The Hero’s Journey

Follow Your Bliss: The Hero’s Journey

Conrad E. L’Heureux

There are certain times in our lives when we are in touch with a very deep part of ourselves. We feel whole and vitally alive, and we can say, “This is what is really worthwhile.” These special situations, or activities, or types of awareness embody what matters most in life. Such experiences provide deep joy and satisfaction, even though a lot of pain and hardship may have been required to get there. They bring inner peace and serenity, eve though the path sometimes passes through conflict, hostility and struggle. Moments like this are incredibly precious. By comparison, everything else pales to insignificance.

What a shame it would be if we wasted our lives away on anything less than “what is really worthwhile.” And yet, isn’t this exactly what tends to happen so much of the time?

There are many reasons why we often settle for much less than is available in the experiences of life. One factor may be that we have not paid enough attention to become consciously aware of what in fact it is we do most want out of life, Without a clear awareness of where we want to go, we can just drift passively with whatever comes along, whatever just “happens.” Besides, there are plenty of individuals and institutions around us who are more than willing to tell us how they think we should live. It’s easier to go along with their expectations than to trust my own sense of who I am and how I choose to shape my own life. Finally, even if we have a vague awareness of what is most satisfying and fulfilling for us, it is so easy to postpone. We can get caught up in demands of the moment; or tell ourselves we should carry out certain duties and responsibilities first; or wait till we have saved certain sum of money. The question becomes: “Will we ever get to what we really want? To what is truly worthwhile?” It is because of the urgency of these questions that one of the great teachers of our times repeatedly exhorted his students, “Follow your bliss.”

We are having experiences all the time which may on occasion render some sense of this, a little intuition of where your bliss is. Grab it. No one can tell you what it is going to be. You have to learn to recognize your own depth…go where your body and soul want to go. When you have the feeling, then stay with it, and don’t let anyone throw you off. (The Power of Myth, 118).

The myth of Parsifal and the grail quest deals precisely with following one’s bliss. Chrétien de Troyes, a medieval French poet, first put the tale into writing abut 1180 or 1190 A.D. Partly because Chrétien died before finishing his work, partly because the story so fascinated the popular imagination, a large number of different versions of the story were produced in subsequent years. Especially important is the German version of the story written by Wolfram von Eschenbach ten or twenty years after the death of Chrétien. The Parsifal material was of special interest to Campbell, who devoted much of his energy as a scholar to the elucidation of this text. Moreover, he was a person who exhibited in his own life the values he fostered in those who attended his classes, his lectures, and his workshops. We shall see that we can learn much about following our bliss by interacting with the wondrous story, which Chrétien called, “the best tale ever told.”

Why Stories?

In our culture, it might be expected that wisdom about life and how to follow one’s bliss would be articulated in works of psychology, philosophy, or theology. Why turn to stories? The main reason is that a story, like life itself, is dynamic. Abstract analysis and generalization has its own place and its own value. But abstract concepts by their very nature tend to reduce whatever they are describing to a static “thing.” Their very precision excludes the rich web of allusions, the stirring of the imagination, and the emotions characteristic of the story. Long before discursive philosophical ways of thinking developed, men and women expressed their experience of what it meant to be alive, what it meant to be a human being, by telling and listening to stories. The millions of contemporary Americans who have been stirred by Joseph Campbell’s writings and video-taped conversations have correctly sensed that the great stories of the human community are expressions of something we earnestly long for and desperately need.

Of course, not all stories have the same depth of significance. What we are interested in are stories which have a mythic dimension, that is. stories which represent and illuminate archetypal material. An archetype is a pattern which comes up over and over again both on the level of story and on the level of life. These patterns keep recurring because they are innate to our very being—something like the instinctive patterns of migration and nest-building are innate to birds. For example, one of the most universal and profound patterns is the emergence of new life out of death. We all experience the revival of spring after the death of winter. The individual grain of wheat dies to become a seed and produces a multitude of new grains. The bloom of youth passes away when the adult life matures. The parent gives of self and dies so that new offspring can have life. It is no wonder then, that the mythology of the human race abounds with stories which embody this pattern of dying and rising. There is the Christian story of Jesus, the Egyptian myth of Osiris, the Canaanite epic of Baal, or the Native American tale of the buffalo master. Each of these specific stories is the expression of the same underlying archetype.

A story which has mythic quality is one rich in archetypal characters, situations, and events. But since the archetypal patterns manifest themselves in so many different levels of our existence, a given passage in a myth may have many different levels of meaning. For example, when Parsifal begins his adventure, he leaves his mother behind, crosses of a bridge, and plunges “into the forest dark and grim.” On the simplest level, we find a pattern familiar to everyone who has gone through the process of growing up, the need to separate from one’s mother. This is so well known that we use common ways of referring to it such as “cutting the apron strings.” Yet the pattern recurs in other life situations too. We may have had to cross a “bridge” in our lives and leave behind an old part of ourselves. Or perhaps we have rebelled against the demands of an institution, or the expectations of our society or of our peers. That is, a considerable variety of life experiences correspond to this scene. But there is also a deeper psychological reference to the event. As will be discussed below, the crossing of the threshold also suggest the transition from the sphere of mundane concerns in order to enter the realm of the Unconscious, facing the “dark forest” of previously unexplored parts of our very selves. Archetypal stories, therefore, could be called polyvalent since many levels of meaning can be present simultaneously. On the one hand, there will be different associations for different individuals. Yet even a single person will find different meanings at different stages of his or her life. Accordingly, it is to be expected that as you read this book you will find in the adventures of Parsifal levels of meaning which have not occurred to me as I write. Foster this process by allowing the story to resonate with your being and your experience so that you creatively discover what the story has to say to you personally.

`As we approach an archetypal story, it is helpful to differentiate between myth and allegory. An allegory is a story in which the characters and events all have a one-to-one correspondence with a predetermined ideological construct. For example, an account about how Mr. Christian met Sir Mammon and was led down the Avenue of Greed, thus losing his way from his true destination, has a simple didactic message to convey. Such an allegory is based on an abstract and systematic perspective which is secondarily reproduced in story form. The allegory has significance for readers and hearers only if they already agree with the ideology which shaped the narrative. An archetypal story, on the other hand, is, like a dream, a more spontaneous creation of the imagination. It reflects the patterns innate to the Unconscious rather than a conscious ideology. Whereas the allegory is flatly didactic and moralistic, an archetypal story is rich with a variety of allusions and applications. Of course it frequently happens that archetypal material is presented in such a way as to give it an allegorical overlay. This is especially likely to happen in self-conscious literary or artistic treatment of older mythological material such as the later versions of the Grail quest and even in Wagner’s operatic treatment of the theme in his Parzival.

“Metaphor” is another helpful concept in speaking of the power of stories. When Romeo said “Juliet is the sun,” he was speaking metaphorically. A metaphor goes further than a simile. The latter explicitly uses the word “like” and is usually limited to one point of comparison, for example, “The explosion blazed like the sun.” Romeo’s statement, on the other hand, is not limited to just one point of comparison and could suggest a variety of things about Juliet. In her light he saw himself differently; compared to her nothing else could really shine; she was the center around which everything in his life now revolved. But the metaphor is not limited to these points and could suggest much more. Metaphor has the ability to represent by allusion and connotation what is difficult to express in more mundane language.

The central metaphor in the Parsifal story is the Grail. In Chrétien’s version of the story, the word seems to refer to a kind of serving platter. In other early versions of the myth it is a stone, a gem, a cup, or even a cauldron. Later in the retelling of the story, the grail became identified with the cup which had been used at the Last Supper and in which Joseph of Arimethea had collected blood from the side of Christ as he hung upon the cross. Apparently, the later concept represents a Christianized version of earlier pagan traditions, probably Celtic in origin. Paradoxically, however, it doesn’t really matter what this object was. The point remains that the Grail serves as a metaphor for the goal of life’s journey—that reality or experience which has such profound significance that it makes sense to dedicate one’s life to its quest and to relegate everything else to relative unimportance. In short, to undertake the Grail quest is synonymous with following your bliss.

The Journey Cycle

The Parsifal myth belongs to a large category of stories in which a heroic figure undertakes a journey or quest. This literature was studied by Campbell in one of his earliest books, The Hero With a Thousand Faces. The title reflects the fact that hundreds of stories from all over the world and from all periods of history follow a single underlying pattern which he called the monomyth. The common factor is so striking that the variety of stories seem to reflect different “faces” of the one hero.

The cycle begins with a call. Usually the rather routine and humdrum life of the protagonist is suddenly interrupted by events which launch the hero into a completely different sphere of activity. For example, Moses is shepherding flocks of sheep and goats when the Lord calls him from a burning bush and sends him to lead the enslaved Hebrews out of Egypt. Or, to take a more recent work, Luke Skywalker is bored of working on his uncle’s farm. A robot which he just happens to acquire communicates a call for help from Princess Lea and he is off on his adventure! According to Virgil, while Troy was being destroyed by the Greeks, the goddess Venus informed Aeneas that it was his mission to find a new homeland for the descendants of his people and so he set out on a whole series of adventures which climaxed in the founding of Rome. And finally, we can mention Bilbo Baggins in J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit. Bilbo is smoking his pipe, enjoying the quiet, carefree life in his comfortable Hobbit hole when twelve dwarves and the magician Gandalf appear to hire him as a burglar who will get the gold back from the dragon. Smaug. Another feature of the call is that the journeyer is frequently provided with a guide or teacher. Moses is led by a pillar of cloud and column of fire; Dante is led first by Virgil, then by Beatrice; Luke Skywalker has Obe Wan Kenobe, and later, Yoder; Bilbo has Gandalf. In the apocryphal book of Tobit, young Tobiah is guided by a man named Azariah who turns out to be the angel Raphael in disguise.

The land in which the adventure takes place is not the world of everyday experience but a realm which can be called the mysterium: a supernatural world of wonder and beauty as well as terrifying dangers. Entrance into this “otherworld” is usually marked by the crossing of some kind of threshold. Water frequently is characteristic of these thresholds. So Parsifal crosses over a stream on a bridge. Jason and the Argonauts set out on the sea in search of the golden fleece. Jonah is swallowed by a fish and taken down to the bottom of  the sea. Joseph is seized by his brothers and thrown into a well. Another threshold image is the dark forest as at the beginning of Dante’s Divine Comedy, and, once again, the journey of Parsifal. Another whole group of stories involves the descent into hell, or the underworld: Odysseus, Aeneas, Psyche, Ishtar/Inanna, the Canaanite god Baal and the Egyptian god Osiris, and even Christ. All these images of dark mysterious passages signify that the hero is entering fabulous realms where all sorts of wonders may take  place. At this crucial point many of the stories have a battle with a dragon or some other hostile force which seeks to block the hero’s advance. For example, the Babylonian Gilgamesh must confront the monster Humbaba who guards the entrance to the Cedar Forest and travelers to Hades must get past the three-headed dog Cerberus. When Moses begins to answer his call, God himself appears as a demonic force which tries to kill him (Exodus 4:24-26)! Finally, we may note a comical treatment of the motif in the film Star Wars where the episode in the bar, with all kinds of bizarre creatures, gives Luke a taste of the strange new world he is about the enter.

Once the journey has begun, the protagonist faces a whole series of tests and ordeals. For example, Oedipus solves the riddle of the sphinx; Odysseus must resist the seductive song of the sirens; Luke Skywalker has to confront Darth Vader and resist the dark side of the Force; Siegfried must penetrate a wall of fire to awaken the sleeping Brunhilde; Jason must plant a field with dragon’s teeth which immediately grow into terrible warriors; and Christ as well as Buddha undergo their temptations. The recounting of these tests is intrinsically exciting and storytellers often went to great lengths in elaborating. So a whole series of these ordeals may appear as in the stories of Psyche, Odysseus, and Hercules. Nor are the various protagonists always completely isolated in their endeavors, for there are frequently helpers who provide advice and guidance. Thus Moses is helped by Aaron and his father-in-law Jethro; the blind Oedipus is led by his daughter Antigone; a bird talks to Siegfried; Jason benefits from the magical power of Medea and Luke Skywalker has Han Solo, Chewbaca, Yoder and a host of other helpers. These helpers sometimes provide a magical weapon or other objects endowed with special power. Accordingly, Arthur has the sword
Excalibur and Luke has his father’s light-saber. Parsifal too is given a special sword by the Fisher King. Finally, it is interesting to note that the help provided to the hero sometimes comes from the most unexpected sources such as the ants which help Psyche sort out a huge pile of mixed seeds and the walking, talking trees which rescue Frodo in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.

The climax of the journey, at the bottom of the diagram, may take the form of obtaining a precious object such as the golden fleece (Jason and the Argonauts), a ring of power (Bilbo Baggins, Siegfried), a healing elixir, or the Grail itself. Often the quest culminates in union with a person of the opposite sex who may even be divine. So Psyche is wed to the god Eros and is herself transformed into a goddess. The yearning for union with the Beloved is a frequent theme in mystical poetry such as the Catholic saints Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross, as well as the Sufi saint Jalaliddin Rumi. Yet another way in which the journey culminates is the atonement and reconciliation with a parent. The best example here is the death of Christ and his “descent into hell” which appeases the anger of God the Father and effects the forgiveness of sins. The motif is also found, though perhaps in more subtle fashion, in Psyche’s relationship with Aphrodite, between Brunhilde and Wotan, Telemachus’ successful search for his father Odysseus, and the conclusion of the book of Job. Interestingly enough, in the Return of the Jedi, the third film of the Star Wars series, reconciliation takes place between Luke Skywalker and the evil father Darth Vader who is, in a sense, redeemed at the end.

Having attained the goal of the quest, the protagonist has still another step to take: the return to the world of ordinary reality. This is an absolutely indispensable development, for without it the broader community would derive no benefit from the boon obtained in the quest. It is this final dénouement  which guarantees that the hero is not just an isolated individual, but part of a greater whole. Sometimes this return is quite straightforward such as the case of Odysseus who finally reaches Ithaca, which he had left 20 years earlier, or Bilbo and Frodo who come back to Hobbiton. Aeneas, on the other hand, at the end of his journey, is in a different geographical location, but since this place is the new settlement for his people, he has in a deeper sense “come home.” As we will see, Parsifal too at the end of his journey is in a different place. But since he is joined by his wife and children, and since he makes provisions for the practical administration of his this-worldly responsibility, he has truly come back to the real world and the broader human community.

Many variations occur in the specific details of the return. If the boon has been obtained against the will of the supernatural powers which guard it (for example, Prometheus’ theft of fire from the gods), the return might well involve the flight of a hero with hostile forces in pursuit. Or, if the original threshold crossing required the death of the protagonist, as in the descent of Christ, then the return involves a resurrection. However the return is effected, the complete journey ends in blessings for the wider community. So with Parsifal’s attainment of the Grail quest, the Fisher King is healed and the greening of the wasteland takes place. Luke Skywalker saves the Rebel Forces from the Empire. Aeneas and Moses establish a homeland for a people. Tobiah heals his father’s blindness and, through his marriage, brings renewed hope for the Jewish community of the Diaspora. Joseph’s journey began involuntarily because of the hostility of his brothers. But at the end, he learns a nonjudgmental compassion and saves his family from starvation because of famine. And of course, through the resurrection of Christ, the whole world is redeemed.

Now that we have gone through the whole journey cycle, we need to ask what all of this signifies. For the journey is a metaphor pointing to psycho-spiritual realities. In other words, what we are actually talking about is an inner journey, and the threshold which we cross takes us into a vast unexplored realm of the Unconscious. Both the demonic terrors and the awe-inspiring wonders which we encounter are actually parts of ourselves which we have not as yet become fully aware of. As to the goal of the quest, whether it be the Grail, the beloved, the water of eternal life, that too is within us and so, in a sense, something we already have but are not fully in touch with. But if we are willing to answer the call and undergo whatever trials we might meet, we will experience the transformation that leads to wholeness, oneness with the true Self. Here the potentialities of each person come to fruition as he or she becomes that unique individual which no one has ever been before and which no one else will ever be. This is why the object of the journey can be symbolized by the pearl of great price for which one would sell every other possession. Because if you do not answer your call, this potentiality will be lost to the universe, and there is no way it could ever be reclaimed. In Wagner’s operatic version of Parsifal, the foolish boy, on first hearing of the Grail “mistakenly” thinks it is the name of a person and he asks, “Who is the grail?”  His mistake is paradoxically wise. For the question gets right to the heart of the matter. The answer is, “You are the Grail.”