An initiation is a shock. Birth is a shock; rebirth is a shock. All that is transformative must be experienced as if for the first time. “On Being Human,” Mythos I, Episode 3 I have often wondered about the best way to celebrate and honor the legacy of Joseph Campbell as a great scholar and teacher of myth. What is the best way to keep his corpus alive for our contemporary world? The approach one may take can range from fanaticism to outright rejection, following the motto “I honor whom I attack.” Perhaps there is a razor’s edge of critical appropriation that would help us cut through the opposition of both sides. We often talk about honoring this legacy or that person, but what does “honoring” even mean nowadays? Does it mean a worshipful conservation of what has been accomplished in the past? Does it mean the restoration and preservation of a bygone past? The antiquarian approach To the conservative approach to Campbell, nothing more is to be desired. It is perfectly happy conserving and preserving Campbell’s legacy such as it is, maintaining it as much as possible in the same state in which he left it. This conservative approach, using Nietzsche’s classification, we may call the antiquarian approach to Campbell’s work as a recepticle of the world of myth and history. Opening up this world of epic historicity, what is at stake in Campbell’s work is our fundamental relationship to the whole of human history. As mediated through Campbell’s monumental work, such as Masks of God , the epic history of humankind spreads before our eyes. From its primeval origins shrouded in the veils of prehistory, reaching back to our evolutionary origins, Campbell’s boon is an initiation into the archetypal imagination of epic mytho-history. In the way we pick up Campbell’s work, we express our philosophy of history; it demonstrates the way in which we understand the value and use of history for life. Going back to Nietzsche’s famous essay, sometimes dubbed “On the Uses and Abuses of History for Life”, in the second part of his Untimely Meditations, he brings up the point of the existential relevance of the pursuit of historical knowledge: “We need history, certainly, but we need it for reasons different from those for which the idler in the garden of knowledge needs it, even though he may look nobly down on our rough and charmless needs and requirements” ( Untimely Meditations , 59). Nietzsche points to the existential needs and requirements which Campbell too came to demand from the living study of myth and history. The monumental approach After meeting the conservative or antiquarian approach to Campbell, a second option casts a more liberal line over the historic corpus, one which seeks to go beyond the necessary tasks of conservation and restoration. This second option attempts to bring the past back to life as if it were an ever-present reality. In a more liberal way, this second approach seeks, in Nietzsche’s words, “that the summit of such a long-ago moment shall be for me still living, bright and great—that is the fundamental idea of the faith in humanity which finds expression in the demand for a monumental history” (68). The monumental approach to Campbell’s legacy would also work to maintain this faith in humanity through the reanimation of Campbell’s voice in mythological studies, building on the conservation efforts carried out by antiquarianism. Revitalizing Campbell’s work for contemporary audiences, monumentalism will freely adapt Campbell’s voice to better suit modern cultural sensibilities, even if it means trimming the tricky political edges of his work. To make an author feel “relevant” to the times, the work must be rearticulated and remade to conform to the “new” timely forms of conventional wisdom. Both liberal and conservative approaches, for all their apparent differences, stand on one and the same ideological platform. In both cases an attempt is made to preserve a certain status quo, to constitute a mythic ism, in the understanding of Campbell’s work. Both liberal and conservative approaches fail to create any new vision of Mythological Studies. Both sides suffer from a certain infertility or barrenness of imagination, blind to the truly transcendent possibility which might sprout out of the decomposing corpus of Joseph Campbell. Where the antiquarian is doing her best to prevent decomposition with all the tools of the trade, the monumental approach tries to reanimate this corpse while being in denial that decomposition is taking place at all. Both sides demonstrate a form of stagnation, an incapacity to produce a new order of understanding of myth and history as a complete whole. This creative impotence is symptomatic of a certain ideological fixation which is shared by both sides. Promoting ultimate contentment with the status quo, the antiquarian and monumental approaches pose no threat to the “spirituality” that sustains the established order of things. The critical path of creative mythology Beyond these first two approaches, Nietzsche proposes a third option, which is bound to trigger the traps of both conservatism and liberalism alike. Failing to catch their usual fare, however, the ostensive opposition between liberal and conservative collapses into the ideological mire of their secret identity. Preserving the kernel of truth which belongs to each side, this third option invites the possibility of death and renewal combined. This “middle path,” working right through conventional oppositions, opens a transcendent possibility for Mythological Studies in the 21st century. Nietzsche called this third approach simply critical , “and this, too, in the service of life” (pg. 75). In this final dialectical approach, the devotion of the antiquarian and the zeal of the monumental are combined. This form of thinking exposes ideology to the sacrificial fires of truth in preparation for a new harvest of the mind. Campbell’s established corpus must be exposed to these flames of critical reflection, where he is offered as a sacrifice to the Gods. Upon this sacred altar of critical thinking, we must learn to surrender our precious belief systems; we must be willing to burn ideology to the ground. Let the flames of critical historical reflection perform their purifying function. As Nietzsche observes: For since we are the outcome of earlier generations, we are also the outcome of their aberrations, passions, and errors, and indeed of their crimes; it is not possible wholly to free oneself from this chain. If we condemn these aberrations and regard ourselves as free of them, this does not alter the fact that we originate in them. (76) We can never regard ourselves as being totally free from the crimes of the past. For we cannot ever break the mythic chain of our existential historicity. As the stage of an event of truth, the critical approach opens the way forward into the new terrains of creative mythology. A legacy that will not expose itself to criticism will not amount to much more than conventional piety. In the hands of the liberal and conservative lines, rather than living myth, we can recognize a belief system or ideology which is in full support of “business as usual” and “the powers that be”. In his own way, Campbell follows Nietzsche’s critical approach, for he believed in using mythology, above all, as an instrument of personal liberation. He promoted the break from infantile dependence on all belief systems or mythic ideologies—including his own—as well as social prestige, wealth and power, or any other form of ego fixation. As we can read in Hero’s Journey : One of the functions of the rituals again is to kill that infantile ego. Then you have a death-rebirth motif. So the individual falls into the ground of his own being and comes out an adult, a responsible adult, who’s undergone certain transformations. (156-157) Nowadays, intellectual and emotional independence is a rare and precious achievement. Swimming against the floods of state propaganda, culture wars and relentless social media, this independent state of mind may seem like a miracle. In everyday life, however, we can find that it is rooted in a spiritual struggle of liberation from the status quo—a struggle which can only be waged in the service of truth—the cutting edge of critical thinking. As a consummate expression of freedom, an independent mind points to the most radical form of individuation, a process that can only take place within the commonwealth of an intellectual or spiritual community across the centuries . In the critical crucible of myth and history, the substance of true mythology ( vera narratio ) is mortified and dismembered, cooked and boiled down to its own most essence, where it becomes one with Campbell’s ultimate dream of a “New Science of Myth.” This critical phoenix of Mythological Studies can today be reborn as the study of epic mytho-history out of the antiquarian ashes of Campbell’s monumental achievements. MythBlast authored by: Norland Téllez is an award-winning writer and animation director who currently teaches Animation and Character Design courses at Otis College of Art and Design, Cal State Fullerton. He is also conducting a Life Drawing Lab at USC School of Cinematic Arts. He earned his Ph.D. from Pacifica Graduate Institute in 2009 with a dissertation on the Popol-Wuh of the K’iche’ Maya, which he is currently translating and illustrating in its archetypal dimensions as the Wisdom of the Peoples. You can learn more at norlandtellez.com . This MythBlast was inspired by  The Power of Myth  Episode 6, and The Hero's Journey Latest Podcast In this episode, we are joined by Mollie Adler —a podcaster, writer, and existential thinker whose work deeply explores the complexities of human experience. As the creator of the podcast Back from the Borderline, Mollie challenges us to move beyond surface-level conversations and engage with our innermost selves. Influenced by mythology and the transformative work of Joseph Campbell, her approach is rooted in emotional alchemy—embracing the belief that from the ashes of suffering, something new can arise. Mollie often discusses mental health issues, encouraging her listeners to view mental health symptoms as messengers rather than flaws, guiding us toward alignment with the deepest yearnings of our souls. Drawing from her personal journey, she diverges from mainstream psychiatry’s tendency to "pathologize", offering instead a path of personal transformation and healing that acknowledges trauma, shame, and the challenges of modern life. Through her work, Mollie creates a space for vulnerable conversations, exploring the darkest parts of the human condition in pursuit of self-compassion and renewal. In this episode, she and JCF’s John Bucher discuss her life, her journey into mythology and soul-centered work, and how she has been influenced by Joseph Campbell. Mollie also opens up about her personal struggles with mental health and the topic of suicide. Listener discretion is advised, as sensitive themes are addressed. Find out more about Mollie here: http://www.backfromtheborderline.com/ Listen Here This Week's Highlights "One of the functions of the rituals again is to kill that infantile ego. Then you have a death-rebirth motif. So the individual falls into the ground of his own being and comes out an adult, a responsible adult, who’s undergone certain transformations." -- Joseph Campbell The Hero's Journey , 156-157 The Hidden Dimension (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

" The challenge is to flower as individuals, neither as biological archetypes nor as personalities imitative of the male.”  Joseph Campbell, Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine  (xiii) Myth, religion, and gender For over a decade beginning in the 1970s, Joseph Campbell waded into the murky waters of gender, sex, and myth through a series of lectures on historical goddesses. Dr. Safron Rossi has collected these lectures for us in a compilation entitled Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine . Up to that point, it wasn’t as if Campbell avoided the subject or was not inclusive in his work. Rather, during this time he decided to discuss this archetype separately with more care and intentionality.  Perhaps this undertaking was due to the powerful undercurrent of second wave feminism—built upon the philosophies of people like Simone de Beauvior, Betty Freidan, and Gloria Steinem. These writers inspired and documented a movement which would lead to the Equal Pay Act of 1963, crystallizing the economic rights of women in the United States. A year later, Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 would prohibit discrimination by employers based upon race, religion, sex, or national origin. And nearly a decade later when Campbell was to begin speaking on the goddess, bell hooks was releasing her first writings broadening the feminist movement to include social topics other than economics such as race, love, and sexuality.  While we cannot definitively know what inspired Campbell to take on this project, the evidence would suggest that he found himself (along with most people of that time) staring headlong into more than one existential crisis—who are we , who am I …better yet, what am I ?  And what better tool does our species have than myth to address such amorphous, sensitive, albeit confusing topics such as gender and sexuality?  What better tool does our species have than myth to address such amorphous, sensitive, albeit confusing topics such as gender and sexuality?  The two “traps” Throughout this essay, we are mindful of at least two “traps” for us to fall into and traps which Campbell had to navigate in his lectures. The first trap is that of the fundamental attribution error. To paraphrase Bertram Gawronski, a social psychologist, the fundamental attribution error is a bias humans are prone to express in which we underemphasize situational and environmental factors to explain someone's behavior, while over-index on things like their personality or disposition. In other words, when we study social history (in this case, historical mythology) we are prone to make meaning of events in the past using our interpretation of personality factors rather than the environmental factors which led to individual choices.  The next trap is adjacent to the first—this is the tendency to assume that ancient peoples’ social and cultural experience with things like gender, sex, and roles is similar to our own. True, homo sapiens  30,000 years ago were the same as homo sapiens 2,000 years ago, which are the same as homo sapiens  today. What was different in each of those periods, however, were the norms and expectations socialized among any given people at any given time.  In other words, while we cannot make the mistake of assuming that ancient people were somehow less intelligent, evolved, or capable as we are today, we must also respect that we cannot naturally intuit the social values they held about things like gender and sex, for example. Rather, this takes work, documentation, and evidence gathering as Campbell does in the book Goddesses.  War killed the goddess In the Goddesses we discover early on one of Campbell’s more forceful opinions on the subject of the goddess. He believes that the goddess finds herself a second class citizen of many of the world’s myths. Campbell asserts, “All I can tell you about mythology is what men have said and have experienced, and now women have to tell us from their point of view what the possibilities of the feminine future are. And it is a future—it’s as though the lift-off has taken place, it really has, there’s no doubt about it" (263).  He argues that the primary driver of the devaluation of the woman (and by extension the feminine and the goddess) is rooted in the evolution of war during the Bronze Age–more specifically the developments from the Indo-European warrior cultures to the Semitic-speaking patriarchal cultures. These two warrior cultures differed greatly in the way they approached war and winning. The Semitic-speaking peoples tended to favor annihilation, countering the Indo-European custom of assimilation. To put it another way, war killed the goddess.  When considering this development Campbell questions,  One is moved to ask why the [ancient Semetic speaking peoples]...turned their backs so resolutely on the goddess and her glorious world … A completely contrary understanding and attitude is presented in the mythological system of the other great complex of warrior tribes … Like the bedouins of the deserts, they too were patriarchal herding folk, and their leading gods were gods of war, finally subject however, to the larger powers of nature. (xxiv)  In other words Campbell argues that the Semitic-speaking tribes of the Bronze Age greatly challenged the norms of assimilation with annihilation. This threat of male violence, of patriarchy annihilating the divine feminine—first by separating or “othering” the feminine and then destroying her—is a legacy whose impressions remain to this day. In some respects, the very act of “othering” by separating and classifying is itself the defining behavior of patriarchy. At its core, these particular warrior tribes introduced an idea that man is superior to nature in so many ways. Suddenly the idea emerges that there is only one god, and that god is inherently gendered, and that gender is male. Perhaps the counter force to the warrior death-cults of the Bronze Age is the non-dualistic god of Rome, Janus. Janus stands at the gate–at all gates–with two heads or eyes pointing in opposing directions. One eye looks to the future while the other to the past. Janus is the liminal, the in-between, the doorway from this place to the next. Similarly, in one of the oldest cities on earth called Çatalhöyük, modern excavations have uncovered at the gates of temples and homes alike two felines which gaze at all who enter. One must enter the “in-between” space, under the watch of both this and that. Campbell suggests in his lectures that one of these is a lion and the other a lioness, as if sex, the dualism of male and female, is the gateway to the divine.  The liberation of the goddess (or how the goddess liberates us all) The error of patriarchy, then, is that of a logical fallacy. Patriarchy mistakes the symbol of gender for the reference. It is akin to religious fundamentalism in that it only manages to identify the most basic interpretation available. As Campbell quips in Goddesses , “My definition of mythology  is ‘other people’s religion’” (pg. 14). Unlike the Roman god Janus looking forward and behind or the two felines discovered around Çatalhöyük, the modern world appears increasingly challenged at holding non-dualistic perspectives. Perhaps we have forgotten how to see the world before it was carved up and fought over. Perhaps we have grown accustomed to seeing gender as a fact and less as itself a myth, a story which helps us cope with our psychology. After reflecting on these lectures by Campbell, we believe it’s possible that we as a culture have mistaken the symbol for the reference and forgotten that the goddess is an archetype available to us all—for our wellbeing, for our liberation, and for our hope. Because, like Ranier Maria Rilke so famously captured in his famous poem “Widening Circles” (as translated by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows):   I live my life in widening circles that reach out across the world. I may not complete this last one but I give myself to it. I circle around God, around the primordial tower. I’ve been circling for thousands of years and I still don’t know: am I a falcon, a storm, or a great song?  If the hero has a thousand faces, would it not be true that some of them are feminine, some masculine, and others something entirely different? Our myth is only as great as our courage and our imagination, and as Campbell reminds us, “The challenge is to flower as individuals, neither as biological archetypes nor as personalities” ( Goddesses , pg. xiii). Perhaps the goddess, in the underworld of oppression all these years, has returned with a boon which she gives freely to us, if we only have the courage to listen.   MythBlast authored by: Kami Hope is a designer, entrepreneur, creative, and myth enthusiast. Growing up in a part of the US which taught religious fundamentalism, Kami has enjoyed exploring art, science, and myth in adulthood in order to navigate the realities of life and better enjoy the world around her. She lives with her partner Matt in Nashville Tennessee along with their two young children—though they are currently relocating to London, England. There she hopes to dive deeper into design and art by taking advantage of iconic museums, culture, and history. Matt Malcom is a writer, public philosopher, and investor currently living in Nashville Tennessee. He studied philosophy at the United States Military Academy at West Point and was an Army Officer before joining the NGO world. During the pandemic, Matt expanded his work in public philosophy by launching a multi year project called The Pocket Philosopher. Now a global community spanning 5 countries, the mission remains focused on increasing public access to philosophical ideas. Today, he works in investment management focusing on ESG integration and is relocating to London at the end of 2024 to further this pursuit. He lives with his partner, Kami and their two young children. Kami and Matt enjoy long discussions about life, love, politics, and philosophy. This MythBlast was inspired by  The Power of Myth  Episode 5, and Goddesses Latest Podcast This bonus episode contains a short lecture that Campbell gave at Westerbee Ranch in Sonoma in 1987 on the "Symbology of the Tarot". It is a "slide" lecture meaning that Campbell was speaking to a curated set of slides, which he often did. Even though we cannot see the slides, his discussion and interpretation of the Tarot deck is worth a listen. This lecture was recorded in the same year as Campbell's death. One can hear him clearing his throat often. He was being treated for esophageal cancer. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "All I can tell you about mythology is what men have said and have experienced, and now women have to tell us from their point of view what the possibilities of the feminine future are. And it is a future—it’s as though the lift-off has taken place, it really has, there’s no doubt about it." -- Joseph Campbell Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine , 263 The Goddess Embodied (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

Gods within Joseph Campbell had a vision of an independent “science of myth,” a discipline of depth mythologizing which could stand on its own academic legs. Rather than being relegated to literary, anthropological, and archeological disciplines, Campbell wanted to ground myth on its own mythic substance while privileging a depth-psychological approach. Especially leaning on Carl Jung, Campbell comes again and again to a fundamental insight about the universality of myth— the archetypal figures of myth and legend correspond to psychological factors that are at work in the depths of the collective unconscious mind : “And this is one way of saying that in all of us, in our human activities, deities are operating” ( Romance of the Grail 152). Whenever a human action shines with the power of the archetypal, it has been transfigured by the power of myth. Archetypal images mediate both outer and inner realities. They constitute a psycho-physical medium of consciousness, indispensable to the cognitive function of the symbolic and its capacity to disclose the reality of the world.  Logos vs. mythos Images are not outside of language, not even outside verbal communication. For there is a direct relation between images and their meaning; they belong together as integrated wholes in the symbolic order. When we hear a foreign language, for example, we may have the jarring experience of hearing sounds without meaningful images attached to them. Without the resonance of images in our soul, we could not hear the song of meaning in the vibrations of human thought. As Martin Heidegger put it, “Language itself is poetry in the essential sense,” ( Poetry, Language, Thought 72) that is, in the sense that language can reveal the essence of things. Hence, he explains: “Language is not poetry because it is primal poesy; rather, poesy takes place in language because language preserves the original nature of poetry” (72). Rather than external opposites, mythological images are internal to words, as mythos  to logos  and logos  to mythos , in the full concept of mythology . We know that “non-verbal” images have the power to speak louder than words. As structures of signification, archetypal images are core channels of meaning and imagination; they constitute the world wide web of our symbolic life as a species.  Archetypal images retrace the order of the collective unconscious; they express the cultural forms of a collective consciousness which casts its shadow on the reality of the social field where it generally becomes unconscious. The collective consciousness and the collective unconscious are one and the same. Mythic images both hide and reveal the subterranean movement of the universal in the order of conscious thought, a movement that unleashes the power of the creative imagination. Combining the literal with the metaphorical into a single force, it is in the nature of the mythic to become historic.  Mythic images both hide and reveal the subterranean movement of the universal in the order of conscious thought, a movement that unleashes the power of the creative imagination.  The crucible of mytho-history Mythic images mediate between the literal and metaphoric, the manifest and latent, the ghostly and the real, in the virtual medium of psychic in existence. For the mythic only “exists” inside the historic. Mythic images are thus historic self-elucidations of the human spirit, caught between the metaphoricity of language and the literalism of fact.  The mythic and the literal are thus not external factors opposed to each other in fixed hierarchy. The metaphorical is not better than the literal and vice versa; one should not be on top of the other, as good is supposed to rule over evil, right over wrong, better over worse. Adapting the words of Jacques Derrida: “It is not, therefore, a matter of inverting the literal meaning and the figurative meaning but of determining the ‘literal’ meaning of [the mythic image] as metaphoricity itself” ( Of Grammatology 15). The mythic image expresses this metaphoricity of the literal itself, which opens up new horizons of meaning and archetypal vision. Dehumanizing mythology The human soul as human language, the archetypal Logos, which includes the mathematical and cognitive dimensions, has a demonstrably inhuman reach into the secrets of Nature. This very inhumanity at the same time allows us to peer into the unfathomable workings of nature as revealed by quantum physics, for example.  To speak of the archetypal, therefore, is to lay bare our naked inhumanity. For archetypes come to embody the best and the worst of what humans can do to one another, other creatures, and the environment. In the same vein, James Hillman too was compelled to speak of the “dehumanizing” effect of archetypal experience in general. For better or worse, the archetypal power of the mythic image comes to life in the deeds and misdeeds of human history.  The transparency of the transcendent Campbell had a beautiful way of expressing this opening of the mythic dimension. Rather than the opacity of the black and white, he spoke of achieving a certain transparency to the transcendent . To this purpose, he bid us look to artists for “These people can look past the broken symbols of the present and begin to forge new working images, images that are transparent to transcendence” ( Pathways to Bliss 20). In their disclosure of archetypal truth, myths are guides and guide posts to help us light our way. The power of their created works is to reawaken our capacity for mythic vision out of the primeval void of the collective unconscious. Artists are thus specialists in the deployment of the symbolic dimension of myth in the light of what is true; we are molders and shapers of the transparency of language to the shattering experience of archetypal truth.  “Thus in the work it is truth, not only something true, that is at work” (Heidegger 54). It is the archetype of the Logos  or the “Holy Ghost” or Spirit of Truth that is also at work in mythological creation. The event of truth in the work of art goes beyond the aesthetic experience of myth.  The aesthetic experience is itself made transparent to the operation of the transcendent function of truth, or logos, through which we as human beings evolve. Mythos and logos are not binary opposites or mortal enemies. In their togetherness alone mythos and logos complete the archetypal pattern of true mythology in the crucible of myth and history. Rather than aestheticizing myth in an imaginary universe divorced from truth, true mythology ( vera narratio ) emanates from “Its Root Ancient Truth,” as the Maya Popol Wuh  has it in its opening pages of creation. The power of myth, therefore, pushes toward the creation of new worlds of truth in time. Rather than a fixed essence, existential truth grows and develops in time. So what Heidegger writes about art is in every sense applicable to the power of true myth defined as: “the creative preserving of truth in the work. Art then is the becoming and happening of truth ” ( Poetry, Language, Thought 69). The transcendence of this event of truth is the real power that sets us free. Rather than correctness or adequation to a thing, the concept of truth in the existential sense becomes a concept of freedom. Truth as freedom in mythic creation opens the creative space in which we learn to become true  ourselves. In touch with the event of truth in myth, we experience the transcendence of creative being itself as the spirit of our authentic selves. MythBlast authored by: Norland Téllez is an award-winning writer and animation director who currently teaches Animation and Character Design courses at Otis College of Art and Design, Cal State Fullerton. He is also conducting a Life Drawing Lab at USC School of Cinematic Arts. He earned his Ph.D. from Pacifica Graduate Institute in 2009 with a dissertation on the Popol-Wuh of the K’iche’ Maya, which he is currently translating and illustrating in its archetypal dimensions as the Wisdom of the Peoples. You can learn more at norlandtellez.com . This MythBlast was inspired by  The Power of Myth  Episode 3, and Romance of the Grail Latest Podcast In this bonus episode, Campbell answers questions following his 1971 lecture, "Primitive Rites & Traditions", at Esalen Institute. He first speaks about the differences between male and female rites in various times and places and then gives an overview of his interpretation of the meaning of the "Virgin Birth". Listen Here This Week's Highlights “The logics of image thinking and of verbal thinking are two very different logics. I’m more and more convinced that there is, as it were, a series of archetypes which are psychologically grounded, which just have to operate, but in whatever field is available to them. In the myths, they are represented pictorially. There’s a big distinction to be made between the impact of the image, and the intellectual and social interpretation and application of the image.” -- Joseph Campbell Myth and Meaning , 27 The Dynamic of Life (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

While thousands of books with millions of words have detailed the alluring topic of the Goddess, I personally am far more interested in the embodied and emotional aspects of Her “beingness” versus reading primarily intellectual pursuits. The leading question for me is, “How can the individualities, powers, and wisdom meanings of the various Goddesses actually live within us in a deeply visceral way?” Not in the sense of some kind of channeling, but as a faculty of self within us. How can we incorporate the Goddess in body, mind, and soul so that Her expression is walking and living within us, instead of solely existing as a concept of the mind? It appears to me in our present time–certainly in modern Westernized cultures–that while we may worship the body as per the Olympic Games or in other sports, or in sex (even through pornography), that we’re not really “in” our bodies at all. Or certainly not in a deeply integrated way. So where are we if we’re not in our bodies? It seems that we mostly float in the demands and addictions of the digital world while being tethered to screen culture. Metaphorically speaking, most of us through work demands or personal choices have replaced the heartwarming hearth of Hestia with the coolly attenuated and impersonal Wi-Fi signal. These online cultures and worlds promise, and do deliver much (in their own ways), but leave many of us feeling disconnected from the Goddess and Her realms, and somehow disassociated from the deeper impulses of life too. Living within the electronic airwaves The Goddess is (amongst other things) a representation of authentic embodiment, and for us humans, this is suggestive of our capacity to represent a quality or idea so thoroughly that it becomes internalized in our souls too. Yet in our 24/7 digital world it can be extremely challenging to fully value such a physical and spiritual incarnation. When online we’re mostly exposed to self-improvement courses promoting a Goddess mindset (pandering to the narcissistic self) or Her likeness gets enlisted to sell more makeup, skincare, haircare, and fragrances. By releasing the Goddess from Her entombment within the desolate realms of intellectualized or superficial abstractions, She becomes actualized in our deeper selves, instead of only floating around the human mind or acting as a lip gloss brand ambassador. Multiple research studies point to an epidemic of loneliness that’s currently sweeping across the world. Alongside experiencing this loneliness epidemic, many adolescent girls and women feel trapped in commercialized online spaces that are constantly selling them idealized, filtered, “in vogue” images of the feminine. These spaces exert pressure to adopt a persona, disposition, and guise that places heavy emphasis on outward appearances, yet all the while a more authentic and deeper self lies dormant, desperate to emerge and bloom in genuine and meaningful connection. The Goddess Universe is alive Joseph Campbell writes in Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine , “In the older view the Goddess Universe was alive, Herself organically the Earth, the horizon, and the heavens. Now She is dead, and the universe is not an organism, but a building, with gods at rest in it in luxury: not as personifications of the energies in their manners of operation, but as luxury tenants, requiring service” (xxiii). The latter sentence encapsulates the modern view that the Goddess Universe is dead and that nature has suffered disenchantment. But I’m asserting that the Goddess Universe is fully alive and is merely awaiting our conscious recognition. Screen thin Goddess content Social media is full of content selling Goddess vibes, “glow up” guides, affirmations, and so on. But this content cannot suffice for the Goddess actually being incorporated within us. The teenage girls and women that I mention above usually don’t fully appreciate, let alone embody, a genuine Goddess archetype. She hovers as a purely mental projection or lingers as a seductive, fantasy image. For example, clickbait headlines read, “Want to look divine? How to dress like a Goddess!” rather than tangibly detailing how to embody Her ethos and principles. But when a true transmission of the grace of the Goddess occurs in us, She not only ennobles our personal selves, She also inspires and encourages us to higher levels of service, which is to assist the planet and others around us for their flourishing too. In this way She becomes an empowering presence for all. Awakening an archetype through physical incorporation While in this MythBlast I’m arguing for the soul interiorization of the divinities, unfortunately mostly in the Western media landscape these deities are commercially and neatly packaged as attractive but dimensionless commodities to meet shallow spiritual trends. We could say Marilyn Monroe, or rather her manicured persona, was deliberately “Godessified” by the mass media for commercial consumption ... an artifact Goddess! And while many people have an intimate knowledge of the lives of screen celebrities like Monroe, fewer have familiarized themselves with the characteristics and deeds of some of the thousands of divine Goddesses available to them from mythological antiquity. And while we can study the female deities, their myths and archetypal energies, or create altars for the purpose of worshiping specific Goddesses, sadly, the study of Her qualities and “ways of being” often remains no more than a trivial mental activity. I’m proposing here that we cultivate a deeper resonance when incorporating the divine feminine into our bodies, hearts, and minds. For it’s only when we encapsulate the Goddess in our thoughts, feelings, actions, choices, and behavioral patterns that we may become an expression and extension of Her mission. Only then do we become a temple in which She may dwell. When Her life force truly pulses through us, we’re not just mimicking Her persona, we’re actually bearing Her identity affirmation to the world. I’m proposing here that we cultivate a deeper resonance when incorporating the divine feminine into our bodies, hearts, and minds. So why does any of this matter? And why would we even want to bear an internalized expression of the Goddess? Well, from a skin deep perspective, we might–by Gen Z slang standards–“slay” or “pop off, queen” on social media, but it’s not just a matter of Goddess imitation through adopting a gimmicky persona or beauty and dress code. From a more rounded perspective, by having the presence of the Goddess within us, it allows Her identity to be felt and experienced in the world. Our lives become invigorated when each of us exudes the principles of the deities in our own unique ways. We could also consider what Goethe implied with these words from Faust, “The eternal feminine draws us on.” Goethe here is not referring to any particular Goddess, nor even to Gaia Herself. Rather, he is referring to the feminine spirit. What’s more this spirit of ceaseless, self-generating energy, creativity, love, nurturance, power, and grace exists within us all. And as Campbell ardently states in Goddesses, “People often think of the Goddess as a fertility deity only. Not at all–She’s the muse. ... She’s the inspirer of the spirit” (36). MythBlast authored by: Kristina Dryža  is an ex-futurist, author, TEDx speaker, archetypal consultant, one of the Joseph Campbell Foundation’s Editorial Advisory Group, and a steward for The Fifth Direction. Based between Australia and Lithuania, her work focuses less on the future and more on the unknown. Presence. Not prediction. What’s sacred? Not only what’s next. Kristina is passionate about helping people to perceive mythically and sense archetypally to better understand our shared humanity, yet honor the diverse ways we all live and make meaning. To learn more about Kristina, you can view her TEDx talk: Archetypes and Mythology. Why They Matter Even More So Today  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2o4PYNroZBY&t=525s This MythBlast was inspired by  The Power of Myth  Episode 5, and Goddesses Latest Podcast In this episode, we are joined by Mollie Adler —a podcaster, writer, and existential thinker whose work deeply explores the complexities of human experience. As the creator of the podcast Back from the Borderline, Mollie challenges us to move beyond surface-level conversations and engage with our innermost selves. Influenced by mythology and the transformative work of Joseph Campbell, her approach is rooted in emotional alchemy—embracing the belief that from the ashes of suffering, something new can arise. Mollie often discusses mental health issues, encouraging her listeners to view mental health symptoms as messengers rather than flaws, guiding us toward alignment with the deepest yearnings of our souls. Drawing from her personal journey, she diverges from mainstream psychiatry’s tendency to "pathologize", offering instead a path of personal transformation and healing that acknowledges trauma, shame, and the challenges of modern life. Through her work, Mollie creates a space for vulnerable conversations, exploring the darkest parts of the human condition in pursuit of self-compassion and renewal. In this episode, she and JCF’s John Bucher discuss her life, her journey into mythology and soul-centered work, and how she has been influenced by Joseph Campbell. Mollie also opens up about her personal struggles with mental health and the topic of suicide. Listener discretion is advised, as sensitive themes are addressed. Find out more about Mollie here: http://www.backfromtheborderline.com/ Listen Here This Week's Highlights "People often think of the Goddess as a fertility deity only. Not at all––she's the muse. She's the inspirer of poetry. She's the inspirer of the spirit. So she has three function: one, to give us life; two, to be the one who receives us in death; and three, to inspire our spiritual, poetic realization." -- Joseph Campbell Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine , 36 Emerging Mythology (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

“ Celestis, Divinitus, Insania, Vero .” Maybe, like me, you’ve also recently devoured the mythological black comedy TV series KAOS  on Netflix where the deities of the Greek pantheon are revealed to be the ones who originally put the “funk” into the term “dysfunctional family.” And, like me, maybe you too have thoroughly enjoyed the Greek myths being reimagined, with Hera shown to be as calculating and ruthless as Zeus, Eurydice seemingly content in the underworld and not particularly desiring a rescue by Orpheus, and Persephone adoringly doting on Hades and willingly being married to him.  This month the MythBlasts have focused on unpacking the term bliss , and I want to do this via the Dionysus character in KAOS  (played by Nabhaan Rizwan). In doing so, I’m mindful of the following Joseph Campbell quotation. He wrote in The Hero’s Journey : “If your bliss is just your fun and your excitement, you’re on the wrong track. I mean, you need instruction. Know where your bliss is. And that involves coming down to a deep place in yourself” (253). These words and this sentiment will become apparent in the course of my commentary.  ​ Spoilers ahead We find Dionysus in Episode 1 bored with being the god of pleasure, madness, and wild frenzy. Tired of being perceived as a lightweight and a disappointment, he wants a promotion. At the Fate of Falafel food truck, Dionysus innocently asks the vendor if he likes his job because he says he’s bored of his.   Vendor: What do you do?  Dionysus: I work for my dad. But he doesn’t take me seriously. I could do more with the humans.  Vendor: Huh?  Dionysus: The ... people. I’m good with them. I like them. I just want to get more involved. I want more responsibility.  Vendor: You mean like moving to HR or something?  Dionysus: HR, exactly. Yes.  Vendor: Well, tell him how you feel.   Dionysus: Yeah, it doesn’t really work like that with him. He doesn’t really do emotions. So Dionysus heads up to Mount Olympus and asks his father, Zeus (Jeff Goldblum) for a promotion, “ Just make me the god of love, or ... or, uh, war. Wisdom. I don’t know. Something serious. Something proper with influence. ” But he’s sharply rebuked and finds himself back at the falafel cart. Complaining about Zeus’ attitude towards him, Dionysus receives these words of wisdom from the vendor: “Find a purpose for yourself, not your father.” Soon after at a concert by Orpheus (Killian Scott), Dionysus is utterly moved by the performance of his song “Eurydice,” the musician’s passionate offering to his muse that professes his absolute undying love for her. He then appears bereft and heartbroken at Eurydice’s funeral when we then hear a voiceover from Prometheus (Stephen Dillane), “ Dionysus has found his purpose. Helping Orpheus. ” So what may we take from this? Well, “true” bliss is never solely self-seeking. Dionysus discovering a purpose–wanting to help Orpheus be the first mortal to bring someone out of the underworld because he feels how Orpheus’ love for Eurydice is greater than death–is him following his bliss. Though Dionysus eventually needs to explain his decision to his furious father. “ I gave your watch to the Fates so that a mortal could get his wife back from the dead. … And he failed the quiz, but he loved his wife. I’ve never seen anything like it. … the more I saw of him, of his love, the more I just ... I wanted him to be able to get her back.” Bliss is a state of a co-existence Genuine bliss always involves an element of service because our potential can only become fully actualized when it’s in service to something greater than ourselves. But bliss isn’t just about existing in selfless service. It’s also present when the psyche has arrived at a state of integration, harmony, and wholeness. Campbell’s invitation of “coming down to a deep place in yourself” won’t–on its own–automatically lead you to bliss, because   service to others, or to a noble ideal or even self-sacrifice, are essential elements of bliss too. Furthermore, bliss can’t just self-generate or exist on its own. It mostly often emerges through being in enriching relationships with other people, or with the Divine, or with animals. Bliss can also be felt when we’re in a sacred relationship with our own creativity, or when we’re steeped in prayer, or immersed in nature. And yes, human relationships often include a lot of messiness, despair, and sorrow, but the potential for bliss exists even there ... and indeed everywhere.  Service to others, or to a noble ideal or even self-sacrifice, are essential elements of bliss   Ethical hedonism  Seeking bliss isn’t the craving for it as a peak state. It’s also not about fixating on bliss as an end goal while dismissing the process and ignoring who you’re becoming (character development) along the way. Also, bliss is not a pass for selfish, reckless, hedonistic behavior with absolutely no regard of the consequences for oneself or for others. But it doesn’t need to be boring or moralistic. Following your bliss in a more rounded sense can be a highly exalted, explorative process. A euphoric inner quest can be as rapturous as any experience in the outer world. Either way, inner or outer bliss in this richer context is not simply given to us on a silver platter (as much as we sometimes wish it were!).  Pathways to bliss We each have our own path to bliss. The most important thing to remember though is that we are all on a path. And this path is not just a journey; it’s a process of becoming. In this, it isn’t the mere exhilaration of simply feeling blissful (i.e. the naïveté of a “bliss bunny”). The vibrant resonance of bliss cries out for multi-dimensional depths, profound embodiment, and relational capacities. It’s also a state of being that requires commitment, nurture, and work, but it’s not about the hustle culture with its endless “rise and grind” attitude. Yes, an ongoing focused attentiveness is required for cultivating this state. Yet on some occasions, bliss is miraculously and graciously bestowed on us as if from the realm of the gods or from one’s Higher Self or Daimon.   Following your calling In an interview on netflix.com  describing the character of Dionysus, Rizwan states, “He’s kind of not got a life. He’s just out here partying and everyone else has gone off and got proper jobs. The god version of proper jobs, which is part of Dionysus’ dilemma. He wants something real to do in the world. He feels something deeper.” As I alluded to earlier, our genius gets expressed when it’s in service (or even sacrifice) to others, so when Dionysus turns his back on partying to help someone else, his genius– his Daimon–is awakened, and therefore his capacity for bliss awakens too. We could also note that in this respect the word sacrifice  derives etymologically from a Latin term meaning “make sacred.” And as Moyers succinctly states in Episode 4  of Joseph Campbell and The Power of Myth with Bill Moyers , “From death comes life; from sacrifice, bliss.” Bliss co-exists with sacrifice, not outside of it.  All the best things are human   In the final KAOS  episode, Zeus berates his son with this tongue lashing: “ ... human love, that needy, cloying, unsophisticated stuff that they experience, it’s not somethin’ to be admired. … It’s ... It’s weakness. … You’re a god. We’re gods. We don’t bleed. We don’t die. And, uh, we don’t love anything lesser than ourselves. ” The gods who do not love anything lesser than themselves can never progress because they can never self-actualize into a higher level of their being or potential. In all of this, we should remember that human beings aren’t one-dimensional. We contain multitudes: love and indifference, trust and betrayal, light and shadow, order and chaos, death, rebirth, and renewal. And precisely through experiencing and feeling these multitudes, we evolve. Returning now to Zeus’ words above, human love is not a weakness. Not in the slightest. And as Persephone (Rakie Ayola) comfortingly says to Dionysus after the tirade from the king of the gods, “ Maybe the better part of you is human. ” Being human means being willing to experience all the blissful perfections, imperfections, contradictions, and sacrifices that a mortal life and journey holds. Let us be thankful to the gods for this. “ Vero! ” MythBlast authored by: Kristina Dryža  is an ex-futurist, author, TEDx speaker, archetypal consultant, one of the Joseph Campbell Foundation’s Editorial Advisory Group, and a steward for The Fifth Direction. Based between Australia and Lithuania, her work focuses less on the future and more on the unknown. Presence. Not prediction. What’s sacred? Not only what’s next. Kristina is passionate about helping people to perceive mythically and sense archetypally to better understand our shared humanity, yet honor the diverse ways we all live and make meaning. To learn more about Kristina, you can view her TEDx talk: Archetypes and Mythology. Why They Matter Even More So Today   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2o4PYNroZBY&t=525s This MythBlast was inspired by  The Power of Myth  Episode 4, and Myth and Meaning Latest Podcast In this episode, we’re joined by the legendary John Densmore , the rhythmic force behind one of the most iconic bands in rock history, The Doors. From his early days as a young musician in Southern California, John has always been captivated by the primal call of the drum—a heartbeat that transcends time and culture. In this conversation we discuss his relationship with Joseph Campbell, and explore his deep connections to music, spirituality, and the creative process that has fueled his remarkable career. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "So, I have a little word: “Follow your bliss.” The bliss is the message of God to yourself. That’s where your life is." -- Joseph Campbell Myth and Meaning , 161 Sacred Place (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

The Mont-Saint-Michel Abbey appears as one with the small rocky island on the coast of Normandy, France. With its spires pointing to the heavens, the buildings look as though they are floating on the waters. The islet is inaccessible when the tide closes in, the ocean fortifying the abbey from attack or isolating it for solitude. The journey to the island feels mythic as one crosses water, shuttles ferrying the bustling tourists to the mysterious isle, the winds whipping one’s hair with a story all its own. Our intrepid guide led us through the quaint medieval village lined with storefronts and delicious delights, but our journey was upwards, climbing over 200 steps towards the spire at the top of the abbey with its golden statue of the archangel Michael, aspiring to reach the heavens he points to. Passing through the light-filled sanctuary, then the scriptorium where wise words were memorialized in script, and finally through the public meeting rooms where visitors were welcomed, I was filled with awe by the beauty of the gothic structures. The buildings were layered in order of importance, our guide explained, the sanctuary is closest to God, the business of society the furthest. The organization of the buildings seemed to tell a story as well. Our Lady underneath the earth On our descent from the abbey, our guide pointed to a small door and stated: “And through this door is Notre-Dame-Sous-Terre–Our Lady Underneath.” I froze on the steps. Translated as Our Lady underneath the earth, our guide explained that the oratory, or small chapel, remained buried and hidden for years. Built during the eighth century upon what was thought to be an ancient burial site, what remains of the chapel is one of the oldest structures on the island. Throughout the centuries, structures were built on top of Notre-Dame-Sous-Terre. Forgotten to time, the chapel was excavated in the 19th century. So, at the heart of this 13th-century breathtaking gothic structure is a chapel dedicated to Our Lady underneath the earth–an underworld goddess. One must know death to understand life Underworld goddess figures are often feared in mythology. Homer’s Odyssey refers to the Greek underworld goddess, Persephone, as dread Persephone, showing such trepidation. Yet, in the Sumerian myth of the “ Descent of Inanna, ” the goddess Inanna descends through her own agency, seeking the wisdom found in the underworld. At each of the seven gates of the underworld, Inanna relinquishes her worldly power as goddess of heaven and earth and bows low in the inner sanctum to the goddess of the underworld, Erishkigal, seeking the depths found therein. In The Hero with a Thousand Faces , Campbell finds that in the underworld journey: “The hero, whether god or goddess, man or woman, the figure in a myth or the dreamer of a dream, discovers and assimilates his opposite (his own unsuspected self) either by swallowing it or by being swallowed. One by one the resistances are broken. He must put aside his pride, his virtue, beauty, and life, and bow or submit to the absolutely intolerable. Then he finds that he and his opposite are not of differing species but one flesh.” (89) The descent to the underworld deepens the experiences of the hero and is a transformative moment in the journey. The underworld then appears to be reflective of the psychological experience. Sigmund Freud begins The Interpretation of Dreams with a quote from Virgil’s Aeneid, “Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo, ” referencing the idea that if the heavens will not offer help, one will turn to the underworld. The use of this quote seems to illuminate how the underworld is a source of psychological images for Freud. Mythologist Christine Downing highlights how Freud often refers to the underworld as a “privileged metaphor for the unconscious” ( Gleanings , 129). Archetypal psychologist James Hillman echoes Freud's connection between dream imagery and the underworld. Hillman’s book The Dream and the Underworld relates the psychology of dreams to the mythology of the underworld, demonstrating the mythology’s relevance to the field of psychology. In Myth of Analysis , Hillman states that “the Platonic upward movement toward aestheticism is tempered by the beauty of Persephone” (pg. 102). In other words, the driving forces of our daily lives are informed by the knowledge of the depths of human existence. Hillman refers to these depths as “underworld beauty.” These scholars highlight ways in which myths of the underworld are a source of meaning and significance for enhancing the human experience. Beauty is found in laying down one’s pride, power, and identity in life, to attain the wisdom of the underworld. Somehow, one must know about death to understand life, and therefore these myths are touching on what it means to truly feel alive. Beauty is found in laying down one’s pride, power, and identity in life, to attain the wisdom of the underworld. Insight of the underworld I find it interesting how Notre-Dame-Sous-Terre was hidden for so many years beneath the surface. Like so many goddess figures lost to time. In Episode 5 of the Power of Myth , “ Love and the Goddess ,” Bill Moyers introduces the conversation with Campbell by inquiring about the disappearance of goddess figures, stating that “patriarchal authority finally drove the goddess from the pantheon of imagination” (26:58). Moyers then pointedly asks Campbell, “The Lord’s Prayer begins, ‘Our Father, which art in heaven.’ Could it have begun ‘Our Mother’?” (27:27). “What psychological difference would it have made …?” (33:47). “Well,” Campbell responds, “it makes a psychological difference in the character of the cultures” (33:56). The myths we hold dear in our societies inform societal actions. So too Campbell's statement seems to imply that what is lost to time or buried in the underworld affects the upperworld as well. Later in the episode, Campbell suggests that the goddess returned, “She came back with the virgin in the Roman Catholic tradition … Notre Dame” (37:33). Perhaps Notre-Dame-Sous-Terre, Our Lady of the underworld has something to say about this as well. Campbell asserts that these female figures are surfacing, their presence offering balance, insight, and wisdom to the culture. Surfacing What does it mean for female figures who have been lost to time to step into the light? These goddesses, heroines, and leaders who have remained hidden and unseen for so long–do we fear them, like those who fear the Greek goddess Persephone, or do we welcome their wisdom as the Sumerian goddess Inanna seeking Erishkigal? Can we even begin to remember the time when the church upon the island of Mont-Saint-Michel was dedicated to her, Our Lady Underneath, before the gothic cathedral was built atop her? Perhaps a starting point for excavating the gifts of the goddess is where the “Love and the Goddess” episode ends. Moyers and Campbell have taken the conversation beyond words. Moyers inquires, “And it begins here?” (56:06) as he points to his body, the internal world that is “the womb of all of our being” (54:22), represented mythically as the goddess. And Campbell knowingly nods, responding, “It begins here” (56:06). What must it mean then, from the womb of being, to allow what has been repressed, buried, and hidden for so many years to come into the light? What gifts might this goddess from underneath the earth offer? MythBlast authored by: Stephanie Zajchowski, PhD is a mythologist and writer based in Texas. She serves as the Director of Operations for the Joseph Campbell Foundation and is a contributing author of Goddesses: A Skeleton Key Study Guide. Stephanie is also a co-founder of the Fates and Graces, hosting webinars and workshops for mythic readers and writers. Her work focuses on the intersection of mythology, religion, and women’s studies. For more information, visit stephaniezajchowski.com This MythBlast was inspired by  The Power of Myth  Episode 5, and Goddesses Latest Podcast In this episode, Campbell speaks to the relationship of mythology to psychology. He goes through the four functions of myth and emphasizes the fourth function - the psychological. He focuses on why this psychological function is so important in our contemporary world. The lecture was recorded at the Houston Jung Center in 1972. Host Brad Olson introduces the lecture and offers a commentary at the end. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "There was a whole galaxy of mythologies that influenced each other in that period, back and forth, leading to the Christian recovery of the Goddess. . . . with the Christians in the first centuries, she comes back very strongly. There are certain aspects of Catholicism, for instance, where Mary is more important than either the Father, Son, or Holy Ghost. In all of the great cathedrals of Notre Dame, she is the guardian, protecting, mediating Mother. See, the god image as it is in our tradition is a pretty heavy one—he’s a kind of savage deity—and the mother is a protective, intermediary screen. When she’s wiped out in Puritanism, God becomes really a ferocious figure, as you read in some of those Puritan sermons." -- Joseph Campbell Myth and Meaning , 53 The Great Goddess (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

The human woman does give birth as the earth gives birth to the plants. She gives nourishment as the plants do. So, woman magic and earth magic are the same, they are related. And the personification, then, of this energy which gives birth to forms and nourishes forms is properly female. And so, it is in the agricultural world of ancient Mesopotamia, the Egyptian Nile, but also in the earlier planting culture systems, that the goddess is the mythic form that is dominant. Joseph Campbell, Power of Myth with Bill Moyers , 209-210 Worshiping nature and women appears in many classical myths. Aphrodite is born from the foam of the sea, when Cronus castrates his father Uranus, and throws his severed genitals into the sea. According to some less bizarre and cruel myths, she was the daughter of Zeus and Dione. Desirable and beautiful, she restores youth, fertility, and beauty to those who respect her. She was married to Hephaestus, but was constantly unfaithful to him, kidnapping lovers, starting wars because of her arrogance, and disrupting the love affairs of those who disrespected her. During one sexual encounter with Ares, her husband Hephaestus covered them with a metal wire, so that all the gods would laugh at their adultery. Aphrodite promised fidelity to Hephaestus, but Hermes saw this act of two lovers and fell madly in love with her. From this next adultery of hers, Hermaphrodite was born, a young man with a woman's breasts and long hair. Hermaphroditism arises as an idea in the transition from matriarchy to patriarchy. Aphrodite was constantly causing trouble, but also solving problems, granting wishes and giving back life, beauty and immortality. Paradoxically, she helped establish patriarchy, a society that James Brown describes as: This is a man's, man's, man's world But it wouldn't be nothing, nothing without a woman or a girl Through the centuries that followed in this men's world, Aphrodite suffered oppression and persecution, and her followers went through metamorphosis. However, the love, fertility, and beauty she represents is found in other shapes and forms in different cultures over the history of patriarchal rule. The women-guardians of the patriarchy of Mediterranean culture are best illustrated by the line of the "Mother Goddess“ Maria Portokalos in the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding (2002): “Let me tell you something. The man is the head, but the woman is the neck. And she can turn the head any way she wants.” Aphrodites all over the world know how to turn heads, and at the same time keep the paterfamilias order, pretending that they are only the neck and not the head of the house. Famous sentences of the baby boomer generation, including "Now I'm going to call your father" or „Just wait till your dad comes home," simulate the power of the male principle in society, while actually showing the true power of the goddess–the guardian of the order who controls and gives birth to life and love. Aphrodite Archetypes Joseph Campbell asserted that the deity is the personification of energy. Mythology is something that is woven into our reality but is not a fact per se. It is metaphoric and symbolic in relation to reality. Female deities around the world personify the same metaphorical energy of love, fertility, lust, and birth. The Greek Aphrodite, the Phoenician Astarte, the Egyptian Isis and Hathor, the Babylonian Ishtar or the Sumerian Inanna, the pre-Islamic Arab goddess Al Uzzi, the Nordic Freya, and the Aztec Xochiquetzal ruled the cultures of the first agricultural cities. These goddesses are imprinted with comparable and compatible archetypes of love and passion. However, the “enemy of lust” in the form of Christian teachings appeared in the Middle East and soon spread throughout Europe. Aphrodite or Venus became assimilated as the Mother of God in the new popular religion, where she remains partly until the Renaissance and partly today. In the Eastern traditions, the Indian name for a woman is Maya-Shakti-Devi, which means: "Goddess who gives life and mother of all forms." Patience of the Goddess These rulers of all forms, through the flexibility of the cervical vertebrae with which they turn the governing structures, show a great power of adaptation and metamorphosis throughout history. The Goddess archetypes have, incredibly in the face of patriarchal power, survived persecution throughout the ages. For example, women who had cats did not get sick during the plague epidemic. Cats eat mice, and mice carry the plague. Thus the patriarchal leaders reasoned that those women must be immune to the Black Death by conspiring with Satan, and they need to be burned at the stake. Even fairy tales, echoing this reasoning, depict witches as the proud owners of black cats. In many cultures, the archetype of the feminine principle is demonized through conservative religious dogmas, which become expressed in explicitly patriarchal and warrior societies. Obstruction of the talents and gifts of the goddess of love and beauty, through feelings that cause joy, mirth, or happiness, originates from some sort of witch hunt on the goddesses. Just as in state systems, where oligarchies, autocracies, or dictatorships make rules, so in social systems, not tied to any particular monotheistic god, the rules for morality, behavior, and appearance in public were imposed on women. Since the flexible goddesses' necks skillfully turned and swiveled through the ages, thus guarding the order, they adapted to different forms of demonization, always knowing that survival and the source of all life was within them. So, they were patient, because even the Bible’s patriarchal slant cannot dim this truth about love: Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. 1 Corinthians 13:4 Return to the Goddess The patience of Mother Earth and persisting feminine principles in the context of morality and social arrangements will certainly be of significance in our modern society, which is on the verge of a global war. The patriarchal-warrior and profitable industrial concept of our age has already made Mother Earth, old Tiamat, very angry. Global warming, apocalyptic weather changes, meaningless patriarchal laws and rules, production of henchmen-warriors and obedient workers in our education systems, greed, corruption, destruction of nature, wars, and tensions raging among nuclear powers, are not the product of Aphrodite's whims, but of testosterone from gods of thunder and warriors, who think that by erecting fences and drawing borders, the land they conquered belongs to them. The Goddess archetypes have, incredibly in the face of patriarchal power, survived persecution throughout the ages.  Aphrodite, no matter how capricious, forgives and grants wishes. Goddesses tend to give, not take, life. Their purpose primarily is to give birth, not to conquer. They have many faces and names and have suffered much in turning men's hot heads. Aphrodite's gift is one of the most important gifts of all the “pagan” gods: unconditional love and the birth of life. It is necessary to respect this through the understanding of the gift of life that we have, through love and unity in the desire for the beautiful and good, as well as through the preservation of nature and the respect of the Earth Goddess, which should be passed unharmed as a legacy to the next generations. MythBlast authored by: Dr. Lejla Panjeta is a Professor of Film Studies and Visual Communication. She was a professor and guest lecturer in many international and Bosnian universities. She also directed and produced in theatre, worked in film production, and authored documentary films. She curated university exhibitions and film projects. She won awards for her artistic and academic works. She is the author and editor of books on film studies, art, and communication. Her recent publication was the bilingual illustrated encyclopedic guide – Filmbook , made for everyone from 8 to 108 years old. Her research interests are in the fields of aesthetics, propaganda, communication, visual arts, cultural and film studies, and mythology. https://independent.academia.edu/LejlaPanjeta This MythBlast was inspired by  The Power of Myth  Episode 5, and Goddesses Latest Podcast In this episode of Pathways, Joseph Campbell speaks at the Cooper Union in New York City in December 1967. He explores the "mythology of love" - from eros to agape and beyond. Host, Bradley Olson introduces the lecture and gives commentary at the end. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "The human woman does give birth as the earth gives birth to the plants. She gives nourishment as the plants do. So, woman magic and earth magic are the same, they are related. And the personification, then, of this energy which gives birth to forms and nourishes forms is properly female. And so, it is in the agricultural world of ancient Mesopotamia, the Egyptian Nile, but also in the earlier planting culture systems, that the goddess is the mythic form that is dominant." -- Joseph Campbell The Power of Myth with Bill Moyers 209-210 The Virgin Birth (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

During a recent wellbeing fair, I attended a mental health workshop on preventing burnout. Surprisingly, I learned that over half of US employees express feelings of burnout (websites below), a startling enough trend that companies are working to mitigate its effects. Some time later, while listening to Episode 24 of The Podcast with a Thousand Faces , I heard Dr. Ben Rogers, Assistant Professor of Management & Organization at Boston College, explain how his ongoing research on the psychological benefits of framing one’s life within the pattern of the Hero’s Journey could be used to help alleviate burnout (48:40-50:37). This insight stirred my curiosity. Perhaps in addition to reducing the impact of burnout on the current workforce, a mythological take on burnout could offer insight and meaning to the experience. This MythBlast is the beginnings of such an endeavor. The call to adventure The Hero’s Journey begins with the call to adventure, a moment that marks a change in the hero’s life. The hero can refuse the call to adventure or willingly enter into the ordeal, either way they sense that change is happening. Beyond this point everything will be different. Soon after the call to adventure, the hero comes to the first threshold–a space that marks the end of the known domain. Beyond this crossing lies an unknown world of both promise and peril. To enter into this unchartered territory, the hero faces a threshold guardian. Innumerable characters or elemental agents serve as threshold guardians in myth. Ogres, dragons, and monsters are some of the mythic images of threshold guardians, all of which are entities that halt the hero’s journey. Joseph Campbell states that these “custodians bound the world in the four directions–also up and down–standing for the limits of the hero’s present sphere, or life horizon” ( Hero with a Thousand Faces , 64). Beyond this point is the initiation that will broaden the hero’s experience and expand the hero’s consciousness. Thus begins the transformation of the hero. But first, they must overcome the threshold guardian to prove worthy of transformation. Burnout as a threshold guardian If one were to characterize burnout in the Hero’s Journey, it would be a threshold guardian. Like a sorcerer transfixing the hero with the illusion of boundless assignments, burnout stops the momentum forward, halting the journey with tasks and fruitless labor. Myths present images of what one might imagine burnout to feel like. Studies show that the stress of constant work leaves people feeling cynical, losing their sense of achievement and connection to the driving forces within ( World Health Organization ). People have too much to do, and thus the vitality of life has been dampened by exhaustion and overwhelm. One could see the Greek goddess Psyche feeling such overwhelm when tasked by Aphrodite to sort barrels of grain by nightfall. Cynicism and the loss of achievement could be imagined in the Greek myth of Sisyphus whose ordeal is to push a boulder up a hill until he almost reaches the top, only for the boulder to roll back down to the bottom of the hill so he can begin the endeavor all over again. The task saturation of constant work can feel like the emotional and physical weight described in these myths. Burnout as a threshold guardian is a seemingly benevolent custodian whose snare traps the hero. The hero completes each task only for another to be placed before them, stuck in an ongoing cycle and thus not progressing on the journey. Remedies for burnout often include stress management, diet and exercise, rest, or time away from work. While these are worthy endeavors, the root of burnout seems deeper. Even if we step away from the hamster wheel of task overload, the tasks await our return. Breaking the spell of burnout requires perspective to see the mechanisms at work in our lives in order to regain one’s center, the source of the call to life which began the adventure in the first place. Campbell expresses in Episode 1 of the Power of Myth , “ The Hero’s Adventure ,” that we are all “living in terms of a system, and this is the threat to our lives, we all face it, we all operate in our society in relation to a system. Now, is the system going to eat you up and relieve you of your humanity? Or, are you going to be able to use the system to human purposes” (27:00-27:25). In other words, can we maneuver within the system enough to maintain our sense of self? If not, then it’s time to step out of the system for a time in order to find our center and regain a bird’s-eye view of the greater journey. The system has limited our growth causing us to lose the vitality of feeling alive. Burnout is the system eating you up. Dispelling burnout’s hold The challenge then is to first identify the burnout and recognize its hold on us. Often in the hero’s journey, threshold guardians are clearly identified as an adversary that the hero battles directly. Burnout’s secret weapon is the quiet way it consumes us. Some of the most difficult threshold guardians to pass through are the quiet and insidious ones that bind us while we aren’t even conscious of their presence. The mundane tasks that slowly drain one's energy, quietly restricting our soul in the tedium of what appears to be important, maintaining the illusion of grandeur with empty achievements–like food that doesn’t nourish or water that doesn’t alleviate thirst–the too-much-ness that life brings when we try to do it all. Once identified, the trance of burnout is dispelled and can either be aligned with the greater human cause or slayed altogether by wielding the immense power of the word “no.” As with the Hero’s Journey, to cross the threshold into the domain of transformation, the hero has to pass the threshold guardian by strategy, wit, or strength. One can trick the guardian, or beguile them to change their ways, or slay them–whatever the encounter, something must change in order to cross the threshold. Determining the best way to interact with this threshold guardian requires self-inquiry. Are the tasks at hand in line with the heroic endeavor, or detracting from it and allowing the system freedom to consume one’s life? For Psyche, sifting the grain is one venture of many on her journey to gain immortality. The monotonous and overwhelming task of sorting grain is a laborious task that is one step of a greater journey. For Sisyphus, however, the ordeal of pushing the boulder up the hill is never-ending. He is stuck forever in a cycle of finishing one task just to start another with no greater purpose to his labor. For Psyche, burnout is a trial; for Sisyphus it's a torment. In the day-to-day grind, it’s challenging to see the difference between tasks that are moving us forward on the journey and tasks that have us walking in place. Fear of the unknown, societal commitments, or misplaced desire yearning for something that is not necessarily tied to the greater cause of the adventure can keep us in stasis. We lose ourselves in the endeavors of the moment rather than holding the center within us that guides us forward on our path. Burnout then becomes a sign asking us to come back to our center to attain an outlook that encompasses the bigger story at play. Like a threshold guardian, burnout then is something to recognize and overcome. The dragon to slay, the ogre to trick, or the sleeping spell from which to awaken. Finding meaning in the mundane Infusing burnout with a sense of mythic meaning may not alleviate the issue at hand, but seeing our day-to-day lives mythically does have a way of pulling one out of the grind and offering perspective. The patterns at play in our lives can sometimes appear less daunting when we can place those experiences within a grand archetypal pattern understood by many. The patterns at play in our lives can sometimes appear less daunting when we can place those experiences within a grand archetypal pattern understood by many. Burnout, as the name suggests, snuffs out our fire, the vitality that enlivens us with the feeling of being alive. Beyond this threshold guardian is a domain in which to expand consciousness, a playground of exploration. On the other side of the threshold is a rekindling of the life-spark. Taking the first step into this unknown realm takes a tremendous amount of strength. Many never embark on the journey because the status-quo is just too comfortable. The system whispers in our ear that it is better to deal with burnout than failure. The call to adventure beyond the threshold is the call of the life-spark within each of us. The minute we step away from all the tasks demanding our time, someone comes in to replace us. The system will replace us. But our life is ours alone. No one can live it but us. MythBlast authored by: Stephanie Zajchowski, PhD is a mythologist and writer based in Texas. She serves as the Director of Operations for the Joseph Campbell Foundation and is a contributing author of Goddesses: A Skeleton Key Study Guide. Stephanie is also a co-founder of the Fates and Graces, hosting webinars and workshops for mythic readers and writers. Her work focuses on the intersection of mythology, religion, and women’s studies. For more information, visit stephaniezajchowski.com This MythBlast was inspired by  The Power of Myth  Episode 6, and The Hero with a Thousand Faces Latest Podcast Dr. Reedy has a Ph.D. in Marriage and Family Therapy. Brad has broadcast over 1,300 webinars on parenting since 2007, and hosts the podcast “Finding You” He is also the author of two books on parenting and self-discovery: The Journey of the Heroic Parent and The Audacity to Be You. Brad has developed an accessible and liberating approach to adolescents, young adults, and their parents. His powerful ability to use his own story and stories from the thousands of families he has treated, offers hope to families suffering from mental health, addiction, and stage-of-life issues. Brad is a co-founder and the Executive Clinical Director of Evoke Therapy Programs, which provides therapeutic services for adolescents, young adults, parents, families, and individuals looking to gain greater intimacy in their relationships. In the conversation, he and John Bucher of the Joseph Campbell Foundation, talk about Brad’s life and work, storytelling and its role in a therapeutic setting, how myths can be used in parenting, and how Campbell’s work has been an important guide in Brad’s life. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "All life has drudgery to it ... In Zen, however, even while you're washing the dishes, that's a meditation, that's an act of life. Sometimes the drudgery itself can become part of the hero deed. The point is not to get stuck in the drudgery, but to use it to free you." -- Joseph Campbell Pathways to Bliss , 156 Slaying The Dragon (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

I once attended a workshop that included a day spent reliving one’s teenage years. Participants were divided into high schools and assigned a variety of tasks: adopting a school mascot and motto, painting papier-mâché masks to reflect a school identity, writing a class song, and competing against other schools in a variety of silly, playful contests. A lot of triggers there, but also lots of laughter and fun for all involved . . . except for one couple in their seventies, who seemed at a loss. Yuki and Miko had traveled from Japan for this workshop. Their formal education followed a far different trajectory than those of us born in the United States, which made it difficult for them to relate to the assigned activities. With no shared cultural experience to draw on, they were quiet, reserved, almost painfully shy, in contrast to the casual and convivial informality of their schoolmates. Nevertheless, Yuki and Miko gamely volunteered to represent their school in the dance competition, to the song “Bye, Bye, Miss American Pie.” Rehearsal, however, proved awkward and stiff, despite helpful tips and demonstrations from others––no rhythm, no flow, no sense of joy to their movements. That evening, when the elderly couple stepped up and the lights dimmed, they surprised everyone by donning the full face masks they had painted earlier––and then, as the first notes sounded, Yuki and Miko vanished, replaced by two young, lithe masked dancers who twirled, dipped, bounced, and boogie-woogied through the high energy portions of the piece, then segued into a supple, sinuous, sensual embrace as the music slowed, bodies swaying as one, like two high school sweethearts at the prom. The music stopped. Yuki and Miko removed their masks, bowed, and all forty participants burst into cheers and applause. There was momentary speculation they were professional dancers who had fooled us all; how else could they have spontaneously performed such an intricate, elaborate, well-choreographed dance? Miko, who had a somewhat better command of English than her husband, smiled at the idea. “That not us. Too embarrassing to do alone, and never around people.” Then just who were we watching? “The masks. The masks danced for us!" Acting “as if” The masks of God invite us in the direction of the experience of God; they are composed, you might say, to fit the mentality and spiritual condition of the people to whom these masks are directed. In the naive relationship of popular religion, people actually think that what I’m calling a mask of God is God—but they are intermediates between divorce from God and movement toward the mystery. ( Myth and Meaning: Conversations on Mythology and Life 74) How does Joseph Campbell arrive at this metaphor of the mask? Is it simply a clever literary device, no more than instructive analogy? Or does the mask worn in rituals present an embodied experience, serving as the vehicle for archetypal energies that actually transform the wearer? Masks have long provided a gateway to other dimensions, other realms, beyond the senses. According to Campbell, “The mask motif indicates that the person you see is two people. He’s the one wearing the mask and he is the mask that’s worn—that is, the mask of the role” ( Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine 37). This is very much the way an actor dissolves into a role. The mark of a good actor is to become the character they portray. The audience meets the actor more than halfway; when we watch a movie or attend a play, we expect to suspend our disbelief. We know that Harrison Ford isn’t really a dashing and daring archaeologist, and Nicole Kidman no southern belle, but we go along with the pretense. If the actors are skillful and the drama well written, then we are able to enter into this “play world,” experiencing the adventure and its accompanying emotion as if they are real. It’s not surprising to learn that the earliest theatrical productions in ancient Greece evolved from sacred rituals –– which brings us back to masks, for the actors in these plays wore masks. (That is not unique to Greece: the same can be said for the development of theater in many parts of Asia; even today, in Japan, masks are worn in Noh plays). Initiation The masks that in our demythologized time are lightly assumed for the entertainment of a costume ball or Mardi Gras—and may actually, on such occasions, release us to activities and experiences which might otherwise have been tabooed—are vestiges of an earlier magic, in which the powers to be invoked were not simply psychological, but cosmic. For the appearances of the natural order, which are separate from each other in time and space, are in fact the manifestation of energies that inform all things. (Campbell, The Historical Atlas of World Mythology: The Way of the Animal Powers , Part I, 93) According to Campbell, the mask serves as a conduit for the community to powers which transcend the individual. But the mask is also used in many cultures as an agent of individual transformation. Masks have the power to transform even when they are not worn. A classic scene appears on a wall fresco preserved beneath volcanic ash in the Villa of Mysteries in Pompeii. A youth bends over and peers into a silver bowl held up by a bearded figure, generally thought to be playing the role of Silenus, the satyr who served as teacher to Dionysus. The youth is told to look in the metal bowl to see his own true face––but the bowl acts as a concave mirror. Behind the lad an assistant holds up a mask; instead of his own face, the initiate is shocked to see the face of old age: ”the whole body of life from birth to death.” Campbell explains the significance of this reveal: Now suppose one of his friends, before he went in there, had said to him, “Now look, this guy in there is going to have a bowl and he is going to tell you that you’re going to see your own face. You’re not! He’s got another fellow there who’s holding this mask thing up behind you so that what you will see is nothing more than a reflection.” If this happened, there would be no initiation. There would be no shock. This is why mysteries are kept secret. An initiation is a shock. Birth is a shock; rebirth is a shock. All that is transformative must be experienced as if for the first time. ( Mythos I: The Shaping of Our Mythic Traditions, Episode 3: “On Being Human”) Masks within masks The indigenous tribes in the American Northwest, from the Kwakiutl to the Haida, are known for their Transformation Masks. This is a double mask, with the outer mask usually in the form of an animal. After fasting in the woods, then dancing into a frenzy in the lodge house, the masked dancer reaches a state of ecstasy and opens the hinged outer mask to reveal the interior: the image of an ancestral spirit. The dancer experiences a double transformation, identifying not just with the Animal whose mask he wears, but also with the Ancestor. The masked dancer enters a realm that once was and yet still is, a dimension where humans and animals are able to change form, hidden behind the world of waking reality. The wearer experiences the unity of all life: hunter and hunted; animal, human, and ancestral spirit––these are but masks for the one Life that animates All. Are such realizations possible today? After all, ceremonial masks seem somewhat archaic in this secular age––art objects to be collected, rather than tools for transformation. Surely, we have moved beyond the magic and the mystery today. And yet, my thoughts keep returning to Miko and Yuki. Their masks put them in touch with something greater than themselves, beyond their lived experience, that connected them with everyone in the room ... which may be why “mask” is such an apt metaphor for myth: Myths are the “masks of God” through which men everywhere have sought to relate themselves to the wonders of existence. (Campbell, The Hero’s Journey: Joseph Campbell on His Life and Work xx) MythBlast authored by: Stephen Gerringer has been a Working Associate at the Joseph Campbell Foundation (JCF) since 2004. His post-college career trajectory interrupted when a major health crisis prompted a deep inward turn, Stephen “dropped out” and spent most of the next decade on the road, thumbing his away across the country on his own hero quest. Stephen did eventually “drop back in,” accepting a position teaching English and Literature in junior high school. Stephen is the author of Myth and Modern Living: A Practical Campbell Compendium , as well as editor of Myth and Meaning: Conversations on Mythology and Life , a volume compiled from little-known print and audio interviews with Joseph Campbell. This MythBlast was inspired by  The Power of Myth  Episode 6, and The Hero's Journey Latest Podcast Joseph Campbell speaks at Cooper Union in New York in 1964 on the many functions of ritual and how it shapes the individual, the consequences of the degradation of ritual, and the role of creativity in ritual. Host, Brad Olson, offers an introduction and commentary after the talk in this episode of the Pathways podcast. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "Myths are the “masks of God” through which men everywhere have sought to relate themselves to the wonders of existence." -- Joseph Campbell , The Hero's Journey, xx The Hidden Dimension (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

“From very early—around four or five years old—I was fascinated by American Indians, and that became my real studying. I went to school and had no problems with my studies, but my own enthusiasm was in this maverick realm of the American Indian mythologies.” —Joseph Campbell ( The Hero’s Journey , 6) The maverick realm of Native American mythologies ignited the transcendent passion for mythology that Joseph Campbell is known for. The Native American spirit inspired Campbell to study myth and beyond; it revealed to him a world of wonder and philosophic insight. After all, as Aristotle famously put it, “a man who is puzzled and wonders thinks himself ignorant (whence even the lover of myth is in a sense a lover of Wisdom, for the myth is composed of wonders).” ( Metaphysics 982b19) Native American Mythologies extend their wonders and wisdom far south of the border, spreading mythography across three subcontinents: North, Central, and South America. If we were to travel with native leaders across these native lands, we would experience a variety of rituals and customs, strange languages and symbolism, all bearing testimony to the rich creativity of the indigenous mythological imagination. At the same time, we would also be struck by a fundamental sense of agreement, a common-sense wisdom, everywhere shared by indigenous peoples across the Americas—and beyond. The wisdom of the peoples Struck by this remarkable archetypal sympathy among Native peoples, Chief Oren Lyons—a faithkeeper of the Turtle Clan, esteemed member of the Onondaga Council of Chiefs, Haudenosaunee (Six Nations Iroquois Confederacy)—gives testimony to this profound accord of Native American Wisdom. When he visited the Maya in Central America, despite not knowing the language, the specific dances, or rituals, somehow “I know what’s going on,” said the Iroquois Chief. “It’s always the same,” he continued, “Thanksgiving to the creation. Thanksgiving to the life-giving forces of the earth” (“ Tree Media: Oren Lyons on the Indigenous View of the World " 15:20-52). There is a shared font of wisdom that unites indigenous peoples across the earth. Rather than a secret anti-rational or “mystical” doctrine reserved for the privileged few, however, the Wisdom of the Peoples gives itself out as the plainest of rational common sense. Otherwise it would not be of the people. There is a shared font of wisdom that unites indigenous peoples across the earth As Chief Lyons reiterated, it comes down to the most elementary lessons of human coexistence, such as the principle of sharing, about which the Council of Iroquois Nations found themselves in “profound agreement,” summing up their treaty in the emblem: “one dish, one spoon.” Everyone deserves one dish, one spoon. No one should go without. Food and shelter, healthcare and education, are all human rights and not privileges for those who can afford them. Understand, we are all in the same boat, etc. Such are the simple lessons we used to pass to our children: don’t think only about yourself, learn to share; don’t fight, make peace. Be grateful to the earth. Respect the natural environment and its biodiversity, your elders, etc. These lessons seem so childishly simple, and yet, as Chief Lyons observes, everything in our capitalist culture is hell-bent on giving us the “opposite instruction”: think only about yourself; care only for your private gains and benefits; amass more wealth and power; be content to serve your corporate masters, and do not concern yourself with the fate of others. “And they’re rewarded for that” ( 14:00-15:07 ), says the Chief Elder, thus underlining the madness of so-called Western civilization. For the sake of this narcissistic lifestyle, representing the triumph of hyper-individualism, our society rewards sociopaths, liars, thieves, and scoundrels. Dismantling the colonial gaze This is not a controversial claim. All native people across the globe are in full agreement with a growing consensus among young people: our system, in its current shape, causes a lot more harm than good. Placing profits over people, it is committed to the destruction and ruthless exploitation of our environment, our labor, and our very souls. There is nothing that is not for sale within the frameworks of global capitalism, including the human soul. Rather than promoting “democracy” and “freedom,” the interests of a tiny minority takes precedence over the common good—nay, even over the survival of entire peoples, life forms, and ecosystems. There is something absolutely crazy about the system, something that runs against the exercise of reason and common sense. It is no wonder that its ideological matrix profits from the irrationalist “mythic” core of our belief systems and pet theories. Power centers do not want a population to think rationally, to think critically, structurally, about the economic logic of the system that determines and shapes our entire society. It does not want us to see through the basic ideological fantasy that underlies it, namely, the Hobbesian idea that human beings are fundamentally selfish and greedy, and badly in need of a Master. Enemy of the state If we are true seekers of Native American wisdom, however, we cannot get on board this irrationalist bandwagon which opens the door to a narcissistic appropriation of myth as a tool for our success in a capitalist system. We need to be critically aware that this narcissistic appropriation of the other is an extension of the colonial gaze that already frames our study of mythology. As we approach native cultures, we must wrestle with our own unconscious prejudices and beliefs, powerful ideological fantasies that have been driven into us since we were children playing cowboy and Indians. This objectifying and exoticizing gaze is itself derived from hegemonic power structures and material conditions which we take for granted in the West. These economic and political structures have a powerful ideological or “spiritual” hold over Western readers, who are in every way predisposed—or “educated”—to side with imperialist projects of any description. Smuggling the colonial gaze into the study of Native American Wisdom, we do not notice the fatal contradiction inherent in the “metaphysical” violence of our objectifying quest. The patronizing adoration of indigenous culture, the dismissal of their common-sense wisdom as childish or archaic—all speak to the symbolic violence of this colonial gaze. But this violence of cultural appropriation is only an offshoot of the quite real, murderous violence that has always accompanied colonial projects throughout their history. Placing Native bodies in the killing fields of genocidal conquest, the colonial gaze is by definition in full support of imperialist domination over Native peoples and their lands. As the all-seeing eye of “Western interests” with its well-funded capacity to unleash hell on earth, the imperial gaze is ready to annihilate anyone standing in its way—not excluding women and children, schools and hospitals. Accelerating climate catastrophe and socio-economic breakdown, supporting genocidal wars and courting nuclear holocaust, this disastrous mindset is driving us today, full force, to the literal brink of extinction. In the ideological matrix of cultural capitalism, Native American wisdom can only appear as the enemy. Chief Lyons expressed as much when he said that “the American structure” is everywhere giving us “instructions” to go directly against the principle of sharing, that is, against the communitarian sense and socialist vision of the Wisdom of the Peoples. Within the hegemonic space of this selfish culture, “you have an instruction that’s contrary—v ery contrary to this concept [of sharing]” ( 15:08- 15:17 ). How do we subvert and dismantle the colonial cage? Not without a revolution of thought and vision. MythBlast authored by: Norland Téllez is an award-winning writer and animation director who currently teaches Animation and Character Design courses at Otis College of Art and Design, Cal State Fullerton. He is also conducting a Life Drawing Lab at USC School of Cinematic Arts. He earned his Ph.D. from Pacifica Graduate Institute in 2009 with a dissertation on the Popol-Wuh of the K’iche’ Maya, which he is currently translating and illustrating in its archetypal dimensions as the Wisdom of the Peoples. You can learn more at norlandtellez.com . This MythBlast was inspired by  The Power of Myth  Episode 6, and The Hero's Journey Latest Podcast Welcome to the fourth season of Pathways with Joseph Campbell! This episode entitled, "The Psychological Basis of Freedom", was recorded at Bennett College in North Carolina in 1970. Host, Bradley Olson introduces the episode and gives commentary after the lecture. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "Black Elk was a Lakota Oglala Sioux who had in his youth a mystical vision of the destiny before his people. He saw “the hoop of his nation,” as he called it, as one of many hoops, and all the hoops interlocking, and all of them expressing the same humanity. The hoop of his little nation had to be opened out and become one of many, many hoops of many, many nations." -- Joseph Campbell , Myth and Meaning , 24 Joseph Campbell — Jung, Pedagogy, and Projection of the Shadow (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

Life among the luminous As the sixth of seven children, I grew up surrounded by people who towered over me and performed feats of astonishing creativity and capacity. My brother was a centaur riding his motorcycle. Dad designed a car wash machine, penciling mysterious schematics of circuitry onto flattened cardboard boxes, as Hephaestus might if he owned a gas station. Mom floated on air when she executed swan dives into the lake, and, in winter, on the frozen pond behind the house, she skated circles around me—forward and backward—like a water spirit of the north. My four older sisters drew, painted, baked, photographed, sewed, played basketball, softball, and piano, and regaled me with stories they invented on the spot. One sister would materialize as though out of nowhere to give me magical elixirs—a bottle heated to just the right temperature, a tiny cup of “jello juice” she scooped from the mixing bowl before the liquid gelatin went into the fridge. I can still taste that sweet, warm, red nectar. When my younger sister arrived, she glowed like the divine child with eyes of clear blue quartz and gleaming coppery hair. It all felt miraculous. Stunning. I had blundered into a pantheon of powers greater than myself, and I adored them all, exactly the way I would so many goddesses and gods. I had blundered into a pantheon of powers greater than myself, and I adored them all, exactly the way I would so many goddesses and gods. With no language to describe it, I was experiencing my family’s transparence to transcendence, as Joseph Campbell calls it ( The Hero’s Journey: Joseph Campbell on His Life and Work , 51). My child’s eyes let me see what Campbell calls “the radiance of the presence of the divine” ( The Power of Myth , 267). That radiance shone through my family as though through a cluster of suns. Unfortunately, I was hopelessly opaque.   When the light dims So there I was, handed from giant to dazzling giant, tossed in the air like a squealing beach ball, spun in circles then set down to fall over in the grass, laughing with giddy dizziness—much the way religious experience leaves me feeling. But I had no awareness of my own talents. I couldn’t sense Campbell’s radiance shining through me. This luminosity, for Campbell, occurs especially in the experience of art, poetry, myth, and religion ( The Power of Myth , 277, 283, 259, 285)—all of which are fields of human creativity. I knew it existed, because I’d seen it from the outside, but I had no experience of it myself. All I had was a desperate desire to participate in the fun everyone else was having. Before long my siblings started going off to college, marriages, jobs, journeys. I wept at the airport when we dropped them off. It was like I lost God, every single time. I self-medicated with books—another form of creative marvel which I had no idea how to make. I longed to write stories, the way the Brontë sisters did. But no one taught me how, not in high school, not in college. So, after graduating, I read about narrative structure. I attended writing classes and conferences. I joined writing groups, and I wrote terrible stories, one after another after another. Ten full years of this went by, and then one day I came across Ray Bradbury’s book Zen and the Art of Writing , in which he advises aspiring writers to write one story a week every week for a year. Well, why not? Nothing else had worked, so I rolled up my sleeves. The first week, I wrote a terrible story. The second week, a horrible story. Weeks three, four, five, and six: awful story after awful story. My settings lacked vitality. Plots petered out. Characters lay flat on the page, stubbornly refusing to stand up and do anything. Looking back, I must have been as stubborn as they were. My grim determination would not let me give up, no matter how much I despaired over each failure. Stubbornness, meet surrender In the seventh week of my Bradbury challenge, I had a vague idea for a character and setting. The first few pages filled up decently well, but the middle slowed down. Words dried to a trickle. Then they stopped. I had no idea what came next. The sun had gone down, and it was a Thursday—late in the week, late in the day, late in my soul. Why was I unable to write a story? None of my siblings would struggle like this, not with their array of talents. But it was time to make supper, so I gave up. This story would be another swing and a miss. I turned off my computer and trudged down the shadowy staircase from my office to the kitchen, letting gravity do most of the work. Downstairs, the windows were squares of the evening’s deepening blue, the furniture all but invisible in the dark. As I stepped off the last stair, I flipped the switch for the kitchen lights, as I always did. Unlike other times, though, this time when the kitchen lit up, so did the story’s ending. There it was, all at once, and it was perfect. Perfect! I loved it! Surprising yet inevitable, it fit the previous pages like a key in a lock, and I had not invented it. The story’s ending arrived in my mind all on its own, at the same moment as that burst of light. Electrical light and story light flooded me both at once, along with a feeling of indescribable joy and impossible delight, wordless, timeless, thrilling, alive. If a camera had recorded that moment, it might have captured Eureka photons beaming from my ears, somewhere on the light spectrum just this side of indigo. The radiance. The divine. Still breathless, I wrote up the ending. That was my first published story. But while I edited, I was looking over my shoulder. Who or what had come up with that ending? It certainly wasn’t me. A creativity credo  I was thirty-five when that story’s ending burst in and lit up my imagination. That’s thirty-five trips around the sun before I found a situation where the radiance could shine through. Afterwards, it became more accessible. That’s why I believe creativity can be cultivated. But chasing the mystery of how that insight happened became more urgent for me than writing more stories. The embodied sensation of light was so overwhelming, so benefic, that I found myself in graduate school learning about creativity and creation myth. I never solved the mystery, and I never will, but I learned that creation myths represent creativity metaphorically, masking the radiance in stories about forces that pour into the world, stop us in our tracks, break through sometimes in the experience of art, myth, and religion. I believe Campbell is right that mythic images represent our spiritual potential, and encountering them, thinking about them, actually activates them in our lives ( The Power of Myth , 273). If goddesses and gods embody and evoke cosmic powers, creator deities embody and evoke creativity. And because creator deities are sacred, so is creativity. My siblings remain bathed in wonder to me. I’ll never stop trying to earn my place among them. I have come to believe their exploits were, in fact, so many acts of God, and I believe our birthright—yours, mine, and everyone’s—is to radiate and create. MythBlast authored by: Joanna Gardner, PhD , is a writer, mythologist, and magical realist whose research and teaching focus on creativity, goddesses, and wonder tales. Joanna serves as director of marketing and communications for the Joseph Campbell Foundation and is the lead author of the Foundation's book Goddesses: A Skeleton Key Study Guide .  She is also an adjunct professor in Pacifica Graduate Institute’s Mythological Studies program, and a co-founder of the Fates and Graces , hosting webinars and workshops for mythic readers and writers. To read Joanna's blog and additional publications, you are most cordially invited to visit her website at joannagardner.com . This MythBlast was inspired by  The Power of Myth  Episode 6, and The Hero's Journey Latest Podcast Pathways Bonus: The Psychological Basis of Freedom Q&A In this bonus Q&A episode, Campbell answers questions about the nature of freedom, the origins of religion, following one's bliss, living out of one's center, and aesthetic arrest. It is taken from the Q&A session after his lecture, "The Psychological Basis of Freedom", recorded at Bennett College in North Carolina in 1970. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "Just as anyone who listens to the muse will hear, you can write out of your own intention or out of inspiration. There is such a thing. It comes up and talks. And those who have heard deeply the rhythms and hymns of the gods, the words of the gods, can recite those hymns in such a way the gods will be attracted." -- Joseph Campbell The Hero’s Journey, 147 Kundalini Yoga - The God Syllable "AUM" (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

The theme for the MythBlast Series this month is The Message of the Myth: Art and Artists, so I’d like to take a look at transforming emotion into art, particularly those emotions we are reluctant to express or even acknowledge to ourselves, let alone to others. So let me first say this as unambiguously as I can, if you’re struggling with depression, reach out to your doctor, to a therapist, to a loved one who can support you to find the right treatment for your depression. What I want to explore in this essay is what Sigmund Freud understood as common unhappiness; Fernando Pessoa called it disquiet; William Wordsworth heard the still, sad music of humanity. In his 1895 book, Studies on Hysteria, Freud wrote this: When I have promised my patients help or improvement by means of a cathartic treatment I have often been faced by this objection: “Why, you tell me yourself that my illness is probably connected with my circumstances and the events of my life. You cannot alter these in any way. How do you propose to help me, then?” And I have been able to make this reply: “No doubt fate would find it easier than I do to relieve you of your illness. But you will be able to convince yourself that much will be gained if we succeed in transforming your hysterical misery into common unhappiness. With a mental life that has been restored to health you will be better armed against that unhappiness.” ( Studies on Hysteria , Vol. 2, 270) Transforming hysterical misery into common unhappiness is no small thing. What Freud called hysterical misery is a defensive response to the awareness, conscious or not, that there is so much life one cannot even begin to live it all. For the hysteric, life has become cumbersome, incomprehensible, and in some curious way, unspeakable; it’s impossible to talk about. The unwillingness to accept life on its own terms creates the intense psychological suffering Freud describes. Transforming such abject misery, becoming “better armed against that unhappiness” may be hard to imagine, but such a transformation is where the art comes in. In King Lear , Shakespeare tells us that “When we are born, we cry that we have come to this great stage of fools” (Scene IV, Act 6). We cry because we have indeed come into this world of fools, and ourselves not least among them; we cry because we have won the role of a human being in the great play of life, and whether it is a tragedy or a farce is, it seems to me, entirely up to us. Art as epiphany In his late work “Art as Revelation,” a section in his unfinished magnum opus The Historical Atlas of World Mythology, Campbell discusses the effects of “proper art” upon the individual: “One is held, on the contrary, in aesthetic arrest, a moment of sensational (aesthetic) contemplation, as before a recognized revelation, or in Joyce’s language, an ‘epiphany’” (p. 19). The key then, as I see it, is to approach our lives, all of our experiences no matter how prosaic or chaotic, all our fears, our griefs, our pain, as well our joys, as we would approach a great work of art. Théodore Gericault’s painting, The Raft of Medusa , hangs in the Louvre Museum, and I admit I lingered looking at this painting for the better part of a morning. The Mona Lisa hangs in a room not far away, and laying eyes upon her requires patience, as great crowds fill the accordion-like rope lines in the room, cameras at the ready, straining to get a glimpse of this legendary woman before the allotted fifteen seconds or so of viewing time are up and docents move you along. She is beautiful enough, certainly, but she’s not the best painting in the museum; I don’t think she’s even the best Davinci in the Louvre, and like certain reality TV stars, she’s famous mostly for being famous, and no particular epiphany occurred from my encounter with her. But that’s not the case with Gericault’s masterpiece, the epiphany accompanying it virtually reaches out and seizes one by the throat. First, it’s immense, at 16 feet by 23 feet, its figures are life-size, and the figures in the foreground are more than life-size. Because of its enormity, the detail the artist renders is astonishing; the fear, despair, starvation and suffering are viscerally recognizable, etched onto the life sized-faces of the literally overwhelmed, desperate, ship-wrecked survivors clinging to a makeshift raft, while the two men attending the dead reflect a dejected futility. Looking at this painting I immediately understood Joyce’s remarks about epiphany, gripped as I was by a profound, involuntary sense of pity. James Joyce's theory of art In Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man , Joyce lays out his theory of art: “Pity is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of whatsoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with the human sufferer” (Chapter 5). Pity is not an emotion of implicit superiority of the kind which Mr. T referenced when he uttered his catch phrase, “I pity the fool…” Rather, pity is a sympathetic sorrow evoked by the suffering of others. Pity is compassion, pity is empathy, pity is pathos—literally, what befalls one—that projects the observer into the world the art portrays. The Raft of Medusa certainly invites both pity and pathos—not just for the poor survivors on the raft who, by the way, apparently still hold out hope for rescue and try desperately to get the attention of some distant passing ship. One is moved to pity for the fact of human suffering itself, something each of us knows all too well in our own secret ways, precisely because we have come to this great stage of fools. Joyce further proposes that “Terror is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of whatsoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with the secret cause” ( Ibid ). The secret cause is one’s own fate, one’s own life exactly as one has lived it; the secret cause is ultimately one’s own death: cold, impassive, mortality. To experience the rapture of life we must consciously and intentionally move beyond the personalization of the epiphany, of which would be pity, to the universal human truth, the terror of the realization that we are mortal and we will die. That is the familiar psychic territory in which we encounter terror. If we are able to encounter the terror of our own mortality the same way we encounter “proper art” that terrifies, if we regard the circumstances of our lives as art (as though we ourselves were the pitiable crew of the Medusa), we elicit the sublime epiphany that reconciles us with our own mortality, as well as the circumstances of our own lives exactly as they are. We make the surprising discovery that this life we live, life with all its abundant sufferings and barely sufficient joys, is heart-breakingly beautiful. If we are able to encounter the terror of our own mortality the same way we encounter “proper art” that terrifies, we elicit the sublime epiphany that reconciles us with our own mortality. Epiphanies are not states of being; we can’t occupy the sublime for very long at all until we’re thrown back into the problems of living. We return to them, not with dread nor with hysterical misery, but with that recurring melody of the still, sad, music of life playing in the background, evoking the vaguely dissatisfied, bittersweet sense of common unhappiness. Acknowledging the common unhappiness of life has a salutary, restorative effect when we find ourselves in the grip of the pain of living. Pierrot knows as much by the end of the 1965 Jean-Luc Godard film, Pierrot Le Fou and reflects, rather wistfully, “Life is sometimes sad, but it’s always beautiful.” Beauty is the aesthetic epiphany Joyce refers to, and it functions as a homeopathic remedy for the pain of living; it’s the healing alchemy of like curing like. Beauty, because it is always too fleeting, because each encounter with it is thoroughly novel and personally reconfiguring, creates an aesthetic seizure that works on us consciously to a degree, but much more so unconsciously. What seizes us at first is a barely perceptible sensation of intimate strangeness, the paradoxical disclosure of terrible beauty adorning all life, the full realization of which depends more on mythos than logos . It is a potentially life changing validation of the perplexing nonpareil, the uncommon common life. To feel beauty we must be willing to feel pity and pain, even terror. No pity, no terror, no beauty. For those willing to welcome beauty and its occasionally troublesome collaborators, life holds no misery. In a world that so often exposes us to catastrophes and terrible suffering, common unhappiness is an uncommon achievement. If you have suicidal or other thoughts of self-harm, please reach out to professionals for help, or call 988, which is now the three-digit dialing code that routes callers to the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. Thanks for reading. MythBlast authored by: Bradley Olson, Ph.D .  is an author, speaker, and a psychotherapist. He serves as the Publications Director for the Joseph Campbell Foundation, as well as the Editor of the MythBlast Series and the host of JCF's flagship podcast, Pathways With Joseph Campbell . Dr. Olsonholds a Ph.D. in Mythological Studies from Pacifica Graduate Institute. Dr. OIson is also a depth psychologist in private practice in Flagstaff, Arizona, where he has lived since 1995. Dr. Olson has graduate degrees in psychology from the University of Oklahoma. Dr. Olson offers mythic life coaching at What's Mything in Your Life ( bradleyolsonphd.com ). This MythBlast was inspired by  The Power of Myth  Episode 2, and Pathways to Bliss Latest Podcast Dr. Reedy has a Ph.D. in Marriage and Family Therapy. Brad has broadcast over 1,300 webinars on parenting since 2007, and hosts the podcast “Finding You” He is also the author of two books on parenting and self-discovery: The Journey of the Heroic Parent and The Audacity to Be You. Brad has developed an accessible and liberating approach to adolescents, young adults, and their parents. His powerful ability to use his own story and stories from the thousands of families he has treated, offers hope to families suffering from mental health, addiction, and stage-of-life issues. Brad is a co-founder and the Executive Clinical Director of Evoke Therapy Programs, which provides therapeutic services for adolescents, young adults, parents, families, and individuals looking to gain greater intimacy in their relationships. In the conversation, he and John Bucher of the Joseph Campbell Foundation, talk about Brad’s life and work, storytelling and its role in a therapeutic setting, how myths can be used in parenting, and how Campbell’s work has been an important guide in Brad’s life. Listen Here This Week's Highlights I think of mythology as the homeland of the muses, the inspirers of art, the inspirers of poetry. To see life as a poem and yourself participating in a poem is what the myth does for you. -- Joseph Campbell Joseph Campbell and the Power of Myth, with Bill Moyers, 6 Hell & Transcendence Q&A (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter