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Ex Machina  (2015) A24, Universal Pictures I have seldom met a mythologist who didn’t have a well-rehearsed elevator pitch on the nature of Jungian archetypes. Here’s mine. It’s like a box of chocolates, See’s in particular. Once the classic Milk Butterchews, Salted Caramel, and California Brittle are gone, what’s left? Just a little sheet of molded plastic with indentations for each famous treat, tiny coffers of sweet possibility. These represent for me the Platonic ideals, Bastian’s elementary ideas, and Jung’s archetypes. Sure, you can fiddle with the recipe, vary the sugar content, add more or less sprinkles on top, perhaps tweak the cinnamon or hold up on the corn syrup, but the perduring forms remain unvaried for all eternity. To review, the nature of the archetypes is like a box of chocolates. And the flavor of the month is the Seeker. As a writer, I have learned to love the Seeker as a driver of story. Want a writing tip for free? I got this from my father, also a writer. He said, though in different terminology, make the Seeker your star, and watch who else shows up. That’s the secret to this archetype. Gods and archetypes, as James Hillman loved to point out, never show up alone but in groups and, when the occasion arises, assemble the pantheon from which they rule the universe. The seeker is an unconscious curator of other archetypes. Usually uninteresting in themselves (with exceptions), Seekers are natural born pilgrims lapping the miles, often heedless of where the road is taking them. There is often an emptiness in Seekers, and so they look for fulfilment and identity in others. Thus, Parsifal finds his roundtable, Dorothy her three-man posse of misfits, Ishmael his doomed crewmates, and Luke Skywalker his phalanx of sages and warriors some of whom are character archetypes without benefit of being human (R2-D2 comes to mind). The Seeker is the writer’s friend and leads us to the whole box of chocolates. Silicon Valhalla The protagonist of Alex Garland’s film Ex Machina is a “hero” in the literary tradition of Melville’s Ishmael—he is our eyes and ears to a world from which we would be otherwise excluded. His function in life—and in literature—is to be a tabula rasa, an analytic blank to be filled in with all sorts of impressions from much more fascinating, complicated, intimidating characters, all of them with a legit claim to archetype status (which, in Moby Dick , include Ishmael as The Seeker, Ahab, as both Seeker and Leader, Queequeg the Wise Man, the Pequod itself as Death, and Moby—the Destroyer). Caleb Smith (Domhnall Gleeson), the Ishmael of Ex Machina , is on a professional journey. He has made the same vocational choice as many young people these days, to go to Silicon Valley where he will eventually be recognized as a talented software developer in his own right. It would appear at the outset of the picture that his efforts have paid off. He has won an in-house contest entitling him to a fabulous week at the private home of the company founder, Nathan Bateman (Oscar Isaac), who is seldom seen beyond the remote mountain retreat where his ethically questionable experiments in human consciousness take place. As Caleb looks out from his helicopter window to the endless acres of snow-flocked conifers below, he asks how long it will take to get to Nathan Bateman’s estate. “We’ve been flying over his estate for the last two hours,” grins the pilot. We are in the abode of the gods. Men seeking archetypes Recall, in my take on the Seeker, he or she is a node of generativity more than a person. Bland in his own right, Caleb Smith conjures about him a polymorphic display of personality types, each driving the story by virtue of a unique subplot. The Threshold Guardian is the helicopter pilot, easily recognizable as a contemporary iteration of big-shouldered Charon. The implacable oarsman ferrying souls to the underworld never appeared more benign. Caleb treads dangerous ground in approaching the Creator, his employer Nathan, because like all relationships of unequal power, it is a dangerous liaison. I recognize the outline of a Zeus/Semele dynamic, which must end badly. Recall, Semele was burnt to a cinder because her mortal eyes were overwhelmed by proximity to unfiltered divinity. Nathan may see himself as God, but he is really a sort of Ahab for the ones-and-zeros crowd, perhaps not unlike a lot of us who occasionally see ourselves as masters of the universe. And then there is Ava. I must assume it’s a nickname, short for Avatar (which in Sanskrit means “descent,” as in the descent of a deity incarnated among mortals), identifying her as that most exalted of archetypes, the Goddess. Ava is graceful, inquisitive, physically powerful and beautiful. She is also a machine, the eponymous machina of the film’s title, designed by Nathan to embody all that a man might perceive as “feminine.” What unites the trio of archetypes–Seeker, Creator, Goddess–is in itself a quest, the Anima Quest, perhaps the most famous motivational force undergirding the spiritus mundi . The seeker is an unconscious curator of other archetypes.  Designing women The first woman ever designed by men was Eve; known for having sold us out as a species, she was, like Ava in Garland’s cult masterpiece, supposed to be an ideal companion. Though it did not work out well—for anybody—men have been designing women ever since: Daedalus, the sculptor of Pygmalion, or his 20th-century iteration, Professor Henry Higgins in George Bernard Shaw’s 1910 theatrical hit, Pygmalion , reprised decades later as My Fair Lady ; Dr. Niander Wallace, the sociopath CEO of Wallace Industries in Blade Runner , whose female automata has learned a new trick—it can sexually reproduce; Victor Frankenstein, whose female monster never really made it out of Beta. Anyway, the result of these experiments is usually disappointing, because the one ingredient the designers hold back is the one women seem to want the most. Autonomy. And then there’s Homer. I’ll start this singing with That grand goddess, Bright-eyes, So shrewd, Her heart inexorable, As virgin, redoubtable, Protectress of cities, Powerful, Tritogene, Whom shrewd Zeus himself Produced out of his sacred head… The Homeric Hymns trans. Boer 137-38 The “Birth of Athena” is an obstetrical nightmare. Is it really about a female archetype? Put another way, has Athena ever really been an adequate symbol of female actualization? She certainly meets Campbell’s criteria for the Goddess in that she is transformative of the male. Boy to Man, Man to Warrior, Warrior to Hero. Ava transforms Caleb into the Lover and the Big Boss; Nathan, into a corpse. But isn’t the whole yarn really about the guy with the splitting headache, the guy trying to even imagine how a fully actualized female human psyche might appear? Recall, Zeus turned Athena’s mother (Metis) into a fly, swallowed her whole so that she could not bear the male child destined to overthrow him. Guess what? The fly is pregnant. And therefore, in a sense, so is Zeus. My own read on the “birth of Athena” from her father’s head has always been that it is a composite image meant to register the fragility of the male psyche in its contemplation of woman as equal. How relevant. Is not the fragility of the male psyche on full display in our national failure (twice) to elect a woman president? For some men, even to imagine a woman of equal or greater influence is painful, sort of like having your skull split open by an axe. Ava is Nathan’s baby, born from the womb of his mind. She may or may not be a fully conscious entity capable of self-awareness. She is, shall we say, unburdened by notions of binary reality, the kind that draws distinctions between self-defense and, well, murder. But, not counting her homicidal tendencies, she is certainly attractive. After all, as Jane Harrison points out, "All men, in virtue of their humanity, are image-makers, but in some the image is clear and vivid, in others dull, lifeless, wavering. The Greeks were the supreme ikonists, the greatest image-makers the world has ever seen, and, therefore, their mythology lives on to-day” ( Myths of Greece and Rome 11). Thanks to our wide-eyed Seeker, we have realized there is a new shape in the chocolate box. A new female archetype yearns to be born and threatens to be a transitional stage between human and machine. Her attributes shall be many, but surely among them is the ability to decapitate a Trojan with one hand while making decorative orange slices with the other. MythBlast authored by: John Bonaduce, PhD , a seasoned writer for Norman Lear and for most of the major Hollywood studios (Fox, Paramount, Warner Bros, et al.) developed a profound interest in story structure beyond the commercial objectives of the industry. His exploration led him to conclude that much of what we call myth derives from a biological origin. This insight inspired his pursuit of deeper relationships between biology and narrative through his theory of Mythobiogenesis, which he explored in his dissertation at Pacifica Graduate Institute and was recognized as a “discovery” in the field of prenatal psychology by Dr. Thomas Verny. John was recently appointed to the editorial board of the Journal of Prenatal and Perinatal Psychology and Health (JOPPPAH) where he advocates for an unrecognized level of human consciousness which exists at the border of biology and mythology. As a featured writer for the Joseph Campbell Foundation’s MythBlast, he passionately showcases Joseph Campbell’s enduring relevance to a modern audience. This MythBlast was inspired by Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine and the archetype of The Seeker. Latest Podcast Francis Weller has spent his life restoring the sacred work of grief and deepening our connection to the soul. A psychotherapist, writer, and soul activist, Francis weaves together psychology, mythology, alchemy, and indigenous wisdom to show us how grief is not just personal but profoundly communal. His bestselling book, The Wild Edge of Sorrow, has guided thousands in embracing loss as a path to renewal. Through his organization, WisdomBridge, and his work with the Commonweal Cancer Help Program, Francis helps others navigate sorrow with ritual, story, and deep remembrance. In this conversation, we explore how grief can serve as an initiation into a richer, more connected life—and why reclaiming lost rituals of mourning is essential to healing both ourselves and the world. For more information about Francis, visit: https://www.francisweller.net/ Listen Here This Week's Highlights "As I see it, the quest of Odysseus is to return home, decently, to Penelope, his wife—not to a blonde, not to someone who is the victim and the booty of war, but to his wife. A wife is someone with whom one is in counterplay as the other side of the mystery of the androgyne, and so Odysseus has to be debriefed from his warrior attitude, where there is no idea of dialogue between the male and female powers." -- Joseph Campbell Goddesses , 160 The Ego and the Tao See More Videos Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

Elizabeth (1998) Gramercy Pictures There are films that depict history, and there are films that distill it into myth. Shekhar Kapur’s Elizabeth  (1998) is one such mythic work, not because it meticulously tracks the political maneuvers of the Tudor court, but because it translates the life of Queen Elizabeth I (r. 1558–1603) into a sacred rite of passage. The film therefore moves beyond biography and becomes the chronicle of a soul initiation.   At the story’s center is Cate Blanchett’s luminous embodiment of a woman who ceases to be mortal and evolves into something else entirely: a vessel, a vision, an archetype, a mythic sovereign. Here Elizabeth is not merely a political figure–her psyche undergoes a profound metamorphosis and her body is the alchemical crucible. In the film we observe her no longer belonging to herself during her reign, but belonging to history, and to the symbolism of iconography. Elizabeth develops into a representative interface between the divine feminine and the temporal world, the spirit and the sovereign state. And in Blanchett’s hands, we experience the queen as no mere ruler. Instead she transforms into a living mythos. There is something so otherworldly about Blanchett’s performance. Director Kapur remembers , “The moment I saw her, I knew I had found my perfect Elizabeth.” Her performance exists in a liminal space outside of time because she doesn’t simply act as Elizabeth; she becomes a conduit for her spiritual majesty to be felt. Then, now, and for the future.  The maiden and the threshold  In the film’s opening sequences, Elizabeth Tudor is not yet the triumphant Virgin Queen that we recognize from the iconic Armada portrait commemorating the English victory over the Spanish Armada in 1588. However, we do get to view her as a vivacious, instinctual, tender, young woman of the court. She is the archetypal maiden: free-spirited, intuitive and impulsive, but until now, unformed as a sovereign being. She dances barefoot in the garden, kisses her lover in secret, and challenges her advisors with youthful defiance.  The film makes no attempt to rush Elizabeth’s coronation because political authority alone fails to define her form of queenship to the throne. Instead what unfolds is the slow shedding of the personal self through many years of hardships and challenges. These start with Elizabeth being only two years and eight months old when her mother, Anne Boleyn, is beheaded, and continue with her being announced illegitimate by her father, King Henry VIII. She is then held under house arrest, and further obstacles include: being imprisoned in the Tower of London, reconciling her gender and the jurisdiction of her rule, getting constantly attacked by religious factions, being excommunicated by Pope Pius V, constantly undermined and betrayed by courtly rivals, and manipulated and deceived by the man she loves.  The alchemy of the self Blanchett’s Elizabeth is far more than a character growing in confidence; she is an expanding presence who is being forged in the fire of the tempestuous politics and courtly dramas of her time. She is the maiden crossing into her queenhood, Psyche navigating betrayal, Inanna descending into the underworld, and Artemis (equated with the Roman goddess Diana) severing ties to love in service of a greater destiny.  The betrayal by Lord Robert Dudley–the man she trusted, desired, and nearly married–is not just a personal heartbreak; it is the figurative death of any possibility for a private life. When she discovers his marriage, her maidenhood fractures, and in the ruins of that fracture, the latent, archetypal queen awakens. Elizabeth isolates herself in her chambers with her ladies-in-waiting to craft her now immortalized image: the public persona of a chaste, unmarried, divinely appointed, Protestant monarch. Her declaration of the words “I have become a virgin” mark this climactic transfiguration not by chastity, but by consecration. This virginity is not of the body; it is of the soul, and of the spirit. While she is untouched by men, she is now untouchable by earthly life too. She has channeled the personal to be in service of the mythic. Blanchett moves differently in these final scenes. As the Virgin Queen she no longer walks; she glides. Her voice lowers and drops into stillness. Her gaze steadies and no more flickers with doubt. Her body becomes a monument and a defiant emblem of sacrifice and virtue. She is not playing the queen. She is  the queen, who now also looks like the Virgin Mary–an enlightened being–firm in her righteous place of purity and absolute power. This holy pattern descends, penetrates and inhabits her, and she crosses the threshold from flesh to symbol. The sacred marriage When Elizabeth emerges reborn as an icon of divinity, her stark face is covered in deadly makeup: Venetian ceruse (also known as ‘spirits of Saturn’)–a poisonous, white, lead-based makeup to present a mask of youth and to hide the scarring from smallpox–pupils dilated with belladonna eye drops to appear more attractive, and on her lips cinnabar-based vermilion–a toxic mineral containing mercury–believed to ward off evil spirits. Her jewel-encrusted, flame-red wig crowns her head like a halo. “Observe, Lord Burghley, I am married ... to England,” she proclaims. She has chosen the transcendent over the mortal, for the queen is not merely Elizabeth; she is now England itself. This was a brilliant political maneuver, but more than that, it was a sacrosanct vow. By renouncing personal marriage, she wed herself to her country and the symbolic role of the Queen of Heaven, who is full of grace and the mother of her people. And by appropriating Marian imagery and attributes in her portraits (iconoclasm forbade sacred images), Elizabeth superseded the Virgin Mary’s image with her own. She has chosen the transcendent over the mortal, for the queen is not merely Elizabeth; she is now England itself. The mythic sovereign “I have rid England of her enemies,” Elizabeth whispers with quiet desolation. “What do I do now? Am I to be made of stone? Must I be touched by nothing?” This is the sacrifice of wearing the Crown, because the monarch does not merely rule, she must also contain–contain the tension of the many opposites within the collective psyche and all the associated chaos and turmoil–without herself ever coming undone. Hers is no longer a life lived for self-expression, but for the stewardship of both celestial and material realms.  Elizabeth becomes, quite literally, the body politic. Her body is not hers because it is the insignia of an incarnate ideal. In the ancient world, a sovereign ruler was not considered a mere administrator, but rather, the axis mundi: the living center of the state’s health, vitality, and divine favor. So Queen Elizabeth I is not simply a woman in power and a great patron of the arts (William Shakespeare’s most productive period coincided with the Elizabethan era); she is simultaneously an eternal representation of the sacred as England’s Grail-bearer, priestess and protector.  Beyond the mask Joseph Campbell wrote that “to become – in Jung’s terms – individuated, to live as a released individual, one has to know how and when to put on and to put off the masks of one’s various life roles” ( Myths to Live By , 67). As an ordinary woman, Elizabeth’s private emotions were suppressed. Her love, renounced. As monarch, her will sanctified. Yet as the carefully curated image in portraits, the cult of Gloriana– an immortal goddess sworn to protect a nation –she was exalted to a mythical status and the symbol of England’s cultural renaissance and Golden Age.  Elizabeth’s story, as rendered by Blanchett and Kapur, is not merely the depiction of a solitary, female ruler in a patriarchal world. It is a tale of the highest form of sovereignty: the long road from self-doubt to sacred stewardship to become a vessel for something larger than her everyday self. In this day and age where power is so often confused with domination and leadership styles with tragic, thespian performances, Elizabeth’s marriage to more elevated ideals calls us back to our souls. She is the fortitude after betrayal, the calm at the center of all that is temporal, and with a gaze that sees through the personality into its divine purpose. The life and reign of Queen Elizabeth I serves to remind us that the truest form of power is not in ruling others, but in securing authority over ourselves.  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 Hero With a Thousand Faces and the archetype of The Sovereign. Latest Podcast In this episode of The Podcast With a Thousand Faces, we’re joined by Maureen Murdock - author, psychotherapist, educator, and a groundbreaking voice in the world of myth and memoir. Maureen is best known for her influential book The Heroine’s Journey: Woman’s Quest for Wholeness, written in response to Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Maureen had a personal and professional relationship with Campbell and it was through their dialogue that her vision of the feminine mythic path began to take shape. Her newest work, Mythmaking: Self-Discovery and the Timeless Art of Memoir, invites us to explore how our personal stories echo ancient archetypes and how writing can become a transformative act of reclaiming the self. In this conversation with host John Bucher, we explore the evolution of the heroine’s journey, Maureen’s reflections on Campbell’s legacy, and how myth and memoir together can help us find meaning in the chaos of change. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "To become – in Jung’s terms – individuated, to live as a released individual, one has to know how and when to put on and to put off the masks of one’s various life roles." -- Joseph Campbell Myths to Live By, 67 On Consciousness See More Videos Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

George Nolfi's The Adjustment Bureau © Universal Pictures My favorite films are all about strangers, friends, and near-miss lovers meeting and the story of their entwining destinies: Sliding Doors , A bout Time , One Day , Cloud Atlas , The Fountain , Groundhog Day , and The Adjustment Bureau . Need I go on? They’ve deeply shaped my perception of the world I want to live in. But why? Because in these films we’re in the realm of The Moirai (The Fates). They’re the ones with the hands on the steering wheel of our lives. But what does it take for us to wrestle back control? And is that even possible? The theme for this month’s MythBlasts is The Lover archetype at the movies, so I want to explore how the lovers in The Adjustment Bureau   transform their fate and rewrite their destiny. [For the purposes of this article, I’ll be defining fate  as something imposed on us–a predetermined set of circumstances, while destiny  is a path that we actively shape through our conscious choices and actions.] *The following content contains spoilers. The Adjustment Bureau The movie (released in 2011) is loosely based on Philip K. Dick’s 1954 short story “Adjustment Team.” Google’s synopsis reads: “Just as he is on the brink of winning a Senate seat, politician David Norris (Matt Damon) meets a ballerina named Elise Sellas (Emily Blunt). Though David is instantly smitten, mysterious men conspire to keep him away from the beautiful dancer. David learns that he is facing the powerful agents of Fate itself, and glimpsing the future laid out for him, must either accept a predetermined path that does not include Elise or else defy Fate to be with her.” The Adjustment Bureau (representing a Higher Power) has a “plan” for every individual, suggesting a predetermined course of events. Every human has a case officer and David’s agent, Harry (Anthony Mackie), has been with him since birth assisting him to reach his potential. According to the plan created for him by “The Chairman,” David is to be President of The United States, but the Bureau staff are worried that if he falls in love with Elise, he’ll lose all his political ambition. She was only needed to enter his life at a particular moment to inspire him, and then they were never meant to meet again. Three years later though, Harry misses a crucial “adjustment” for David, which leads him to unexpectedly see Elise again.  In the film, the powers of the agents (“angels”) of The Chairman (“God”) are vast but limited. Their job is to subtly adjust, nudge, and encourage the direction the Bureau has determined for each human within the grander scheme of life. But now that David has “by chance” crossed paths with Elise again, he refuses to let her go. This has alerted Thompson (Terence Stamp), a high-ranking agent who oversees the fate adjustments of lower-ranking agents like Harry.  Amor fati : loving your fate Portraying the ever-present tension between fate and destiny, the film asks us to consider if it’s even possible to outrun our fate with our free will. Joseph Campbell writes in A Joseph Campbell Companion: Reflections on the Art of Living :  At a certain moment in [Nietzsche’s] life, the idea came to him of what he called “the love of your fate.” Whatever your fate is, whatever the hell happens, you say, “This is what I need.” It may look like a wreck, but go at it as though it were an opportunity, a challenge. If you bring love to that moment–not discouragement–you will find the strength is there. Any disaster you can survive is an improvement in your character, your stature, and your life. What a privilege! This is when the spontaneity of your own nature will have a chance to flow. (38) The heart wants what it wants David certainly brings love to his challenge of choosing Elise, so that the spontaneity of his own nature flows as he literally petitions God to intervene on his behalf. He sides with love over any career aspirations. And we all know that choosing love always drastically alters one’s life plans, whether it’s the love we have for another person, or the love we hold for a country, artistic skill, or ideal. To again emphasize what Campbell expresses, choosing love allows strength to be found in moments that look like a complete and utter wreck. And that love brought to a disaster will immeasurably improve our character, stature, and life. David asks Thompson, “If I’m not supposed to be with [Elise], then why do I feel like this?” The agent responds, “It doesn’t matter how you feel, what matters is in black and white.” So is it that we’re too controlled by our feelings, and that’s why we need a higher force to step in and adjust our lives? The interplay between logic and emotion is central here–only by being denied Elise does David realize, on a much deeper level, that she is his true destiny. The heart wants what it wants, and isn’t love often deemed an illogical choice?  The heart wants what it wants, and isn’t love often deemed an illogical choice?  The power of invisible forces Let’s for a moment turn the focus onto ourselves. How often has our future been adjusted without our awareness? Are we in touch with our angel who is always invisibly guiding us? Do we have a sense of The Chairman’s plan for our life? And if so, have we willingly aligned with it? Or have we accessed the inner freedom required to co-create a different plan? We most often invoke destiny when we refuse to be fated by our fears, recognizing that obstacles don’t control fate; they’re merely its agent. While external factors (like the Bureau’s plans) do indeed influence choices, individuals ultimately possess the agency to break free from these constraints. Philosophically, this reflects compatibilism–the belief that fate and free will are not opposing forces, but interwoven. We might be shaped by genetics, environmental and societal structures (and the like), but within these bounds we still make choices. The role of choice is pivotal in defining who we are because it allows us to affirm or defy the influences acting on us, showcasing our agency. And like David declares, “All I have are the choices I make, and I choose her, come what may.”                            The right to free will  David and Elise change their plans by refusing to conform to what was laid out for them by The Chairman. They display and embody courage, persistence, and an unwavering belief in their love, even when faced with seemingly insurmountable odds. To defy a predetermined plan requires recognizing your more noble desires, acting on them with utmost resolve, and being willing to face obstacles and risks for what matters most to you. And fighting for the right to free will is one of the most profound battles of all.                                                                     The Adjustment Bureau is a beautiful reminder that plans can be rewritten when humans exercise their free will if  done with enough conviction. This is because free will isn’t really free if it isn’t fought for. And so the film is less about The Chairman’s plan for David and Elise, but rather the bountiful love and inner exertion with which they engage the plan. In this way, The Lover archetype awakens and transforms their struggle into a rich exploration of fate and destiny, and the very meaning of love and life itself. On that note, I’ll leave you with the final lines that Harry says to David:   Most people live life on the path we set for them, too afraid to explore any other. But once in a while people like you come along who knock down all the obstacles we put in your way. People who realize free will is a gift that you’ll never know how to use until you fight for it. I think that’s The Chairman’s real plan. That maybe one day, we won’t write the plan, you will. 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 Creative Mythology and the archetype of The Lover . Latest Podcast Crispin Freeman is a renowned voice actor, director, and storyteller whose career has left a mark on the worlds of anime, video games, and animation. Beginning his journey as a theater actor in New York City, Freeman transitioned to voice acting in 1997 and quickly became a prominent figure in English-language dubs of Japanese anime. His performances have brought to life a wide range of complex and memorable characters, captivating audiences around the globe. In the conversation, JCF’s John Bucher joins Crispin to explore Crispin’s life and work, the history of animated storytelling in both the East and West, its connection to mythology, and the ways Joseph Campbell’s influence is woven into it all. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "Fate is a dimension that is not of your person. It’s transpersonal. You open up to something that is deeper than your own personal notion of yourself. Even though it’s you, it’s beyond what you know of yourself. It’s experience that’s coming to you." -- Joseph Campbell Myth and Meaning , 215 Kundalini Yoga: Solar & Lunar Energy Pathways (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

The Lost King (2022) Warner Brothers Pictures The film The Lost King  (2022) tells the fictionalized story of a real woman who, inspired by Shakespeare’s fictionalized play Richard III , successfully led the discovery of the real remains of King Richard III of England. Although the movie includes no literal, living kings or queens, it revolves around the archetype of the Sovereign in the form of the historical Richard (Harry Lloyd) and an utterly charming, modern-day apparition of him visible only to the protagonist, Philippa (Sally Hawkins). But wait: Who is the Sovereign? For most of its history, the noun “sovereign” referred to someone who has power over others, such as political rulers, religious leaders, and even God, indicating the divine dimension of sovereignty. In 1783, however, a new definition came into being: “A citizen of the United States of America, considered after independence from Britain as having supreme authority in place of the monarch” (“Sovereign, N., Sense I.2.c.” Oxford English Dictionary, Oxford UP, June 2025, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/5717858291 ). In creating a new country, the nation’s founders brought the archetype of the Sovereign down from on high. Sovereignty became accessible, if not yet to all, to many more than it was before. Through the image of Richard, who was once a king over others but now serves as a metaphor for Philippa’s inner authority, The Lost King  combines these two meanings of sovereignty, inner and outer, the same way it combines history and fiction to make something far more than the sum of its parts. Something mythic. The inner Sovereign’s jobs include making decisions for the short and long term, charting a course to help the realm blossom and thrive, and figuring out how to deliver on the soul’s goals. The Sovereign forms and dissolves alliances with other equal Sovereigns, managing borders and boundaries with wisdom and compassion. The Sovereign appears When The Lost King  begins, Philippa’s sense of personal sovereignty lies in tatters. Perpetually dismissed and devalued, she struggles with a chronic illness that consumes her energy. Her boss lies about her behind her back and passes her over for promotion. Her marriage has ended, and her two young sons alternately ignore her and regard her with dubious concern. Richard’s sovereignty is similarly damaged. Painted as a usurper and hunchback through centuries of propaganda, this former king of England was reduced to a footnote of evil in the historical record. But when Philippa attends a performance of Shakespeare’s play, she relates with Richard. She sees him as unjustly reviled due to physical differences that others fear and don’t understand. She suspects he wasn’t as awful as the play makes him out to be. And then something wonderful happens. Richard begins appearing to Philippa. As she goes about her daily routines, she sees the long-dead king as though in the flesh—as though alive—again and again. But this Richard is no sniveling villain. His features match the Richard in the play, but Philippa’s Richard stands straight and tall wearing a silken red tunic, robes lined with fur, black leather boots, and most of all, a golden crown. He embodies Philippa’s image of her inner sovereignty. Quiet and confident, Philippa’s Richard listens to her, makes eye contact with her, often with a wry, compassionate smile. At first, she sees him outside through windows when she’s indoors, suggesting his attributes are distant from hers. Before long, he appears indoors as well—her inner Sovereign has drawn closer. Then he speaks, and her personal sovereignty gains a voice. The inward quest for sovereignty Electrified by Richard’s presence in her life, Philippa sets off to find the physical remains of this maligned sovereign. At last, after her final confrontation with the archeologist she hired to lead the search for Richard’s resting place, when she refuses to be dismissed and instead insists on where she wants the work to focus, she goes for a walk to unwind. Richard appears to her again, this time riding a white steed and urging her to follow him back to site. Her sovereignty is now her guide, leading her from its full power. Sure enough, the team has found Richard’s bones under the asphalt crust of a paved parking lot that held him underground, held him in the underworld, for five long centuries. Philippa, similarly, did the deep work required to accomplish her quest. She demonstrates the two levels of the hero’s adventure Joseph Campbell describes: “The passage of the mythological hero may be over-ground, incidentally; fundamentally it is inward—into depths where obscure resistances are overcome, and long lost, forgotten powers are revivified” ( The Hero with a Thousand Faces , 22). Murky resistances, bested. Forgotten powers, brought back to life. These are the exact fruits of Philippa’s journey of connecting with and reclaiming her inner Sovereign. The Lost King  is about royalty and therefore sovereignty, but its only king is a figment of the imagination, like a recurring waking dream. Philippa’s psyche obligingly provides her with the image she needs to recover her dignity. And so, as she searches for Richard’s remains, she steps into her own strength, determination, passion, and courage. Together, she and Richard travel the soul’s road from dishonor and disrespect to honor and value.  The Sovereign is an image of your best self The Sovereign is the archetype of dignity, discernment, boldness, and respect for self and others. Sovereignty enables right action, right livelihood, and right relationship while protecting and providing for the inner realm. To relate with your inner Sovereign is neither to deny nor glorify these energies but instead to honor their capacities as the gifts of one archetype among many, the same way that in a nation of sovereign souls, each contributes their equal and unique powers to the flourishing of the whole.  Sovereignty enables right action, right livelihood, and right relationship while protecting and providing for the inner realm.  MythBlast authored by: Joanna Gardner, PhD , is a writer, mythologist, and magical realist focusing on creativity, goddesses, and wonder tales. She is the author of The Practice of Enchantment: MythBlast Essays, 2020-2024   and the lead author of Goddesses: A Skeleton Key Study Guide . Joanna serves as director of marketing and communications for the Joseph Campbell Foundation and as an adjunct professor in Pacifica Graduate Institute’s Mythological Studies program. She also co-founded and co-leads the Fates and Graces , hosting webinars and workshops for mythic readers and writers. For Joanna's updates and publications, you are most cordially invited to visit her website at joannagardner.com . This MythBlast was inspired by The Hero With a Thousand Faces and the archetype of The Sovereign. Latest Podcast This bonus episode, The Iliad and The Odyssey, was recorded at Sarah Lawrence College in 1956. It serves as a rich companion to our previous episode (41) on the same topic, recorded years later in 1971. In this earlier lecture, you’ll hear Joseph Campbell’s initial reflections on Homer and the epic Greek myths offering a fascinating glimpse into the evolution of his thought over time. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "The mind of Man, according to the deist view, has never been by any such “original sin” made so beclouded that it cannot come to a sufficient knowledge of God directly by way of reason. No special revelation to a chosen people is required, nor in fact has anything of the kind ever been delivered, according to this view. All peoples are capable of the knowledge of God—which is finally why the principle of democracy can be reasonably announced and proclaimed." -- Joseph Campbell Myth and Meaning , 191 Seeing Through the Symbol - Q&A See More Videos Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

Bless Me, Ultima (2012) Gran Via Productions If you’ve spent time in New Mexico, you might know the spell the place casts. Mesas and mountains rest beneath a sky that stretches into the heart of forever. The air feels so thin it might break and let the gods pour through in all their blazing tumult. At night, the Milky Way sprays across heaven like glitter spilled upward, and owls hoo-hoo  deep in the dark. The land is home to the descendants of Indigenous people, Spanish colonizers, and later Anglo-American arrivals. Most of its stories will never be written, but one weaves these legacies together: the novel Bless Me, Ultima  by Rudolfo Anaya, upon which a movie of the same name is based. Innocence meets wisdom Bless Me, Ultima  (2012) is about a boy named Antonio who lives in rural New Mexico in the 1940s. The story begins with the arrival at Antonio’s house of an elder—a wise woman curandera , or folk healer, named Ultima, who midwifed the births of Antonio and his siblings. In gratitude for her help, Antonio’s family welcomes her into their home to live out her days.  When Antonio meets Ultima his life changes forever. The film captures this moment with haunting music and a close-up of Antonio’s awe-struck expression (2:17) but the book describes his full experience:  She took my hand, and I felt the power of a whirlwind sweep around me. Her eyes swept the surrounding hills and through them I saw for the first time the wild beauty of our hills and the magic of the green river … The four directions of the llano met in me, and the white sun shone on my soul. The granules of sand at my feet and the sun and sky above me seemed to dissolve into one strange, complete being. (Anaya 10-11) Clearly in this story, wisdom is sacred, even mystical. From this spiritual moment of union, Antonio goes on to navigate many opposing forces of disunion. His father’s vaquero , or cowboy, background contrasts with his mother’s farming heritage. The Spanish culture of his home collides with the English ways he learns at school. Most of all, he confronts two differing approaches to the sacred: an enclosed church ruled by an Anglo father-priest who focuses on control, and Ultima’s knowing acceptance of all that is, from the church, to the open land peopled with plants and animals, to the forces of fear that seek to destroy her.   wisdom is sacred, even mystical. The ways of the Wise One When Ultima arrives at Antonio’s house, so does her owl—a symbol of wisdom—with whose soul her own is bonded, showing the shamanic aspect of her powers. She teaches Antonio “to listen to the mystery of the living earth” (14:43). She tells him stories of his people, assures him the “smallest bit of good can stand against all the powers of evil in the world” (25:03). She says that “destiny must unfold itself like a flower with only the sun, earth, and water making it blossom” (1:22:53). Her wisdom educates Antonio’s soul with earth-centered images and moral strength. Ultima embodies the Wise One archetype. Hers is the wisdom of wonder and myth, the same wisdom Joseph Campbell refers to when he describes myth as “the final terms of wisdom—that is the wisdom of the deep mysteries of life” ( Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine , 15).  Ultima serves those life mysteries directly in her role as a healer. When someone is sick or wounded, she offers all her skills and knowledge. When a threat imperils an innocent, she places her tiny body between danger and the endangered. She treats trauma and curses as well as physical ailments. How does she accomplish these wonders? As Antonio’s father says: “Ultima has sympathy for people, and it is so complete that with it she can touch their souls and cure them—” “That is her magic—” [Antonio replies.] “Ay, and no greater magic can exist.” (1:27:38) Ultima’s sympathy creates connections where there seemed to be divisions. Wisdom’s power, then, flows through those connections from a wellspring of compassion and empathy.  Like the owl, wisdom can see what others don’t. Wisdom heals. Wisdom teaches. Wisdom listens and effects change. Wisdom is brave and generous. Wisdom recognizes hatred and works to neutralize it. Wisdom is simple but not simplistic. Wisdom’s intelligence embraces mind, body, soul, and earth. Wisdom appears in women. Wisdom blesses.  When wisdom speaks  While writing Bless Me, Ultima , Rudolfo Anaya struggled to craft the story, until one night, he reports in this remarkable account, he “felt something” behind him: I turned and there was this woman, older woman, dressed in dark. And she asked me what I was doing. And I said I’m writing a story about Antonio, about my childhood. And she said, “Well, you’re never going to get it right unless you put me in it.” … And so then I asked her, “Well, what’s your name?” She said, “Ultima.” And that was the inspiration that changed the novel completely.… Her spirit was now in it, and I had to go deeper into that world of the Shaman, of spirituality, of conflicts of the soul that Antonio has to solve . ( NEA Art Works Podcast, Sep 30, 2010 ) Guided by Ultima’s wisdom and inspiration, Antonio’s story arises from the center of those “conflicts of the soul.” Antonio and Ultima, however, have no conflict. An unshakeable bond unites them, even though they are young and old, male and female, innocent and wise. This love enables Antonio to occupy a place of witnessing the conflicts around him rather than reacting to them, allowing them to become available for Anaya’s creative work of storytelling.  I have heard the call of an owl fill the dark blue air of a New Mexican night, but that land is not mine. And yet because Anaya listened to Ultima and wrote this exquisite book, I know the land far better than I could have otherwise. The same way Ultima loved the land and conveyed that love to Anaya, he passed that feeling on in the story. Ultima’s blessing, then, is wisdom’s radical acceptance, the connections that flow from it, and the story that has allowed so many people to experience those sacred gifts. MythBlast authored by: Joanna Gardner, PhD , is a writer, mythologist, and magical realist focusing on creativity, goddesses, and wonder tales. She is the author of The Practice of Enchantment: MythBlast Essays, 2020-2024   and the lead author of Goddesses: A Skeleton Key Study Guide . Joanna serves as director of marketing and communications for the Joseph Campbell Foundation and as adjunct professor in Pacifica Graduate Institute’s Mythological Studies program. She also co-founded and co-leads the Fates and Graces , hosting webinars and workshops for mythic readers and writers. For Joanna's updates and additional publications, you are most cordially invited to visit her website at joannagardner.com . This MythBlast was inspired by Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine and the archetype of The Wise One. Latest Podcast In this episode, we welcome Maria Souza - Comparative Mythologist, poet, educator, and host of the Women and Mythology podcast on the Joseph Campbell Foundation’s MythMaker Podcast Network. Maria’s work bridges myth, ecology, and the sacred. With advanced degrees in Comparative Mythology and Ecology & Spirituality—and years working in the Brazilian Amazon with Indigenous communities—she brings a unique and powerful perspective to the relevance of myth in our lives today. Her book Wild Daughters explores feminine initiation through myth and poetry, and her workshops and mentorships help women reclaim archetypal wisdom and sovereignty through mythic storytelling.In this rich conversation with JCF’s Joanna Gardner, Maria reflects on her journey, the deep initiatory stories of the feminine, and how myth can be a living, healing force for our time. Find our more about Maria at https://www.womenandmythology.com/ Listen Here This Week's Highlights "When a wise old man wants to learn something, he always goes to a wise old woman. " -- Joseph Campbell "The Male and Female Journey" L0828 Audio Discussion (March, 1987) The Virgin Birth See More Videos Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

Wonder Woman (2017) Warner Brothers Pictures Spinning and spinning, I hoped that I, too, would transform into Wonder Woman. Lynda Carter’s portrayal of the character in the television series from 1975 to 1979 is etched into my two-year-old psyche. Her armbands still come to mind when I seek protection, and the memory of her transformative spin emerges when life calls me to step into my power, my sovereignty. Amazon by birth, and in some retellings, a demigod, Wonder Woman holds sovereignty as her birthright. In her 2017 cinematic depiction in Wonder Woman, her nemesis, Ares, is also sovereign; however, they each depict differing ways of exercising the power they hold. *The following content contains spoilers. A tale of two Sovereigns Long before she becomes known as Wonder Woman, young Diana’s sovereign spirit shines forth. She slips away from school to watch the Amazons spar, trains in secret with her aunt despite her mother’s disapproval, and ultimately leaves her island home against her mother’s wishes. When she learns that the human world is at war and many are suffering, she feels compelled to act. As she boards the boat to enter the human world, her mother asks her to stay. But Diana, standing tall in her integrity, replies, “Who will I be if I stay?” (00:37:17). Her sovereignty lies not just in her power, but in her unwavering commitment to live in alignment with her calling—to protect humanity, no matter the cost. We then witness Diana enter London in the midst of World War I. The Amazon begins to draw attention, which unnerves Captain Steve Trevor, a spy who has offered to take her to the front lines of the war and is attempting to go unnoticed. He tries to mold her to fit in, to not draw attention, but the world doesn’t need Diana to fit; it needs her strength and power. Diana’s singular purpose is to find Ares. Akin to the Greek deity after which he is patterned, Ares is the god of war. He sows strife amongst humans because he finds them weak, cruel, and capable of the greatest horrors (01:49:46). They do not deserve the world they’ve been given. As a god, Ares is also sovereign. Yet while Diana seeks to create a safe world where humanity can live and thrive, Ares aims to eradicate human life altogether. He uses his power to oppress and destroy and is uncompromising in his ability to see only evil in human beings. Ares is a shadow sovereign. The Sovereign archetype embodies power and the expression of the vital energies of life in the world. Thus, the Sovereign can use their power to enliven or extinguish life, use their authority to help create a stable world where others can grow, or become authoritarian, controlling, and life-suppressing. Wonder Woman depicts both aspects of the Sovereign archetype, and we as viewers are able to see how the world responds. Stepping into power Diana enters the heat of battle with Steve and their motley crew, who herd her along, attempting to protect her. Still, all she can see is human suffering. Her rage rises, and Steve tries to explain, “This is no man’s land, Diana. It means no man can cross it. This battalion has been here for nearly a year, and they’ve barely gained an inch … This is not something you can cross. It’s not possible … We can’t save everyone in this war. This is not what we came here to do” (01:13:18). Yet the suffering stirs something within her. Diana seems to stand at a crossroads. She can continue to allow others to tell her what to do, or she can act on her inner knowing, her inner sovereignty. The pain that surrounds her galvanizes her sacred duty to protect humanity, and she steps into her power. She loosens her hair, places her Aunt’s Amazonian diadem, a symbol of sovereignty, upon her head, and responds: “No, but it’s what I am going to do” (01:13:47). Emerging from the trench in full Amazon regalia, Diana embodies the Sovereign. She takes the battlefield that no man could cross—not to conquer, but to restore. Her actions are precise and clear, she destroys the weapons, not those who wield them, and then presses forward to liberate the village. She gives orders, and the motley crew complies. They recognize her power, trust her strength, and stand by her vision of prosperity for all. When the dust settles in the village, she rises from the ruins of the town church where the steeple once stood—a vision of light amid the desolation of war. With authority born to enliven the vital energies of life in the world, her aggression serves the well-being of the collective, and her destruction is aimed only towards those who take life from the world. Her righteous fury is not driven by dominance, but by a call to heal humanity. In the realm of Diana’s authority, life emerges. We hear laughter and joy. The motley crew starts to share their dreams, that before the war, they wanted to be actors, musicians, and artists. People begin to dance, and Diana asks, “Is this what people do when there are no wars to fight?” (01:26:44). The town is living again. Diana’s sovereignty has caused a ripple effect, even if it is a bubble in time, for dreamers to dream and hope to spring forth. The Sovereign allows for the creative energy of the universe to emerge. The Sovereign allows for the creative energy of the universe to emerge. Fierce love As a child, Diana was taught that protecting humanity was her sacred duty. Humans, she learned, are just and wise, strong and passionate, but war has the power to corrupt them (00:06:00). Thus, stopping the god of war is Diana’s primary goal. But her optimistic vision of peace built upon these stories has yet to grasp the complexities of humankind. And though she frees the village, by the next evening, it is destroyed in another attack. She is confronted by the depths of human cruelty and loses heart in her purpose. In her ongoing battle with Ares, she witnesses Steve sacrificing himself for the greater cause. His final words echo through her: “I can save today, you can save the world. I love you” (02:03:08). As she loses him and hears his words in her head, in her heart, something ancient and unwavering stirs within her. When Ares scoffs, “They do not deserve your protection” (02:04:46), Diana responds: “It’s not about deserve, it is about what you believe. And I believe in love” (2:04:51). She once again gains strength and resolve from her inner sovereignty, and a fierce love emerges as she decides to protect humanity, not because it is perfect, but because loving is sacred. The Sovereign’s gift Diana destroys Ares. As the smoke dissipates, the sun rises, and those around her stir as if they awaken from a nightmare. Hope renews, but it is infused with sorrow. Wish as she might, Diana can’t destroy war; she can’t save humans from themselves. In The Hero with A Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell explains that “the work of the hero is to slay the [tyrant ogre] and release from its ban the vital energies that will feed the universe” (303). The life-force is released from the bonds of tyranny. And yet, the hero, the redeemer, is always also capable of becoming the tyrant. The sovereign can heal or harm, for “this is the wisdom of the end (and rebeginning) of the world.” The capability to create and destroy remains within us all. After the harrowing ordeal, Diana begins to grasp this unsettling truth. She is no longer under the delusion that she alone can stop war. These archetypal energies are bigger than even she, a sovereign demi-god. The movie ends with Diana explaining this self-awareness: “I used to want to save the world, to end war and bring peace to mankind, but then I glimpsed the darkness that lies within their light and learned that inside every one of them there will always be both—a choice each must make for themselves. Something no hero will ever defeat. And now I know that only love can truly save the world. So I stay, I fight, and I give—for the world I know can be.” (02:09:12) The Sovereign's gift to the world is not only power and life, but sovereignty itself. She gives others the stability and resources to choose their own paths, to hold power and authority in their own lives, a safe space that allows creativity to flourish, for inhabitants to grow into the fullest version of themselves. What we do with that power is our choice. Still, giving of ourselves to help create the world we know can exist seems like a worthy goal. Perhaps it is no surprise that the United Nations named Wonder Woman an “Honorary Ambassador for the Empowerment of Women and Girls.” She has remained with me for a lifetime. Her heroic powers seeding wonder in me as a child, mirroring the fierce love of the feminine sovereign to me as an adult, and demonstrating the unwavering courage required to live my dreams for the world, not my fears. 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 Hero With a Thousand Faces and the archetype of The Sovereign. Latest Podcast In this episode of The Podcast With a Thousand Faces, we’re joined by Maureen Murdock - author, psychotherapist, educator, and a groundbreaking voice in the world of myth and memoir. Maureen is best known for her influential book The Heroine’s Journey: Woman’s Quest for Wholeness, written in response to Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Maureen had a personal and professional relationship with Campbell and it was through their dialogue that her vision of the feminine mythic path began to take shape. Her newest work, Mythmaking: Self-Discovery and the Timeless Art of Memoir, invites us to explore how our personal stories echo ancient archetypes and how writing can become a transformative act of reclaiming the self. In this conversation with host John Bucher, we explore the evolution of the heroine’s journey, Maureen’s reflections on Campbell’s legacy, and how myth and memoir together can help us find meaning in the chaos of change. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "The goddess is red with the fire of life; the earth, the solar system, the galaxies of far-extending space all swell within her womb. For she is the world creatrix, ever mother, ever virgin. She encompasses the encompassing, nourishes the nourishing, and is the life of everything that lives. She is also the death of everything that dies. The whole round of existence is accomplished within her sway, from birth, through adolescence, maturity, and senescence, to the grave. She is the womb and the tomb." -- Joseph Campbell The Hero With a Thousand Faces, 95 - 96 The Hero with a Thousand Faces See More Videos Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

Wicked (2024) Universal Pictures In a sparse room that smells of antiseptic and efficiency, the Physician’s Assistant asks me a litany of questions, marking down numbers and checking off boxes while she collects the data points that determine where I land on the health chart. Once complete, I dare to ask a question of my own: “It feels like my body is changing. Things are off; like something is wrong with me. I’m 48. Should I be doing anything about menopause?” Her response is direct: “We don’t offer hormone replacement therapy.” I take a deep breath, “Okay,” and push further, “but can you tell me where I am, maybe, so I can do some research?” I can sense the desperation in my own eyes. “I will see what I can do,” she offers, though I am not sure where that leaves me. I’m not sick, not really, but I’m not exactly well either. I can feel I am crossing a threshold that requires something of me. But I don’t really know what that is. Leaving with more questions than answers–is this what healing looks like? Learning to fly In the movie adaptation of the musical Wicked , Elphaba also feels like something is wrong with her. Shunned by those around her and even her own father because she is astonishingly green, Elphaba struggles to find her place in a society that adores sameness and simplicity. She seeks healing for her perceived affliction from the Wizard of Oz, whose reputation boasts of his all-knowing ability to fix anything. Through a series of serendipitous events, Elphaba finds herself attending university with her sister. The university separates her from her society, which shunned her, and exposes her to others seeking knowledge, or at least pretending to do so. Although those around her continue to fear her differences, Elphaba learns how powerful she is under the tutelage of Madame Morrible. Her abnormal greenness is tied to her incredible magical powers, and she begins to recognize that what she is attempting to suppress–what she thought was wrong with her–might actually be her greatest gift. Seeking to control her power, the Wizard summons her to Oz and offers to “fix” her greenness–he offers to heal her. But during her time of self-discovery at the university, something shifts in Elphaba. And as the pressure from the Wizard builds, she hesitates to accept his offer. Her friend Glinda tries to convince her, “What you've worked and waited for, you can have all you ever wanted,” yet her response questions this desire: “I know, but I don't want it, no, I can't want it anymore. Something has changed within me. Something is not the same. I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game” (2:17). And in this moment, Elphaba’s perspective of herself changes. She embraces her magnificent power, defies the Wizard’s attempts to control her, and sings that it is time to “trust my instincts, close my eyes and leap.” Taking a leap of faith, she falls, and in her free fall, she sees herself as a young girl; she reaches for that child and saves herself as she takes flight. Her external circumstances haven’t changed; everyone around her continues to fear her, but Elphaba changes. She finds her own healing within herself. Awakening our curative potentialities In Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine , Joseph Campbell describes the healing rituals held at the temple of Asclepius, the Greek god of healing. While Asclepius represented all aspects of health, such as diet, exercise, and medicine, the Asclepian temple of Epidaurus explored a deeper sense of healing. Protected from the outside world, the temple provided a sacred space surrounded by beauty where patients could meditate, pray, and then sleep in the sanctuary in a receptive state in order to receive a healing dream. Those seeking cures believed that the trek to the sanctuary and separation from daily life awakened the “curative potentialities” within the patient's psyche (123). As Campbell explains, “The whole function of the Epidaurian experience was to awaken the healing power in ourselves and bring about a psychosomatic cure” (123). Healing was not only biological, but also holistic. Rather than something that happened to you through a prescription or procedure, the patient worked to co-create their own cure. The Healer archetype has long represented the vital role of healing in human society. Throughout history, seekers have searched for healing in various forms, from bathing in sacred springs to magical cures to the advancement of modern medicine. The archetype reflects our yearning for some reprieve from our own unique version of the human condition, our enduring hope for restoration. The gift in the affliction The depth of the Asclepian healing experience lies in the fact that we each carry the Healer archetype within us, with its capacity to hold the complexities of all aspects of healing – all that encompasses “the vitality of spiritual consciousness in the life of the world” as Campbell states in Goddesses (120). There are, of course, external needs for health, medicine, and wellness, but healing, as Campbell describes it, is more than numbers and charts. By its nature, such healing expands to encompass the multitude of human experiences within the field of time, with its ongoing evolution. For Elphaba, her powers expand beyond the boundaries of what is deemed acceptable to the society around her. Her healing journey is one of depth, a psychological shift of self-acceptance that allows her to see the gifts in what has been considered her affliction, to push against society’s limits and step into the power she has always held. The depth of the Asclepian healing experience lies in the fact that we each carry the Healer archetype within us Elphaba inspires me to consider that perhaps what I am trying to “fix” in myself might actually be exactly what is needed for the next chapter within my unique journey in the field of time. Instead of trying to fit things into the way they were before, perhaps holistic healing involves allowing these symptoms to summon the Healer archetype from within, initiating the psychological shift necessary to cross this new threshold. Embracing change means seeing the “affliction” of menopause as a gift, an awakening to a deeper sense of healing. 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 Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine and the archetype of The Healer. Latest Podcast In this episode, we welcome Maria Souza - Comparative Mythologist, poet, educator, and host of the Women and Mythology podcast on the Joseph Campbell Foundation’s MythMaker Podcast Network. Maria’s work bridges myth, ecology, and the sacred. With advanced degrees in Comparative Mythology and Ecology & Spirituality—and years working in the Brazilian Amazon with Indigenous communities—she brings a unique and powerful perspective to the relevance of myth in our lives today. Her book Wild Daughters explores feminine initiation through myth and poetry, and her workshops and mentorships help women reclaim archetypal wisdom and sovereignty through mythic storytelling.In this rich conversation with JCF’s Joanna Gardner, Maria reflects on her journey, the deep initiatory stories of the feminine, and how myth can be a living, healing force for our time. Find our more about Maria at https://www.womenandmythology.com/ Listen Here This Week's Highlights "Asclepius’s great temple at Epidaurus was a sanatorium to which people went for health cures. Now, how was healing handled at Epidaurus? It was a great and gloriously beautiful sanctuary of harmony and beauty that included dormitories, temples, and parks. The individual would come to the sanctuary and meditate and pray under the instruction of the priest but would then go to sleep and dream in the sanctuary of the god, and in the dream the healing power would appear.” -- Joseph Campbell Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine , 121 Jung, Pedagogy, and Projection of the Shadow See More Videos Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

Invictus  (2009) Warner Brothers It's only when a man tames his own demons that he becomes the king of himself, if not of the world. Joseph Campbell, quoted by Bill Moyers  in conversation with Maurice Sendak As we enter into the month of July in this year’s MythBlast series, we turn to filmic expressions of the archetype of the Sovereign (occasionally called the Ruler or sometimes split into the binary of the King and Queen). While certainly this archetype appears in many societal structures—families, businesses, religious institutions—its presence in politics often garners the most attention. Because a political sovereign can influence all those affiliations mentioned (and more), it evokes more fascination and fear regarding its manifestations in the world. I have chosen to explore the 2009 film Invictus , a movie that I believe both speaks to the current political state of the world and is instructive across time and geopolitics because its archetypal resonances transcend the setting of the story. Moreover, it can address the inner Sovereign within us all, no matter what our relation to power is in the outer world. Sovereign or tyrant? The story of Invictus  follows the unlikely alliance between black South African president Nelson Mandela (Morgan Freeman) and Francois Pienaar (Matt Damon), the white captain of the South African rugby team known as the Springboks. When the nation elects Mandela as president, he faces more than just the problems of his country’s poverty and crime; he also understands that he must confront the pressure stemming from many of his fellow black South Africans’ desire for retributive justice against their white Afrikaner neighbors after years of oppression. In other words, Mandela is feeling hard-pressed to embody the Tyrant variant of the Sovereign archetype–a role which would certainly not embrace the almost all-white Springbok team.Robert Moore and Douglas Gillette, in their book King, Warrior, Magician, Lover , outline the attributes of mature Ruler archetypal energy.  It stabilizes chaotic emotion and out-of-control behaviors. It gives stability and centeredness … It looks upon the world with a firm but kindly eye. It sees others in all their weakness and in all their talent and worth. It honors them and promotes them. It guides them and nurtures them toward their own fullness of being. (62)  This, the noblest function of the Sovereign, is able to bring balance and order to seemingly oppositional forces that would each seek just to overcome each other. Defying the expectations of the more vengeance-minded within his country, Mandela convinces the South African Sports Committee to keep the Springboks intact in a powerful speech: Our enemy is no longer the Afrikaner. They are our fellow South Africans, our partners in democracy. And they treasure Springbok rugby. If we take that away, we lose them. We prove that we are what they feared we would be. We have to be better than that. We have to surprise them with compassion, with restraint and generosity; … You elected me your leader. Let me lead you now. Mandela here expresses some of the high attributes of the Sovereign archetype, strategic in his use of power towards the ends of “taming the demons,” as Campbell points out in the epigraph above. But the origin of Mandela’s nobility as a leader in the outer world began with his journey into inner sovereignty.  the Sovereign, is able to bring balance and order to seemingly oppositional forces that would each seek just to overcome each other. Soul sovereignty When Mandela meets with Pienaar to reveal his plan to make the Springboks the symbol of political unity, Pienaar is shocked. He appreciates the support and belief in the team’s ability to win the upcoming World Cup (hosted in South Africa), and yet he questions how Mandela can show such “restraint and generosity.” So Pineaar arranges for the entire rugby team to visit Robben Island, the site of eighteen of Mandela’s twenty-seven years of imprisonment. The words of the poem  “Invictus,” written in 1875 by William Ernest Henley–words which served as inspiration for Mandela during his incarceration–now echo through Pienaar’s mind: “I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.” Pienaar begins to realize that Mandela, through his “ Long Walk to Freedom ,” first gained sovereignty within, a captaincy of his own soul (both the light and dark aspects). This kind of freedom transcends politics; it emanates from the soul, thus it can be found in all kinds of worldly situations. The state of inner sovereignty is not about “mastery” in the most oppressive sense. Indeed, Henry David Thoreau commented in Walden , “It is hard to have a Southern overseer; it is worse to have a Northern one; but worst of all when you are the slave-driver of yourself” (11). Self-mastery is more akin to the fluid capability of a dancer to move freely, to occupy whatever positionality serves the best in the moment. Joseph Campbell addressed both the idea of the Sovereign and this concept of freedom in the final two stages of the hero’s journey, the Master of the Two Worlds and Freedom to Live. He observes, “Freedom to pass back and forth across the world division … is the talent of the master. The Cosmic Dancer, declares Nietzche, does not rest heavily in a single spot, but gaily, lightly, turns and leaps from one position to another” ( The Hero with a Thousand Faces , 196). To many, Mandela’s dance between the two political sides of his country felt puzzling, but it simply embodied an outward expression of his own completed hero’s journey from prisoner to president. While one may already know the outcome of the 1995 World Cup, the real story-behind-the-story as told in Invictus  is that of two Sovereigns–one of an entire country, one of a rugby team–who work together to epitomize the mastery of two worlds in a symbolic but powerful way. Moore and Gillette remark that the Sovereign archetype is “the energy that seeks peace and stability, orderly growth and nurturing for all people ” (62, emphasis added). Whether through the inner work of integrating all of our own soul’s qualities, or through the outer work of exerting whatever power we have towards those ends, we all can embody the Sovereign, with the principles of these two people as guiding examples. MythBlast authored by: Scott Neumeister, PhD  is a literary scholar, author, TEDx speaker, mythic pathfinder and Editor of the MythBlast series from Tampa, Florida, where he earned his PhD in English from the University of South Florida in 2018. His specialization in multiethnic American literature and mythology comes after careers as an information technology systems engineer and a teacher of English and mythology at the middle school and college levels. Scott coauthored Let Love Lead: On a Course to Freedom with Gary L. Lemons and Susie Hoeller, and he has served as a facilitator for the Joseph Campbell Foundation’s Myth and Meaning book club at Literati. This MythBlast was inspired by The Hero With a Thousand Faces and the archetype of The Sovereign. Latest Podcast This lecture was recorded at Sarah Lawrence College in 1971, Campbell’s final year of teaching there. In this episode, he delves into Homer’s epic, The Odyssey, framing it through the lens of the Hero’s Adventure. With insight and depth, Campbell explores the myth’s historical roots and its enduring power as a metaphor for the journey of life. Host Brad Olson introduces the lecture and returns at the end with closing reflections. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "Freedom to pass back and forth across the world division . . . is the talent of the master. The Cosmic Dancer, declares Nietzsche, does not rest heavily in one spot, but gaily, lightly, leaps from one position to another. It is possible to speak from only one point at a time, but that does not invalidate the insights of the rest." -- Joseph Campbell The Hero With a Thousand Faces, 196 A New Mythology - The Planet See More Videos Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

Copyright: Starwars.com I hope that you had a chance to read John Bucher’s introduction  to the theme of the MythBlast series in 2025. As John observes, the cinema is one of the last remaining places that transports us from the realm of the mundane into the numinous, making it very worthwhile to examine it through the lens of Joseph Campbell’s work. Exploring a different archetype every month, our writers will illuminate how each one presents itself on-screen with delicious variations while yet maintaining common characteristics that aggregate under the archetype’s umbrella. I am thrilled to be both the editor of the series and a contributor this month for The Fool. A very human droid I have chosen for the focus of my article a much-beloved character from the Star Wars  Universe: C-3PO, often just called Threepio. Although technically a(n an)droid, Threepio is quite human in many respects. In fact, he and his droid sidekick, R2-D2 (Artoo), carry the bulk of the first quarter of the original 1977 movie, Episode IV: A New Hope . While we quickly grasp that Artoo and Threepio provide comic relief with their banter, by examining Threepio as The Fool we can gain a deeper appreciation for both how he functions and how he resonates with viewers. The Fool often exhibits qualities that keen audiences grasp quickly: a childlike innocence and naivete, blithe disregard for societal rules and norms, simplistic and limited worldviews, and a form of courage and carefreeness that comes from being unaware of conventions and situations. Certainly Threepio fits most of these. His wide-open eyes, combined with his mouth permanently agape, give him a constant look of wonder. His limited movement and lack of fighting capabilities make him seem as non-threatening and defenseless as a child. Threepio often can tend to pontificate, give too much detail on a subject, or not pick up on the social clues that his input or presence is not valued. From the film’s opening, he establishes a pattern of disinterest in the grand struggles of the rebels against the Empire—he worries far more about self-preservation than greater causes. Joseph Campbell famously spoke to Bill Moyers about Star Wars  in the interviews that comprise The Power of Myth . Campbell at one point focuses on Darth Vader’s mask which, when removed, shows a man “who has not developed his humanity. He’s a robot” (178). In some ways, the robot Threepio is more human than Vader, in that aspects of his humanity seem developed. However, Threepio’s mask, unlike Vader’s, is fear —the expression that his face carries can be both wonder and horror. Indeed, the one very non-Fool aspect that differentiates Threepio from most Fools, is an over developed survival mechanism—his utterances such as “We’re doomed” and “This is madness” constantly portray dread at his situation. While the Tarot Fool inattentively walks over the cliffside, Threepio is hypervigilant for cliffs of all kinds: a neurotic Fool. While the Tarot Fool inattentively walks over the cliffside, Threepio is hypervigilant for cliffs of all kinds: a neurotic Fool. Holding our shared fears As much as we think of heroic protagonists as fearless, closer to the truth is that they either manage or repress their anxieties in the name of taking action. British film critic Rob Ager (on his YouTube channel Collative Learning) speaks of one of Threepio’s functions in the films: he is the one character allowed to express out loud “the negative emotional baggage that the heroes of the story have to drag about” ( “Star Wars: the hidden complexities of C3PO (character analysis) Part One,”  00:58:50 – 00:58:56). Moreover, Threepio does so with the assistance of computer-driven precision about the odds of survival or failure.  In a sense, Threepio’s worry is pure . While we, the audience, tend to lean into the belief that heroes will succeed and everything will turn out alright because “that’s how heroic stories go,” Threepio’s assessments of situations are both coldly rational and  bypass our own management and repression of fears about the heroes’ future victories. He functions in the films, not simply as a robot who can serve the heroes’ logistical needs in achieving their goals (something which the audience could not ), but as the deep soul’s expressions about the anxiety of survival (something the audience is sensing, whether conscious of that fact or not). One other aspect of Threepio’s embodiment of the Fool relates to the comic aspect I mentioned before. In his truth-telling and breaking of social protocols, he never conveys heaviness, anger, or hostility. This lightness of delivery makes it easy to ignore his hypervigilance and even find humor in it. While Threepio “poo-poos” the heroes’ plans as “madness,” not once is he banished from the fellowship. Campbell spoke metaphorically about this tolerance in A Joseph Campbell Companion: Reflections on the Art of Living : "As you proceed through life, following your own path, birds will shit on you. Don’t bother to brush it off. Getting a comedic view of your situation gives you spiritual distance. Having a sense of humor saves you" (20). By allowing the flighty Threepio to do his worry-wart thing, both the other characters and the audience can laugh at and give spiritual distance to the defeatism that would cripple their enterprise. “Yes-And” courage My fellow MythBlast authors and JCF colleagues Joanna Gardner  and Stephanie Zajchowski  are huge proponents of the Yes-And model of holding ideas, taken from the world of improv theater. This approach allows for a tension of opposites to hold in the space of ideas and feelings. While Threepio can be seen as a “But” character in his nature, another overall purpose of his unfiltered Fool neurosis is to allow both his fellow characters and us audience members to be “Yes-And.” Yes, your concerns are valid, AND we are moving forward. And if the heroes (and we as their “confederates” in the cinema) can hold the paradox of fear and faith—with some humor to help things along—then that amplifies the heroic experience of the story. Who knew the Fool could make us laugh and  feel more courageous? MythBlast authored by: Scott Neumeister  is a literary scholar, author, TEDx speaker, mythic pathfinder and Editor of the MythBlast series from Tampa, Florida, where he earned his Ph.D. in English from the University of South Florida in 2018. His specialization in multiethnic American literature and mythology comes after careers as an information technology systems engineer and a teacher of English and mythology at the middle school and college levels. Scott coauthored Let Love Lead: On a Course to Freedom with Gary L. Lemons and Susie Hoeller, and he has served as a facilitator for the Joseph Campbell Foundation’s Myth and Meaning book club at Literati. This MythBlast was inspired by Creative Mythology and the archetype of The Fool . Latest Podcast This lecture, recorded at the Esalen Institute in 1981, features Joseph Campbell delving into Jung’s concepts of the Anima and Animus, the shadow in psychology, and the role of myth in helping us navigate unexpected life challenges. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "As you proceed through life, following your own path, birds will shit on you. Don’t bother to brush it off. Getting a comedic view of your situation gives you spiritual distance. Having a sense of humor saves you." -- Joseph Campbell A Joseph Campbell Companion , 20 Parzival - Medieval Troubadour Traditions of Love (see more videos) Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

Werewolves Within (2021) The alchemy of horror and comedy I admit, somewhat wryly: I generally avoid horror. I don’t seek out slasher films, and I’d rather skip the books that keep me awake with my heart racing—I get my adrenaline hits elsewhere. But horror with  comedy? That’s a different alchemy altogether. There is something fascinating in the juxtaposition—the grotesque sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with the ridiculous. When horror and humor converge, something mythic stirs. Precisely in this liminal space—between fear and laughter—I find myself intrigued with the archetype of the Healer. An unlikely hero Director Josh Ruben’s  film Werewolves Within , based on Ubisoft’s video game, became, unexpectedly, a personal and archetypal touchstone for me. Set in a snowed-in mountain town wracked with suspicion, the story pivots not on the werewolf itself but on the psychological unraveling of a community under pressure. At its core is Finn Wheeler (Sam Richardson), a conflict-averse, painfully polite forest ranger. He arrives with no sword, no bravado, and no desire to dominate. He listens. He mediates. He believes—almost foolishly—in kindness. And this insistence on decency, absurd as it may appear amid violence and mistrust, situates him within the archetype of the Healer. Finn’s trajectory evokes Campbell’s hero’s journey, but with an essential inversion. His heroic arc is presence over conquest. He doesn’t actually slay the monster, but instead holds ground for human decency amidst fracture ( The Hero with a Thousand Faces , 210). This is the healer-hero—what C.G. Jung identified in psychological terms as the Wounded Healer archetype, wherein one’s vulnerability becomes the conduit for transformation ( The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious , 20). Finn’s awkwardness, his persistent hopefulness, allows him to mirror back the townspeople’s fear without becoming absorbed by it. Shadow and the ritual of laughter Horror, of course, is saturated with shadow. Jung’s conception of the shadow self—the disavowed, unconscious aspects of our psyche—resonates deeply in the figure of the werewolf. As half-human, half-beast, the werewolf embodies our repressed instincts, our animal rage, our socially unpalatable desires (Jung, 131). Such creatures often surface, not coincidentally, in isolated, already-fractured communities. The monster is not merely a threat from without; it is a projection of the internal rot. As Jung notes, we are prone to externalizing our shadow, making monsters of others to avoid confronting the monsters within (Jung, 42). Aristotle’s Poetics  offers a powerful lens as well. His concept of catharsis—that tragedy evokes pity and fear in order to purge them—maps onto the function of horror ( Aristotle , 1449b). Horror disorients, provokes, even wounds, but it does so in service to psychic release. As Jacquie Walters writes , “Horror gives us a way to confront fear and trauma from a place of safety. It lets us feel powerful in the face of the unthinkable.” And comedy, layered atop horror, often completes the arc. Adam Safron’s theory of humor as a mechanism for anxiety reduction (RAR) aligns here: laughter functions as a regulatory system, a counterweight to terror, and in some cases, a re-enchantment of meaning ( Safron ). In Werewolves Within , the audience’s laughter becomes ritual. It creates the emotional flexibility necessary to metabolize the fear. The absurdity makes the horror digestible and in turn opens the door to both the healing that horror invites and the release found in laughter, as Safron suggests. Crises and the Healer’s kindness  These archetypal energies came to roost in my life both metaphorical and literal ways, offering support and insights in an unprecedented moment. Werewolves Within  was shot at Spillian , the Catskills estate I steward. Production wrapped three days before New York shut down in response to COVID-19. Our staff, back on site to restore the mansion, got sent home by mandate, leaving half-filled coffee mugs and scattered tools. When they returned months later, the scene was uncanny—like walking into an echo of Pompeii. The film’s presence lingered in the air, suspended. And more tangibly, the rental revenue from the production helped sustain us through the first uncertain months of the pandemic. I’m finding it fascinating to see this through a mythic lens. The film’s plot unfolds in a town already weakened by the threat of a gas pipeline—politically divided, ideologically embattled—then thrown into full disarray by an unseen predator. It echoes, with unexpected resonance, both the early pandemic and the current divides shattering the United States: communitas  unraveling, fear of contagion and the other, trust eroded at the root. In both, the question is not simply who is the monster, but whether community can survive the knowledge that it is not immune to monstrosity. And yet, Werewolves Within  does not descend into hopelessness. Its hero is not triumphant in the traditional sense. He does not defeat the darkness so much as illuminate the possibility of wholeness within it. The Healer archetype does not promise resolution—it offers resilience. It reminds us, gently and absurdly, that presence, kindness, and unflagging awkwardness may, in the end, be our most potent form of magic. The Healer archetype does not promise resolution—it offers resilience. Werewolves Within  was released just as the pandemic was beginning to subside, at a time when large gatherings were still rare and cautious. Director Josh Ruben and his collaborators never had the chance to celebrate its release together. A year later, Josh returned to Spillian to screen the film—a gesture full of warmth and generosity, jump scares and laughter—and in doing so, launched a broader tour of screenings in New York City and beyond. Kindness, again, at the center. A small but powerful echo of the film’s heart. MythBlast authored by: Leigh Melander, PhD has an eclectic background in the arts and organizational development, working with inviduals and organizations in the US and internationally for over 20 years. She has a doctorate in cultural mythology and psychology and wrote her dissertation on frivolity as an entry into the world of imagination. Her writings on mythology and imagination can be seen in a variety of publications, and she has appeared on the History Channel, as a mythology expert. She also hosts a radio who on an NPR community affiliate: Myth America, an exploration into how myth shapes our sense of identity. Leigh and her husband opened Spillian, an historic lodge and retreat center celebrating imagination in the Catskills, and works with clients on creative projects. She is honored to have previously served as the Vice President of the Joseph Campbell Foundation Board of Directors. This MythBlast was inspired by Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine and the archetype of The Healer. Latest Podcast In this episode, we sit down with Dr. Max Klau to explore the intersection of leadership, service, and inner transformation. Max’s work centers on the transformational path of servant leadership: helping individuals integrate their inner life with outer impact. A Harvard-trained scholar in human development and leadership, Max has spent decades designing programs that support leaders who are committed to service. He most recently served as Chief Program Officer at New Politics Leadership Academy, where he worked to bring more military veterans and national service alumni into politics.His upcoming book, Developing Servant Leaders at Scale, offers a roadmap for growing compassionate, courageous leaders. Deeply influenced by Joseph Campbell, Max views leadership as a mythic process—an invitation to face your shadow, grow from adversity, and return with wisdom in service of something greater than yourself. In this conversation, we explore Max's journey, what true servant leadership looks like, and how building better leaders might just be one of the most powerful ways to heal our fractured world. To find our more about Max visit: https://www.maxklau.com/ Listen Here This Week's Highlights "Getting a comedic view of your situation gives you spiritual distance. Having a sense of humor saves you." -- Joseph Campbell A Joseph Campbell Companion , 20 Parzival: A Tale with Many Tellings See More Videos Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

Bill Moyers and Joseph Campbell in conversation during the filming of  Joseph Campbell and the Power of Myth  in 1980. (Photo credit: Don Perdue) The death of Bill Moyers is not only the passing of a journalist or public intellectual. It is the loss of a distinctive American voice that, for decades, has asked us to think more deeply, remember our humanity, and explore with wonder the mysteries of life. The New York Times obituary, quoting Peter J. Boyer, the journalist and author, called Moyers “a rare and powerful voice, a kind of secular evangelist.” For many of us—especially those working at the intersection of myth and culture—Moyers will always be remembered for The Power of Myth , his 1988 PBS series of conversations with Joseph Campbell. That series didn’t merely introduce Campbell to tens of millions; it reintroduced Americans to their own inner lives, as well as the power of mythic imagination. Moyers was not just a host in those conversations; he was a curious, participative co-creator, coaxing and shaping the conversation with generosity and gravity. It takes a rare combination of intelligence and humility to listen well, to ask questions that are neither interrogations nor performances but genuine invitations. In his exchanges with Campbell, he never tried to outshine the material or outsmart Campbell; instead, he allowed the power of myth to shine through one of its most eloquent proponents. And in doing so, he modeled for us what it means to be a genuinely curious, thoughtful stakeholder in cultural life. What has always struck me most about The Power of Myth is the way it illuminated myth’s capacity to offer consolation in the face of life’s complexities and human limitations. Moyers asked the questions we all wanted to ask, and he asked them not as a broadcaster but as a fellow human being, trying to make sense of the human project. We mourn the loss of a man who helped so many of us hear the mythic resonance living beneath the noise and bustle of modern life. And in remembering Bill Moyers, may we also remember to be awake to wonder, to ask better questions, and to keep alive the power of myth. MythBlast authored by: Bradley Olson, PhD.  is an author, speaker, and a psychotherapist. He serves as the Publications Director for the Joseph Campbell Foundation and the host of JCF's flagship podcast, Pathways With Joseph Campbell. Dr. Olson holds 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 ). Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter

Casablanca (1942) Warner Brothers Pictures We are living in a moment where trickster energy is weaving through much of the momentum in the world. Where truth lies, who holds power, and whether our perceptions of what’s happening around us is uncertain, as it shatters many of our ideas about how things work. This energy is truly uncomfortable, as trickster energy often is, but I’m finding myself wondering about both its oppositional and the generative power, as well as its ability to disquiet us, both individually and collectively. The trickster in resistance: Casablanca “Two German Couriers were found murdered in the desert. The unoccupied desert. This is the customary roundup of refugees, liberals, and of course, beautiful young girls by Inspector Renault.” This is how Casablanca   (1942) begins, rounding up suspicious characters (or as Renault says later, in a wonderful trickster metaphor, the “usual suspects”), in the ongoing dance between compliance and complicity, self-interest and selflessness, courage and defiance that runs through the film. While Renault is the most obvious trickster figure in the film, ultimately, almost no one is exactly who they seem to be, and truth and perception are fluid and unsettling. Ambiguity reigns; Sidney Rosensweig in Casablanca and Other Major Films of Michael Curti z , cites the different names that each character gives Rick (Richard, Ricky, Mr. Rick, Herr Rick and boss) as evidence of the different meanings that he has for each person (82). Laszlo is indomitable, elegant, and utterly vulnerable not to the Nazis, but to Ilsa, who in turn chooses passion over righteousness. And of course Rick, who “sticks his neck out for nobody,” finds the courage for both of them to reach for that rightness at the cost of their happiness.  Resisting “The” trickster What is most intriguing about the film, though, is that the archetype is not fixed, but instead an energy that touches everyone in the film.  Place itself is liminal. Casablanca operates under its own ever-shifting rules, outside of both the structure and destruction of Europe during the Second World War. Vichy, the headquarters of the French government collaborating with the Nazis, is the site of volcanic springs that offer mineralized water that promise health and new beginnings. And always, the plane to Lisbon offers an escape to order and the freedom that the United States promised in the era.  I am reminded of David L. Miller ’s insights in lectures where he has challenged the crystallization and literalization of archetypes into static figures by stressing the importance of thinking of archetypal versus archetype. It shifts archetypes from “what” into “how,” and even “why.” Understanding archetype this way, as movement rather than a fixed set of character traits, as more of a verb rather than a noun, deepens our intuiting of the power of archetypal thinking. Instead of being a conclusion, archetypes are instead flowing metaphors that exist and move both within us and outside ourselves. They provide openings rather than answers. By resisting our inclinations to say, “so-and-so is a trickster,” we can look at the movement and essence animating not just people, but also places, stories, and ourselves. Archetypes then become genuinely mythic, as metaphors that touch upon ideas that are larger than we can completely wrap our arms around, rather than simply stereotypes.  Instead of being a conclusion, archetypes are instead flowing metaphors that exist and move both within us and outside ourselves Tricksters, human nature, shadow, and resistance C.G. Jung argues  that the trickster archetype is undifferentiated human consciousness, reflecting the earliest humans and what he perceived as psyches that had yet developed. He states: The so-called civilized man has forgotten the trickster. He remembers him only figuratively and metaphorically, when, irritated by his own ineptitude, he speaks of fate playing tricks on him or of things being bewitched. He never suspects that his own hidden and apparently harmless shadow has qualities whose dangerousness exceeds his wildest dreams. As soon as people get together in masses and submerge the individual, the shadow is mobilized, and, as history shows, may even be personified and incarnated. Perhaps, if we resist the temptation to perceive ourselves as “civilized” and somehow beyond this hermetic, base-line part of being human, we can begin to wrestle with our own shadows and reshape the mobilization of cultural shadows.  But ultimately, I am inspired by Campbell, with the idea that the trickster “represents the power of the dynamic of the total psyche to overthrow programs” ( 00:00:32-00:00:40 ). We can join Rick and Renault, unleash the usual suspects, and exhale, “Vive la résistance.” MythBlast authored by: Leigh Melander, PhD has an eclectic background in the arts and organizational development, working with inviduals and organizations in the US and internationally for over 20 years. She has a doctorate in cultural mythology and psychology and wrote her dissertation on frivolity as an entry into the world of imagination. Her writings on mythology and imagination can be seen in a variety of publications, and she has appeared on the History Channel, as a mythology expert. She also hosts a radio who on an NPR community affiliate: Myth America, an exploration into how myth shapes our sense of identity. Leigh and her husband opened Spillian, an historic lodge and retreat center celebrating imagination in the Catskills, and works with clients on creative projects. She is honored to have previously served as the Vice President of the Joseph Campbell Foundation Board of Directors. This MythBlast was inspired by Creative Mythology and the archetype of The Trickster . Latest Podcast New Episodes of Pathways will begin again in June. In this episode from Season 1, (Episode 8) Joseph Campbell speaks at the Wainwright House in Rye, New York, in 1966, discussing mystical experiences. Host, Brad Olson, offers an introduction and commentary after the talk in this episode of the Pathways podcast. Listen Here This Week's Highlights "Mythology, in other words, is not an outmoded quaintness of the past, but a living complex of archetypal, dynamic images, native to, and eloquent of, some constant, fundamental stratum of the human psyche. And that stratum is the source of the vital energies of our being." -- Joseph Campbell The Ecstasy of Being , 18 The Center of The World Subscribe to the MythBlast Newsletter