Modern Mythology

Freedom is no story.

Modern Mythology persues the question: How do we heal the world soul of the harms caused by monotheistic patriarchal power structures? You know, dominion over nature, the animals of the land, the birds of the air, the fish of the sea, indigenous peoples, and of course, women.

We examine the intersection of myth, politics, and history through personal and collective narratives.

Every level of the human psyche is mythic, operating from some ingrained story—the macro experienced through the micro. History, the myth we tell ourselves about the past, is political. Even the familial is political, too. Ancient zealots didn’t just burn books—they burned whole libraries. Recent book bans and other attempts at censorship are blatant attempts to control the narrative.

Ours is a myth of domination. Make no mistake, men are just as traumatized by that as women are. We all need to break free.

We are a half-thawed piece of meat from the deep freeze, sitting in the sink. The bone marrow is the last to thaw. As the crystals melt, images evaporate like steam into the air.

Our patriarchal terror feels like shards of ice, needle-sharp, embedded in my tissue. If I move at all, they shatter. It smells like my childhood home, like hot summer nights listening to my parents in the throes of another life-and-death struggle over whose worldview would dominate. Who would win and who would be shamed? Which of them would present their soft, white throat to the other in a gesture of submission, as an offering of love? Their battles were epic and public. The neighborhood was on the edge of their seats, fingernails in their mouths as they gossiped.

Someone is going to die over there.

As it turns out, you do have to die to get off the karmic hamster wheel. As we start telling the truth, who we thought we were dies. That’s the good news. But it means facing all the harm we have caused and making amends where possible. Unfortunately, my father took that too literally. He just wasn’t willing to face that music. I don’t blame him. As it turns out, the fear of death makes that surrender pretty damn near impossible. But I am living proof that it can be done.

As we, collectively in the U.S. and the world, dismantle this patriarchal dominance myth, another part of our psyche is fighting like hell to strengthen it, make it more solid, more true, and haul us back to the good ole days.

It’s the story of the apocalypse - the slow unveiling of the corruption that has haunted the U.S. since our founding: the displacement of indiginous communities, followed by genocide; slavery and its legacy; the mass destruction of natural landscapes; the slaughter of whole populations of animals like buffalo and wolves - and of course, the relentless and ruthless domination of all things female.

The proscenium curtains part, reveal something, and close again. We’ve caught glimpses of our structural rot for at least the last 50 years: the sexual pedaphile scandal that rocked the church, the education scandle because our kids can’t read or understand basic math, the banking scandals that sent the whole world into economic depression, the commercilization of and the subsequent unreliability of our news media, the calculated stuffing and bribery of the Supreme Court, and the resulting dark money in our elections. The political scandals alone show how much jeopardy the corruption we have allowed has put us in.

The story is racing to a climax, which makes it seem like time is speeding up. What’s escalating, though, is the story. Time, love, presence, and reality have not changed. You can still find reality if you take a moment and breathe into it. It helps if you ask to be shown. Ask a tree; they know.

But when the worldview shifts, when our underlying myths change, people die in droves, states rise and fall, wars break out, and borders shift. Can you lose your life because of a myth? You bet your sweet bippy, you can.

So, what are these myths that sparkle with numinosity—theirs, mine, yours—collective and personal— from what ether do they come? What images stink like low tide after the water recedes, revealing them flopping on silvered sides? What is this myth’s organizing principle? What are the smaller, cultural stories, or the even smaller, but no less critical, familial ones? Our sacred cows? The gods we worship? How do we free ourselves from this sticky tar called domination?

And what about that mythical being, the god who insists he’s the only god? That jealous and angry war god, who claims dominion over nature, indigenous and black peoples, and women? Where does that story, and the harm it causes, live? And when it melts into thin air with the ice caps, what essence does it leave? What do our modern myths tell us about the nature of reality and the best ways to move through it? For, as I often have to remind myself, no one gets out of here alive. 

Two questions and one prayer can help.

The questions:

1. Who are you?

   If you answer that you are a man or a woman, a mom, a dad, a nationality, a lover, or a writer - any body-related role or function, ask yourself again: And if you are not that, who are you? Follow the inquiry until you reach a quality of the divine: presence, love, consciousness… There you are!

2. What do you want?

   Answer honestly. Do you want money, a lover, _____________ (fill in the blank )? Whatever your answer, ask again. And what would that give me? For the longest time, my answer was that I want money. And what would that give me? Safety. What would safety give me? Peace. And freedom. And all the other qualities combined.

   If the answer isn’t a quality of the divine (love, joy, beauty…), keep asking.

The prayer: I’m willing to feel this.

This isn’t easy or comfortable, and that’s why most people won’t do it. A prayer like that causes circumstances. But we can no longer stand around the barbecue, grilling Costco steaks, and pretending everything will be all right.

For the times, they are a-changing.