life has been guided by the transformative power of story. For twelve years, she served as the International Outreach Director of the Joseph Campbell Foundation, helping to create and nurture the worldwide Mythological RoundTable™ groups that carried Campbell’s work into communities around the globe. With an earned doctorate and two master’s degrees, Rebecca has spent over three decades teaching myth, religion, ethics, and film studies at major universities, and she currently leads a course called Movies & the American Myth at Indiana University. In her private practice as a Jungian Coach and Spiritual Guidance counselor at workingwithsoul.com, she helps others reconnect with the deeper stories moving through their lives. In this episode, Rebecca joins JCF’s John Bucher for a rich conversation about her life, her relationship with Joseph Campbell, and how myth continues to inform her work in the world today.
This Week's Highlights
“Old age is implicit in the generation of a child: the child’s old age is there waiting. Similarly, the older you get, the more you realize that you are still a kid, and your early experiences are the ones that are now just opening out. It is one system all the time.”
-- Joseph Campbell
