For Tuesday, January 5, 2016:
“Where there is consciousness, there will be myth.”
Rollo May, THE CRY FOR MYTH
I suggest the import here changes if we switch the order of Rollo May’s words. If we say ‘Where there is myth, there will be [or (editor’s note) ‘there is’] consciousness,’ we lay the foundation for Aristotle’s assertion that “The friend of wisdom is also a friend of myth.”
It is important for writers in any genre — and, I believe, for humankind in general — to know our mythologies, those of our own cultures and those of others. Are we familiar with the Greek and Roman myths? The Norse myths? Native American myths? Those of Africa and Latin America, Polynesia, Russia, Japan and other Asian countries? Other mythic stories of the world? The myths in the Bible, both in the Hebrew and Christian covenants? If not, I suggest we need to be.
The mythologies of the world serve as something of a GPS for our lives. Not only do our own myths help us navigate the particular streets and neighborhoods of our daily lives and societies, but they broaden our perspective to help us understand those of other peoples.
We find how similar we are to each other, usually much more so than we are different. We come to see, for just one instance, that stories from the ancient Celts in Britain still survive in the stories and songs in the mountains of Appalachia in the U. S. We discover the thrill of yet another Creation story of yet another culture, another civilization.
One of the things I worry about is that the children of today are not growing up hearing stories on a porch on a summer night or around a campfire. I worry that young people are so literally attached to their technological devices, they won’t have the experience of the age-old and newfound wisdom of their communities to rely on as they try to make their way through life. People nowadays don’t even look each other in the eye. Instead they’re looking down at their devices, even when families are together around a table (which begs the question, are they really together?).
As storytellers, as poets, dancers, painters, photographers, songwriters and screenwriters, and other artists, we owe it to the world – and, I believe, we owe it to ourselves – to immerse ourselves in the wisdom of the myths, of the lives and peoples, that have come before us. Then we must build on them and add our own stories to pass down to our young people, so they will be able to create new porches and new campfires for a new time.