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Lit & Comp:
Hero’s Journey Independent Reading
Lit & Comp: Hero’s Journey Independent Reading Packet
Preview Questions
The Rite of Passage (review)
1. What are the three stages of the Rite of Passage?
2. How are the Rite of Passage and The Hero’s Journey similar? How are they different?
3. What happens if people in society break certain rituals (such as violating driving rules or changing
holiday traditions)?
Joseph Campbell
1. Campbell calls the hero’s quest a monomyth. What is the significance of “mono”?
2. The Belly of the Whale refers to the abyss. What does it symbolize?
3. Carl Jung’s work suggests that “we may see a person as heroic not so much because she is heroic,
but because we need her to be heroic.” What do you think about his statement? Is Jung’s statement
on society’s view on heroes why society idolizes sports figures and movie stars?
4. How do YOU define a hero? How does your initial definition relate to Campbell’s archetype of the
Hero’s Journey?
Gawain and the Green Knight
1. What was Gawain’s Call to Adventure?
2. What was his talisman?
3. How does the Woman as Temptress concept play out in this story? How do you feel about women
being thought of as temptresses?
4. How is Gawain a classic example of the hero’s journey?
5. What does Gawain learn? What is his “gift”?
Legend of the Buddha (560 BC -- Siddhartha was Hindu originally)
1. What were the two choices Siddhartha’s father had for his child’s life? Why do you think he chose
the path of being a great ruler? What did the father do to make sure this would happen?
2. Why did Siddhartha reject the plan to become a great ruler? How does this fit with the Rite of
Passage concept that even though something may be painful or difficult, adolescents are eager to
go on the journey?
3. What other stories / religions / cultures also have stories of saviors who battle evil, deal with selfdenial, and so forth?
4. Define these concepts explored in “The Legend of Buddha”:
Karma
Nirvana
Impermanence
Non-Attachment
Demeter and Persephone
1. Whose quest is more significant, Demeter’s or Persephone’s?
2. How does this version of the myth empower women?
Anti-Hero
1. What is an anti-hero?
2. What do we owe anti-heroes?
Call Refused
1. When someone refuses a call, what exactly are they refusing?
2. Why do we need their stories?
The Hero’s Journey Independent Reading Quiz is scheduled for __________.
The format is short essay/written response and is worth 20 points.
Study these concepts from all of the readings in this independent Reading Packet:
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Hero’s Journey Key Terms (including call refused and anti-hero)
Know 8 Steps of the Hero’s Journey
Review Joseph Campbell Step-by-Step (esp. Belly of the Whale)
Definition of monomyth
Concepts of impermanence and non-attachment
All stories: “Buddha,” “Gawain,” and “Demeter and Persephone”
The Eight Steps of The Hero’s Journey (CTCARTAR)
9th grade version
1.)
Call to Adventure
The initiate feels compelled to leave to find something or fulfill something that is lacking in his life.
2.) Crossing the Threshold
Threshold guardians (parents, spouses) may try to hold back and protect the initiate, but the initiate crosses
over from the Known World to the Unknown World, anyway.
A mentor and helpers may assist with the entrance into the Unknown.
3.)
Challenges and Temptations
In the Unknown World, all the rules change.
The initiate is faced with physical and psychological challenges.
Challenges may strike his weaknesses, forcing change and growth.
Refusing the Call usually happens here (if the initiate cannot go on).
4.)
Abyss
The initiate must face the greatest challenges or fears, alone.
Must fully surrender to the quest.
A sort of “death and rebirth” takes place.
5.)
Revelation
There is a sudden, dramatic change in the way the initiate views life.
Like an epiphany, the revelation may help the initiate get through the abyss.
The revelation may take place before, during, or after the abyss.
6.)
Transformation
The initiate is now transformed and begins to act like a “hero.”
The transformation may be physical or mental.
7.)
Atonement
The newly transformed hero must accept his new persona.
He must be “at one” with himself.
Now the initiate is truly a “hero.”
8.)
Return Home
The hero must return to the Known World, as a wiser and stronger person.
The hero may “give back” to the homeland (gifts, knowledge).
He may or may not be understood or accepted.
The Hero’s Journey: Key Terms
based on the work of Joseph Campbell

Initiate:
The young, inexperienced person who is
about to embark upon an adventure (not yet
a hero).

Rite of Passage:
A time period or experience a young person must go through
to mature into adulthood or responsibility.

Mentor:
An advisor, who is usually older and wiser. May guide, protect,
or help the initiate during the journey.

Quest:
The challenge, journey, or object the initiate is seeking.

Talisman:
An object given to the initiate that may offer protection or give
special powers.

Threshold:
An entering point; beginning of something new.

Abyss:
A bottomless pit; lowest depth; hell.

Anti-Hero
A person who goes on a journey, but is motivated by evil
rather than good.

Call Refused
The initiate either does not accept the call or turns back before
completing the cycle.

Monomyth
Another name for “The Hero’s Journey.”
Analysis of the Hero Pattern: A Brief History
While a number of 19th century mythologists
and folklorists studied the similarities in heroic
stories from around the world, it wasn’t until the
early 20th century that researchers tried to
understand why hero stories were similar. In this
deeper analysis, four scholars stand out: Otto
Rank, Lord Raglan, Carl Jung, and Joseph
Campbell. Each approached the journey pattern
with a different philosophy: Rank used Freudian
analysis, Raglan espoused the myth-ritual theory
of Sir James Frazer; Jung explored their
archetypal, subconscious implications, and
Campbell employed a variety of philosophies
including Jungian psychology, Eastern
philosophy, and anthropology.
Otto Rank
Otto Rank (1884-1939) was perhaps the first
scholar to develop a theory of the heroic journey
pattern based on its psychological origins and
meanings. Rank was a close friend and follower
of Sigmund Freud. As a result, his analysis of
hero myths reflects Freud’s theories and his own
belief that the universality of the hero pattern is
a result of the commonality of the human
psyche. He felt that to understand the formation
of hero myths, one must go back to their
ultimate source: the individual imagination. For
Rank, there was only one tool for this: Freud’s
psychoanalytic method.
In The Myth of the Birth of a Hero (1909),
Rank analyzed and compared variants of the
heroic myths and dreams. This relationship led
Rank to interpret the heroic myths in the same
way that Freud interpreted dreams, with a focus
on early childhood and myth as a fantastical
fulfillment of the Oedipal wish. In this context,
the hero becomes an innocent victim of his
noble parents or of fate, and he becomes heroic
not by winning the throne but by killing his
father. To develop this theory, Rank looked at
fifteen hero stories, all from the west and all
male. The pattern he developed included these
elements:
1. the hero is born of distinguished, often
noble, parents,
2. difficulties precede his conception
(continence, barrenness, prohibited
relationship)
3. a prophecy cautions against his birth because
his life poses a danger to his father or some
authority,
4. he is surrendered to water in a box of some
sort,
5. he is saved by animals or peasants,
6. when he is grown, he finds his true parents,
7. he takes his revenge on his father and is
acclaimed a hero, and
8. he finally achieves rank and honors, often
assuming rule.
Rank made significant contributions to the
study of hero myths, but his orthodox Freudian
views limited his model in many ways. For
example, like Freud’s psychological model,
Rank’s heroic pattern focused only the first part
of life, forcing him to ignore such great, adult
mythic heroes as Odysseus and Aeneas. In
addition, Rank’s pattern did not even match all
of his own examples. In only four of Rank’s
myths does the hero kill or cause the death of
his father and in only four others does the hero
marry his mother. Despite this, Rank did lay the
groundwork for later study.
Lord Raglan
Lord Raglan, the title given Fitzroy Richard
Somerset, was an English nobleman and
folklorist. He developed a theory of hero myths
which relied on the work of British
anthropologist Sir James Frazier. In The Hero: A
Study in Tradition, Myth and Drama (1936),
Raglan argued that all myths were tied to rituals
and that mythic heroes were not real people,
but fictional characters created in stories as the
narrative component of rituals.
Raglan studied twelve hero stories, all from
the west, including Oedipus, Theseus, Romulus,
Hercules, Joseph, and Moses. He concluded that
the fact that “the life of the mythic hero can be
divided up into a series of well-marked features
and incidents…strongly suggests a ritual
pattern.” He developed a heroic pattern that
included twenty-two stages related to three
significant periods in the hero’s life, all
connected with ritual or rites of passage:
incidents connected to birth, incidents
connected with his accession to the throne, and
incidents connected to his death.
Incident related to his birth
1. The hero’s mother is royal and usually
virgin;
2. His father is a king or great ruler, and
3. may be a close relative of his mother.
4. The circumstances surrounding his birth
are unusual, and
5. he is regarded to be the son of a god.
6. At birth someone, usually his father or
maternal grandfather, attempts to kill
the child, but
7. the child is saved and taken to a safe
place.
Incidents related to his accession to power
8. The hero is raised by foster-parents in a
far country.
9. His childhood remains a mystery, but
10. at adulthood, he return to (or goes to) his
future kingdom.
11. There, he wins a great victory over the
king and/or a giant, dragon, or savage
beast.
12. He marries a princess, who is often the
daughter of his predecessor, and
13. he becomes the king.
14. He rules uneventfully for a period of
time, and
15. prescribes laws, but
16. eventually, he angers the gods and/or his
subjects, and
17. is driven from both his throne and his
city.
Incidents related to his death
18. He suffers a mysterious death,
19. Often on top of a hill
20. His children, if he has any, do not
succeed him.
21. His body is not buried, but nevertheless
22. He has one or more holy sepulchers.
Raglan believed that hero stories, because they
are so similar, cannot be historically accurate, or
at least cannot be proven. He felt that an
individual hero (i.e., Buddha or Jesus) might
have been real, but that mythical elements were
added to his biography to honor him or to
emphasize his heroic nature. Mythogizing was a
ritualistic way to honor the hero.
Carl Jung
Carl Jung (1875-1961) saw the hero, and all
myths, as projections of unconscious archetypes.
According to Jung, life has “engraved”
experiences into our subconscious where they
become “forms without content” but with the
potential to trigger specific actions or
perceptions. He called these potential ways of
being “archetypes,” which, in the right situation,
we project onto our environment.
In the heroic myths, the hero is a projection
of divine or semi-divine qualities onto a
character so that the character appears more
than human. In real life, because archetypes
tend to appear as projections on people in the
immediate environment, the hero appears as
possessing greater personal qualities than he or
she truly has. Thus, when we create a heroic
myth, we don’t begin with a hero, but with the
archetype of the hero which is projected onto a
person or into a situation. We then “shape” the
person and his or her history to conform to our
archetypal need. The hero myth, then, is a
manifestation of material which already exists in
the unconscious, so what is symbolized is not
the subject of the myth, but the heroic
archetype (representing our own needs)
projected onto the subject.
As a manifestation of unconscious activity,
the hero myth reveals the unconscious. For Jung,
myths are the interface between our conscious
awareness and our unconscious drives and
needs. They open the unconscious to us in one
direction and open us to the unconscious in the
other. A myth is effective when it engages us
emotionally and resonates with some part of our
personality. The hero, for example, arouses the
heroic side of our personality, stimulating us
toward action.
Projected archetypes can be helpful or
destructive. If recognized for what they are,
messengers of our unconscious, they can guide
us to freedom. If unrecognized, they isolate us
from our environment. The projection becomes
“real,” blocking us from the reality of our own
lives. We may, for example, see a person as
heroic no so much because she is heroic but
because we need her to be heroic. Our need
causes us to superimpose a heroic image on the
person, causing us to ignore or reject evidence
to the contrary. Politicians and advertisers know
this need only too well and work to elicit the
heroic archetype to manipulate or exploit.
Projections can make it nearly impossible for us
to see what is real. “The more projections are
thrust in between the subject and the
environment,” Jung writes, “the harder it is for
the ego to see through its illusions.”
In this archetypal view, the journey in the
first half of life is a quest to break free of the
projections (illusions) of archetypes. A powerful
example of this from mythology occurs in the
legend of Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha. As
he nears perfect understanding, Siddhartha sits
under the Tree of Enlightenment, engaged in a
psychological battle with Mara, god of illusion.
Siddhartha has resisted Mara’s challenges. Then
Mara issues his last challenge, questioning
Siddhartha’s right to attain enlightenment when
he has duties as the son of a king. Siddhartha
simply touches the earth with his fingers, a
gesture symbolizing his connection with reality
and his freedom from illusion: “Oh, house
maker!,” he tells Mara. “Now I have seen you!
You shall build no more houses (protective
projections or illusions) to hide the real world,
and Siddhartha becomes the Buddha.
In the second half of life, paradoxically, the
journey is atonement with the unconscious. Ego
consciousness has reached maturity, and the
individual is ready to begin integrating the ego
consciousness and the unconscious to form the
Self. So the goal of the second half of life is to
return to one’s unconscious, from which we
have been alienated.
Joseph Campbell
The most renowned researcher of the heroic
journey was mythologist Joseph Campbell. Like
Rank and Jung, Campbell’s model is based on the
theories of psychoanalysis, but it also includes
concepts from anthropology, and Eastern
philosophy. He viewed the heroic journey as
mythical and self-transcendent. Thus, they
symbols we encounter in these myths, if
properly understood, provide clues to
discovering the quests we need to take in life.
This view is thoroughly covered in his most
famous book, The Hero with 1000 Faces.
Although he felt that Jungian psychology
provided the best understanding of the heroic
journey, Campbell differed from Jung on several
points. One of the most important was that,
unlike Jung, who saw the journey beginning even
before birth and continuing until death,
Campbell limits his heroic pattern to the second
half of life. Early “quests” are only preparations
for adulthood, so Campbell’s would-be hero is
well settled in life when he or she hears the call
to adventure.
Campbell’s model of the heroic pattern
follows the three-stage pattern of the rite of
passage. First, the initiate is separated from his
known world. He then “breaks through” the veil
of secondary illusions and discovers a source of
enlightenment and power. Finally, a true hero,
he returns to the everyday world with a gift that
could transform his culture. Viewed in this
context, the hero becomes a symbol for “that
divine creative and redemptive image which is
hidden within us all, only waiting to be known
and rendered into life.” The quest of the
supreme hero is to realize this potential in all
people and to make it available to his culture.
To accomplish this goal, the hero goes on a
quest. Campbell synthesized quest myths into a
“composite adventure” or “monomyth”
involving three stages: separation or departure,
trials and victories, and return and reintegration
with society. The first stage, separation and
departure, begins with the Call to Adventure or
the hero’s awakening to his true adventure.
Campbell included in this stage Supernatural Aid,
the synchronistic aid that arises for someone
who has committed to his proper adventure.
This stage ends when the adventurer crosses the
first threshold into the unknown (called the Belly
of the Wale or the realm of night).
The middle stage is the trail of challenges.
Here, according to Campbell, the adventurer not
only faces challenges and temptations, but he
encounters the Goddess, who embodies both
nurturing, protective power and the temptations
to retreat into the protective arms of the
mother. Once through the challenges, the
adventurer reaches atonement or reconciliation
with the Father, a symbol of self-responsibility or
competence. Finally, the adventurer achieves
apotheosis or the attainment of “godlike” power
and the ultimate boon or gift that he will take
back to his society.
In the third stage of the journey, the new
hero returns to his culture. This stage, Return
and Reintegration, is integral to Campbell’s
heroic model if the flow of spiritual energy in the
culture is to be maintained. Indeed, from the
society’s point of view, the hero’s ability to
return with life-reviving energies justifies his
long absence from the community.
The return, however, may not be easy. Upon
completing the journey, the hero may see the
problems in his culture as too great to solve, so
he will not sacrifice his state of bliss for the
frustration and futility of the return. In other
cases, the hero, like Prometheus, may avoid the
transformation stage entirely, and seize the
boon by violence, trickery or chance, and return
with it to the world. In this case, the return will
be disastrous for the would-be-hero because the
powers he has destabilized will destroy him. A
final possibility would be that the hero will
return only to discover that she is ignored or
misunderstood. Such a hero may see her career
destroyed or even face the threat of death from
a culture that cannot face the truth the hero has
revealed.
Campbell also explored the implications of
refusing or ignoring the call to adventure. The
call is a message to us that our life is incomplete
or imbalanced. It represents a reality we must
face if we are to restore balance to our lives. We
can recognize the call because after we have
experienced it, the projects which had made life
meaningful have simply lost their importance. As
a result, the call may be rejected, but it cannot
be dismissed without devastating consequences.
Accepted, the call is a benevolent power that
will help us relinquish our egocentrism to allow
growth. Rejected, this power becomes a
monster. As Campbell wrote, “One is harassed
both day and night, by the divine being that is
the image of the living self within the locked
labyrinth of one’s own disoriented psyche.” We
protect ourselves with a wall of anger,
bitterness, and compulsiveness (i.e., work and
addictions). We lose the power to act in our own
interest. Our lives, not a wasteland, lose
meaning, and though we may accomplish great
material success, we cannot escape our own
self-rejection. Without rescue, we face
disintegration.
Campbell’s work on the heroic journey is the
most comprehensive to date, and it has added
immensely to our understanding of the pattern
and its place in life. However, his view that life’s
early quests are only preparation for adulthood
ignores the adolescent quest for self-identity,
which is the first great adventure a child faces.
Identity development is a heroic journey of the
highest order, especially in our standardized,
consumer-driven, postmodern world.
Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey Step-by-Step Summary
A Scholar’s Version
I. Departure
A. The Call to Adventure
The first stage of the mythological journey in which destiny summons the hero to some unknown
place. The adventurer may be called to attain some physical object or to go on some sort of
spiritual journey.
B. Refusal of the Call
Sometimes the would-be hero refuses the call due to feelings of inadequacy, fear, or some sense
of obligation to remain in his or her current state.
C. Supernatural Aid
When the hero accepts the call, a protective figure will often provide the adventurer with some
guidance or magic to help protect him or her during the journey.
D. The Crossing of the First Threshold
The hero makes the first step to cross from the known world into the unknown world. A
“threshold guardian” may be there to protect, warn, or hold back the hero.
E. The Belly of the Whale
This stage is the final crossing over from the old world and old self to the unknown world and
potential new self. The belly of whale symbolizes a death of the old self and rebirth of a new
self as he or she is swallowed up and taken into the “worldwide womb.”
II. Initiation
A. The Road of Trials
In the new, unknown world, the hero must survive a succession of trials, but often with the aid of
supernatural helpers. This stage of the hero’s journey is often the most entertaining part in the
literature.
B. The Meeting with the Goddess
At this point the hero enters into a sort of “mystical marriage” with a goddess to win the boon of
unconditional love. Or, the hero could simply experience a sort of “self-unification” that may
not be represented by a woman.
C. Woman as the Temptress
At this point, the hero may stray from his or her quest. The woman as the temptress is a
metaphor for the physical or material temptations in life. The temptress could be the “goddess”
or some other earthly temptation in life.
D. Atonement with the Father
This step is the most crucial point of the hero’s journey in which he or she may or may not
encounter a male figure. The hero must “die” through this ultimate encounter and lose the old
self, thus being transformed into a new self.
E. Apotheosis
The hero has now truly transformed into a new god-like state. He or she has moved beyond the
terrors of the world and is at peace.
D. The Ultimate Boon
All previous steps of the journey have led the hero to his or her ultimate goal, usually some elixir
of life, immortality, or a “holy grail.” The ultimate boon is the achievement of the goal.
III. Return
A. Refusal of the Return
Once the goal has been achieved, the hero must return to their known world with the new-found
wisdom or object. Sometimes, however, the hero refuses to return to that world of which he or
she is no longer a part.
B. The Magic Flight
Sometimes the hero is commanded by the gods to return to the known world with the magic
elixir. If, however, the trophy was taken against the gods’ wishes, the hero may need to flee
rom them. This stage can be an added adventure on the quest.
C. Rescue from Without
The hero may need outside assistance to return to the known world. Someone from the world
may have to come and get the hero because they need what the hero had found. Another
possibility is that the hero could again receive aid from supernatural forces.
D. The Crossing of the Return Threshold
The hero must return to the known world, while still retaining the knowledge or object that was
attained on the journey. Once there, that knowledge must be shared and the hero must integrate
back into the society from which he or she came. The difficulty lies in the fact that there are two
worlds known to the hero: the divine and the human. The hero now recognizes that, in a way,
the two kingdoms are actually one.
E. Master of the Two Worlds
The hero is able to pass in and out of the two worlds without contaminating the principles of
either one. This is a sort of transcendental state in which there is balance between the material
and spiritual world.
F. Freedom to Live
The hero, having completed the quest, is no longer afraid of death, and is now free to live
without regretting the past or fearing the future.
Sources:
Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1973.
Levine, Alan. “Heros Journey: Summary of Steps.” Maricopa Center for Learning and Instruction,
Maricopa Community Colleges. 19 Nov. 1999, http://www.mcli.dist.maricopa. edu/smc/journey/ref/summary.html.
Gawain and the Green Knight (A Hero’s Journey Story)
A Classic Legend from England
Retold by Susan Thompson
King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table had enjoyed many years of peace. Tales of their honor
and bravery had spread far and wide. No one dared to challenge the borders of the kingdom, so the knights’
days were often spent engaged in jousting and other games, especially at Christmas.
King Arthur particularly enjoyed such merrymaking. His love of fine tales of quests was legendary. It
was said that the king would not sit down to feast until he was promised the tale of a great adventure.
One year, the New Year’s Eve feast had just begun when the great doors to the hall were flung wide by
a huge green knight on a powerful green horse. The knight was perfectly proportioned, and many of the
women in the hall thought him uncommonly handsome. He wore no armor, helmet, or hauberk [a long shirt of
chain mail]. In his great hands he carried only a sprig of holly and an ax of monumental size. He wore a
beautiful mantle lined with white fur and embroidered with green jewels and gold thread. His handsome
features and fine silk garments dazzled the revelers [people at the party].
The Green Knight gave no greeting, but, instead, rode to the center of the hall.
“Who is lord of this castle?” he asked in a voice deep and fierce. “I would speak with him!”
“I am the one you seek,” Arthur replied, his hand falling unconsciously to the hilt [handle] of this
sword.
“I do not come to wage war,” said the Knight, stopping his horse before the dais [a raised platform]
where Arthur feasted with his greatest knights. “I propose only a game.”
“Come, sit, join us in our feast,” said Arthur. “We will talk of this game after we eat.”
“I do not wish to feast with you,” said the Knight. He turned toward the knights in the hall.
“I propose a challenge. I will give this fine ax, which has no equal, to any man who will strike one blow
against me unchallenged. If I survive the blow, this man will agree to meet me twelve months and one day
hence [from this time] to receive the same from me. Who among you will accept my challenge?”
King Arthur laughed. Surely, he thought, this was a joke. The Knights of the Round Table chuckled with
their king, but no one answered the challenge.
A look of scorn darkened the Green Knight’s face, and Arthur and his knights became uneasy. The
Green Knight spurred his horse round the room, his horse’s hoof beats echoing throughout the now silent hall.
“I have heard much talk of the Knights of the Round Table, of their bravery and chivalry. I see now that
it is only legend. Not one of you is brave enough to strike this blow.”
“Had I thought you were serious about this game, I would have been the first to accept your
challenge,” Arthur replied, his face red with shame and anger.
“Uncle...let me stand in your stead [place] and strike the blow,” said Arthur’s young nephew, Gawain.
Gawain was not yet a knight, but Arthur, seeing the conviction on the boy’s face and the embarrassment of
the other knights, commanded his nephew to kneel before him. Arthur knighted him, and Gawain turned to
the Green Knight.
“I accept your challenge!” Gawain’s voice rang throughout the hall. The other Knights of the Round
Table admired this young knight, who had shown more bravery than they who had more experience.
The Green Knight dismounted and bent so that his neck was clearly exposed. Gawain took up the ax,
raised it high and brought it down with such force that the Green Knight’s bones and tendons were cleanly
severed. His head rolled to the foot of the dais [platform] where King Arthur was seated. The knight’s headless
body straightened and strode to the dais where he lifted his severed head by its glittering green hair, and
tucked it beneath his arm. His eyes opened and gazed forth at Gawain.
“A fine blow, indeed,” his lips spoke. “Take heed of our agreement, Sir Knight. I am known as the Green
Knight of the Green Chapel. When you ride out to meet me twelve months hence to receive the reward you
surely deserve, you will find me there.” The Green Knight mounted his horse and rode so swiftly from the hall
that sparks flew from his horse’s hooves.
The hall was silent for a stunned moment before those gathered returned to their merry-making,
congratulating Gawain on his bravery.
The months of the year flew by swiftly, and soon it came time for Gawain to set out to find the Green
Knight. On All Saint’s Day, Arthur gathered his knights and the ladies of the court together for feasting and
fellowship. No one talked of the seriousness of Gawain’s quest, but teased and laughed with him, all the while
fearing that they would never see the young knight again.
After eating, Gawain formally asked the King if he might leave Camelot to go in search of the Green
Knight. With a heavy heart, Arthur gave his permission. Gawain prepared himself, dressing in his finest
garments. He heard mass [a Catholic church service], bid the members of the court goody-bye, and then
galloped away on his horse, Gringolet.
For seven weeks, Gawain rode through unknown lands searching for the Green Chapel. The road was
not easy, and he encountered great hardship. He fought many fierce challengers, several who might have slain
him if he had not been such a brave and noble knight. He traversed [crossed] rugged terrain and saw
wondrous sights. He slept where he could find little comfort, in his armor, in caves, even on solid rock. The
winter weather was merciless, hammering him with sleet and rain. Thus Gawain wandered, searching, in pain
and alone. On Christmas Eve, disheartened and nearly exhausted, he stopped by the side of a lonely trail, knelt
down and prayed for shelter and a place to hear mass. No sooner had he risen from his prayers than he saw a
castle in the distance. Encouraged, Gawain remounted Gringolet and rode to the castle.
The man who greeted Gawain at the door was fierce of face but gracious and cultured in his speech. He
invited Gawain to join his family for Christmas, and Gawain gratefully accepted. They feasted and made merry
that day and the next. On the third day, the lord of the castle asked Gawain what dark deed had driven him to
wander alone with such courage when he could have been feasting with the King.
“I am searching for the Green Chapel and the Green Knight who abides [lives] there. I have agreed ot
meet him there on New Year's, but I do not know where to find him. Do you know of this Green Chapel?”
“Aye. It is not more than a half day’s ride from here. Stay with us a little longer, rest, and on New Year’s
Day, ride out to meet this Green Knight.”
“This is good news you have given me!” laughed Gawain in relief. “My quest is at an end. I will gladly
stay, and I thank you for your hospitality.”
“Wonderful! Tomorrow you must rest, sleep late, and, after you eat, amuse yourself by keeping my
wife company until I return to the castle.” The lord paused a moment, thinking. “Sir Knight,” he said, smiling,
“let us make an agreement. Whatever I bring back from hunting in the woods shall be yours, and whatever
good fortune befalls you during the day, shall be mine in exchange. Let us strike this bargain, whatever good
or bad happens to either of us, we will honestly exchange.”
“I agree happily for it sounds like a pleasant way to pass the time,” said Gawain.
The next day, Gawain spent the day in the company of the lady of the castle. That afternoon, while
they sat before the fire, he was startled when the lady asked, “My lord, Gawain, do you not find me
attractive?”
“My lady, your beauty is beyond compare,” replied Gawain honestly.
“Then why have you not tried to win my heart?”
“You are indeed beautiful, my lady, and if you were not married to my gracious host, I would most
certainly woo you for myself,” Gawain replied.
“My lord has made everything in his castle available to you, Sir Knight,” said the lady.
Gawain did not wish to anger or insult his host by making amorous [loving] advances toward his wife,
but neither did he wish to hurt the lady’s feelings. “One kiss then,” he said, and the lady was satisfied.
When the lord of the castle returned home, he presented Gawain with a deer, and Gawain gave the
lord a kiss. The lord laughed lustily. “Indeed, that is good fortune, Sir Gawain.”
The second day went much as the first. The lord returned with a fox, and Gawain gave the lord the two
kisses that he had received that day. Again the lord laughed at Gawain’s good fortune.
On the third day, New Year’s Eve, Gawain sat before the fire with the lady of the castle. Her beauty
pleased him, and, as she rose to kiss him, warmth of feeling for her spread throughout his body. He felt
nothing but joy in her presence.
“I have enjoyed our time together, Gawain. I shall miss your conversation and handsome presence. Do
you not have a token that you might give me to remember you by?”
Gawain replied that he did not. The lady offered him a ring to remember her by, but Gawain refused it.
At last she brought forth a finely sewn girdle [undergarment] of green silk. Seeing that he was about to refuse
this gift also, she made light of its importance.
“This is but a mere scrap of cloth of little value. It’s the feeling that went into its making that makes it
special, for no man who wears it will ever be cut down by another of this world.”
Gawain realized that such a garment would be valuable protection for him when he went to face the
Green Knight. The lady pressured him to accept the girdle, and he consented. She asked that he always keep it
concealed [hidden], especially from her husband, and that he never tell anyone about its existence. Gawain
agreed that no one would know of it ever.
That night the lord returned with the spoils of his day’s hunting, and Gawain bestowed upon him three
of the sweetest kisses a man could give. He said nothing of the green girdle.
“By God, you have had happiness this day,” laughed the lord. They all sat down to dinner, and Gawain
graciously thanked his hosts for making his stay such a pleasant one. He asked the lord if he could provide a
guide to show him the way to the Green Chapel, and the lord agreed.
The world was swept with brewing storms that night as Gawain lay awake worrying over the
confrontation to come. At dawn he rose and asked for his horse and his armor. He donned [put on] the green
girdle beneath his mantle, not for its rich color or fine cloth, but for the protection it would provide when he
was unable to take up his sword to defend himself.
The morning was gloomy with mist as Gawain and his guide rode forth to the Green Chapel. Deep in
the forest, at the edge of a dark glade, the guide stopped.
“I have brought you as far as I dare,” said the guide. “Ahead lies the Green Chapel. As one who knows
you and has come to love you, I warn you to be careful, for the knight who dwells here is fierce and quick to
strike. Take a different road, Sir Gawain, and ride safely away from this place. I swear that I will tell no one that
you fled from this confrontation.”
“Thank you for your help and your good wishes,” said Gawain, “but I cannot turn back, for that would
make me a coward. Such an act would be unforgivable. This is my fate, and I will not evade it.”
After saying good-bye, Gawain rode into the clearing and saw the Green Chapel. It sat at the back of
the glade, in the shelter of two large oak trees. A tangle of ivy laced its rough stone walls, and its courtyard
was overgrown with herbs. It appeared deserted. “Such a gloomy, ugly place befits its master,” he thought.
“But I have agreed to this meeting, and God’s will be done. No matter what happens, I will show no fear.”
“Who is the master here?” Gawain called out. “Where is the one who agreed to meet me on this day?”
“I am here!” called a voice from the slope above Gawain. Gawain looked up, and there stood the Green
Knight.
“Shortly you will get what you deserve,” said the Green Knight before turning to continue sharpening
his ax with long, powerful strokes. Gawain had never seen a knight take such care or joy in the labor of
sharpening a weapon. While the rhythmic whirring of the ax stroking the whetstone clearly brought pleasure
to the Green Knight, the high-pitched sound sent a shiver down Gawain’s spine. Yet, no sign of fear showed
upon his face.
Soon the Green Knight emerged from a cavern carrying a great Danish ax with which to return
Gawain’s blow. So great in size was the ax that when Gawain saw it, he could not conceive of any mortal man
being able to lift it. The back of this neck began to tingle as he anticipated the blow to come.
“Gawain,” said the Green Knight, “you are a man of your word and I am pleased to see you. You have
timed your arrival perfectly, as I knew you would. Now, you remember our agreement. Take as little time to
prepare as I did when you gave your single blow that took my head. Remove your helmet.”
“Yes, you may strike your one blow, and rest assured it will meet with no resistance from me,” said
Gawain.
Gawain the Good removed his helmet and calmly bent forward, exposing this neck for the knight. The
Green Knight swiftly raised his ax and brought it down with such strength and ferocity that, had it met with
Gawain’s vulnerable neck, his life would surely have been forfeit. But, as the ax came down, Gawain looked
from the corner of his eye to see the shining blade descending and turned his shoulder at the last minute in
fear. The Green Knight, seeing Gawain flinch, stayed the blow.
“Gawain the Good, who is known for his great courage, who has never shown fear when confronted by
a host of foes, you are flinching in fear! Never would I have thought it of you. When I stood for your blow, no
fear did I show, never did I flinch. When it comes to courage, I believe that I am the better man,” said the
Green Knight.
“I will not flinch again, Sir Knight!” promised Gawain savagely. “You can be sure of that even though I
know that if you separate my head from my body, I cannot retrieve it and put it on again.” Gawain bent again
and no move did he make in any part of his body as he waited for the Green Knight’s blow to descend.
The Green Knight noted Gawain’s determined stillness. “In truth, I believe it is your own fear that you
fear most,” he said, almost gently. “Therefore, I will delay this no longer.”
The Green Knight again raised his ax and brought it down quickly. Gawain did not flinch, even when the
cold blade of the ax just grazed the skin of his neck. When he felt his blood trickle over his shoulders and saw it
dribbling to the ground, Gawain moved swiftly, jumping out of the reach of the Green Knight and his ax. He
quickly replaced his helmet, and held his shield before him.
“You have had your one blow, sir!” he said. “If you attempt another, I promise that it shall be returned
in full measure!”
The Green Knight laughed. “Come, Gawain, do not be so fierce. No one here has given you anything
that you did not deserve. The taunting I gave you when I sharpened my ax...was for the kiss you took from my
wife on the first day of our agreement. The blow from which you flinched was for the day you took two kisses.
The blow that wounded you was for the third day, when your honor failed, Gawain the Good. You returned
the three kisses, but the girdle you kept for yourself was none other than my own, made for me by my
beautiful wife. I know of every moment you spent in my castle while I was hunting, for I devised these tests for
you. I sent my wife to try you, and I must say, you did well.”
Gawain slowly lowered his sword and bent his head in deep shame. Suddenly he ripped off the
offending girdle and flung it at the knight.
“I have failed!” Gawain cried. “I have been a coward and have coveted [shown envy]. Fear of your
stroke has caused me to forsake in myself all that a knight should be: loyal and giving. I confess to being false
and afraid. Only your good will has let me win this day.”
“I assure you that any harm that I have suffered has quickly healed,” said the Green Knight, offering the
girdle back to Gawain. “Your sins are forgiven. You are indeed Gawain the Good, and I give to you this green
girdle. Wear it in good faith, Sir Knight, as a reminder of the challenge you faced at the Green Chapel.”
“I will wear it not for its beauty but to remind me of my fears and my deceit,” said Gawain, taking the
girdle. “When I feel proud of my accomplishments in battle, I will look upon this girdle and it will humble me.”
“Indeed, that is why I was sent to Camelot, to try your pride and to see if the tales that people told of
the Knights of the Round Table were true,” explained the Green Knight.
“What is your name, noble knight, so that when I tell this tale, I may tell them of you?” asked Gawain.
“That I will gladly tell you,” the Green Knight said. “I am Bercilak de Hautdesert.”
The two knights embraced, and then parted there in the cold. The Green Knight returned to his wife
and his castle, and Gawain ventured into the forest to begin the long journey back to Camelot.
Along the way, Gawain met with many adventures and won many victories. He slept in lodges or out in
the open. The wound on his neck healed quickly, and he took to wearing the green girdle as a baldric [belt
worn across the chest] tied under his left arm. He arrived safely at Camelot where the King and Queen greeted
him joyously and listened to his tales of adventure. Gawain gave an honest account of all that had befallen
him, including showing everyone present the scar on the back of his neck from the blow the Green Knight had
given him because of his deceit.
“I must wear this badge always,” Gawain told the King, “for nothing good befalls a man who hides from
his fears.”
The King offered words of solace [comfort] to his nephew. Members of the court also offered comfort
and agreed that henceforth the lords and ladies of the Brotherhood of the Round Table would wear bright
green baldrics in honor of Gawain the Good and his great quest.
The Legend of Buddha (A Hero’s Journey Legend)
Retold by Reg Harris
The Divine Child
The legend of Buddha begins more than 2,500 years ago in a region of northern India. Buddha was a
historical figure, the son of a regional king, but as happens with many heroes and saviors, the facts of his life
were enhanced with myth and symbol to make his life more meaningful to his followers.
Buddha was born in 560 B.C.E. According to tradition, he was conceived in his mother by the gods and
born of a “virgin” birth. He walked immediately, and wherever he stepped, a lotus flower grew. Buddha was
not called Buddha until much later in his life. His real name was Gautama, but he was better known as
Siddhartha, or “he who will achieve.”
Powerful King or World Savior
When Siddhartha was a child, his father wished to know his son’s fate. The king summoned the
Brahmans, the highest order of Hindu priests, to foretell the future. The Brahmans told the king that
Siddhartha’s life would take one of two directions. If he remained attached to the world, he would unify India
and become the country’s greatest king. However, if he abandoned the world, he would become not a king
but a world savior.
Siddhartha’s father wanted his son to become a great ruler, so he spared no effort to keep the Prince
attached to worldly things. Three palaces and forty thousand dance girls were placed at the prince’s disposal.
The king commanded that no ugliness intrude upon the boy’s world of beauty and pleasure. In particular, he
wanted the prince shielded from old age, sickness, and death. Even the use of the words “death” and “grief”
were forbidden.
Thus Siddhartha was raised in a world of luxury and pleasure, unaware of pain, suffering, and death. He
was an extremely handsome young man, and he married a neighboring princess at age sixteen with whom he
had a son.
Siddhartha had everything: wealth, power, and a beautiful family. In addition, as heir to his father’s
throne, he was destined for power and fame. Despite all this, however, Siddhartha began to feel a deep
dissatisfaction. He yearned for a life with deeper meaning.
The Four Passing Sights
One day, many years later, the prince decided to visit the town. His father ordered servants to go
ahead to clean and decorate the road and to remove any ugly or sad sights from his son’s path. The servants
did as they were told. Somehow, however, they overlooked an old man.
The man was crooked and trembling with age, and when Siddhartha rode by and saw him leaning on
his staff, he was astonished. He had never seen what years could do, and he realized that feebleness was the
fate of all who lived to old age.
On the prince’s next ride, the king extended his guard, but again his efforts failed. Siddhartha met an
incurable invalid, and he learned the suffering of pain and disease. On a third ride, the young prince
encountered a funeral procession, and he saw the impermanence of all life.
Finally, on a fourth ride, Siddhartha saw a Hindu monk with a shaven head, wearing a yellow robe and
carrying a beggar’s bowl. The monk told the prince that he had abandoned worldly concerns to pass beyond
suffering and joy. On that day, Siddhartha learned the possibility of freedom from the suffering of life.
The Impermanence of All Things
From these four passing sights, Siddhartha realized that impermanence and suffering were conditions
of all life. He realized that he could never find peace in physical pleasure and material objects. The music, the
dancing, the feasts, the royal processions and elaborate festivals only increased his discontent. The bright
flowers, the fragile butterflies, and the melting snows reminded him of the impermanence of all things.
Finally, Siddhartha decided to break free of sensual distractions, so he went to his father. “Everything
in the world is changing and transitory [temporary],” he said. “Let me leave to follow the call of the truth
seeker.”
His father refused. “You hold all of my hopes for the royal line,” he said. “I cannot let you throw that
away.”
“How can I continue to live here knowing that others are suffering?” Siddhartha said. “I must go.”
The Great Going Forth
To keep the prince from leaving, the king doubled the guards on the palace walls and brought in even
more distractions to convince his son to abandon all thoughts of leaving.
But the prince would not change his mind, and one night in his twenty-ninth year, Siddhartha made his
break, a break now known as “The Great Going Forth.”
In the early-morning hours he went to where his wife and son were sleeping and bade them both a
silent good-bye. Then he ordered the gatekeeper to bridle his great white horse, and the two escaped from
the castle and rode off toward the forest.
Reaching its edge by daybreak, Siddhartha changed clothes with the gatekeeper, who returned to
break the news to the family. The prince, dressed as a pauper [poor person], shaved his head and plunged into
the forest in search of truth and enlightenment.
The Search
Siddhartha was no longer a young prince. Now he wandered through India as Gautama, a monk and
beggar. During these years, he mastered yoga, meditation, and studied at a religious hermitage [monastery],
but religious studies did not teach him what he wanted to know. He left the hermitage and lived alone for six
more years. During that time he pushed poverty to the extreme.
One day, starving and near death, Gautama sat down to rest on the bank of a broad river. As he sat, a
young village girl named Sujata saw him and offered him a bowl of rice. Gautama accepted. That meal saved
his life.
Gautama ate the rice slowly, thinking about his experiences. He had not found happiness as a rich
prince, and he had almost died as a pauper. What, he wondered, had he failed to understand?
Then, as he sat, he heard voices. Looking up, he saw a raft floating by him on the river. On the raft an
old man was teaching a boy how to tune a stringed instrument.
“If you tighten the string too much, it will break under the strain,” he was saying. “If you don’t tighten
it enough, it will not make music.”
When he heard those words, Gautama realized that living at life’s extremes would not bring peace or
enlightenment. He saw that fulfillment in life was to be found only on the path of moderation.
The Immovable Spot
With that realization, Gautama knew that he was near to the enlightenment he sought, so he set off
for the town of Gaya in northeastern India, where he would find the tree of wisdom. The exhausting trip took
many days, but finally, one evening, he reached the sacred fig tree.
He spread fresh grass under the tree, seated himself, and vowed, “Here, on this seat, may my body
wither, my skin and flesh dissolve, if I rise before I have obtained enlightenment.”
The Battle with Mara
To achieve enlightenment, Gautama had to master the desires and impulses which chain the human
spirit to the material world. The struggle was not easy, for he had to battle Mara, the Evil One, god of death,
desire, and illusion.
Mara knew that if Gautama attained enlightenment, his own power over people would be broken, so
he went immediately to the sacred tree. He appeared before Gautama mounted on an elephant and carrying
weapons in his thousand hands. He was surrounded by his terrifying army, which stretched around him as far
as the eye could see. Gautama, however, remained unmoved. Then Mara attacked him, seeking to break his
concentration.
First, the Evil One tried sensual temptation. He displayed his beautiful daughters--Desire, Longing, and
Lust--surrounded by their attendants. They sang and danced before Gautama, but the mind of the Great Being
was not distracted. The daughters of Mara withdrew.
Then Mara attacked with fear. He hurled whirlwinds, rocks, thunder and flame, boiling mud, blistering
sands, and utter darkness against the Savior, but the missiles were transformed into flowers by the power of
Gautama’s perfection.
Finally, the Evil One challenged Gautama’s right to be on the Immovable Spot. “You are a prince. You
have a social duty to your people,” Mara challenged. “You have no right to seek liberation.”
But Gautama was not swayed. He simply touched the ground with his fingertips, asking the mother
goddess Earth to confirm his right to be where he was. She did so with a hundred thousand roars. At the
sound, Mara’s elephant fell to its knees in reverence, and Mara’s army disappeared.
Enlightenment
After defeating Mara, Gautama worked through the night, meditating on life and death, rebirth, and
on karma (the chain of cause and effect). Then, as the sun rose, he experienced perfect enlightenment.
Gautama now became the Buddha, the “awakened” or “enlightened” one. For seven weeks he
meditated on his experience, on life, and on nirvana, the state of freedom from pain, worry, and the
impermanence of the physical world.
Near the end of his meditation, a great storm raged for seven days. Naga Mucilinda, a giant cobra who
was King of Serpents, emerged from the roots of the tree to protect him. The serpent made a seat with his
body and a canopy of his outspread hood to shelter the Buddha from the storm.
Knowing that Buddha had achieved enlightenment, Mara tried one more temptation. This time he
appealed to reason.
“Who will understand truth as complex as that which you have discovered?” he asked Buddha. “What
you have experienced goes beyond words and human understanding. Why bother to spread this message
before uncomprehending eyes? Why not leave mankind to the devil and slip at once into nirvana?”
Buddha saw the truth in these words. People were slow to accept wisdom. Why sacrifice nirvana to
preach his message to those who could not understand or appreciate it?
As he considered, the Hindu gods approached, begging him to remain. “You must save humanity from
the hell of attachment and the sin of ignorance,” they said. “You hold the path to peace and spiritual
liberation.”
Buddha was persuaded to remain and preach, and Mara, seeing that he had lost, left Buddha’s life
forever.
Buddha’s Preaching
Buddha gave his first sermon at Benares, in the Deer Park. He taught life’s middle path as the way to
liberation.
“Avoid the unworthy life of pleasure and the useless life of fasting and poverty,” he told his monks.
“Perfection avoids life’s extremes. Follow the middle path.”
After that sermon, Buddha took his message throughout India. For forty-four years he preached
moderation and liberation, converting those who heard him to his new philosophy. He founded a religious
order and maintained a rigorous schedule of preaching and counseling.
Buddha Passes to Nirvana
One evening about 480 B.C.E., in the town of Kusinagara, Buddha ate dinner at the home of Cunda, a
village blacksmith and one of his disciples. Somehow, poison mushrooms got into his dish, and the Buddha fell
mortally ill.
Near death, he was taken to a grove of trees where his disciples had prepared a couch for him. Even as
he was dying, Buddha thought of others. In the midst of his pain he realized that Cunda might feel responsible
for his death.
“Tell Cunda,” he directed his companions, “that of all the meals I have eaten during my life, only two
stand out as exceptional blessings. One was the meal which enabled me to regain my strength so that I could
attain enlightenment. The other was Cunda’s meal, which is now opening for me the gates to nirvana.”
As their master suffered his last agony, many of the disciples wept, but Buddha comforted them.
“Do not say you have lost your master,” he said. “The doctrine that I have preached will guide you
when I have disappeared. Remember, all created things are impermanent. Work diligently for liberation.”
With these words, the Buddha’s journey ended, and he passed into eternal bliss.
The End of Eternal Spring
The Story of Demeter and Persephone (A Hero’s Journey Myth)
Retold by Reg Harris
In Search of a Wife
Hades, dark god of the Underworld, heard the sound of laughter from a nearby meadow. He reigned in
the two black horses that pulled his chariot, dismounted, and crept through the trees to the edge of the glade.
There he saw a group of maidens playing and picking flowers.
His eyes were drawn to the edge of the trees where a girl gathered flowers alone. Though he had not
seen her for years, he knew that this was Persephone, daughter of his sister Demeter. Her hair was corn gold,
like her mother’s, and she was tall and proud, a true child of gods. It was then that Hades, the lord of death,
fell in love with the daughter of life.
“Brother Zeus,” he said later that day on Mount Olympus, “I come to ask permission to make
Persephone my queen.”
“Were my consent all that you needed,” Zeus said, “you would have it. However, our sister would
never agree. Her daughter is her joy, a child of light.”
“I am too shy and humble to approach the girl,” Hades said, “yet I know that I cannot remain without
her.”
“I can neither hinder nor aid,” Zeus said, with a shrug.
Hades knew Zeus well enough to understand that he had given his approval. But Hades was
unschooled in the arts of love. In the end he fell upon a plan that was brutish but effective. He convinced
Gaea, his grandmother, to create a beautiful narcissus plant, which he placed in Persephone’s favorite
meadow. Then he waited.
A Kidnaping
Persephone was a child of life. She and her mother lived in Earth’s eternal spring, where grain grew
lush and full, and where trees bore sweet fruit without end. But it was in flowers that the girl found her
greatest joy. She loved to create new ones, paint them in dazzling colors, and then weave them into beautiful
bouquets. It was a golden time for her, yet as she grew older, she felt a stirring within her. She began to sense
that she was experiencing only one side of life, that there was more to discover and experience.
One afternoon, with her mother and a group of friends, Persephone returned to the isle of Sicily, to her
favorite spot for gathering flowers. As the other maidens played in the eternal bloom, Persephone and
Demeter talked quietly.
“Will I ever leave you, mother?” the girl asked.
“Leave?” Demeter was puzzled.
“Our life is beautiful,” Persephone said, “and I love you very much, but each day I feel a growing
discontent.”
“Persephone, what better life could you want?” Demeter asked, “We have sweet fruits, soft grasses,
and bright flowers. Trees give us shade and gentle breezes cool our skin. Life is complete.”
“I’m not sure that it is,” Persephone said. “I sense that there is more for me to know and understand. I
can’t explain.”
“Stop worrying,” Demeter said. “Run now to your meadow and bring back some of those wonderful
red flowers you painted on our last visit.”
Persephone hugged her mother and then jumped to her feet and disappeared into the trees.
Her meadow was not far, and when she reached it she began to gather her flowers. Then she paused.
Growing at the far edge of the meadow was a mysterious flower, one she had never seen. Its long leaves and
radiant gold and white blossoms beckoned her. Persephone ran to it, wondering how it had come into her
meadow.
Enchanted, she knelt and began to pick its blossoms. As she did, the ground beneath her trembled, and
a great chasm opened in the earth. Out of the darkness thundered a golden chariot drawn by two fiery black
horses. The driver was Hades, wrapped in his cloak of invisibility. He seized Persephone and carried her
screaming into his underworld kingdom.
Demeter’s Quest
Demeter heard her daughter’s cries and rushed to the meadow, but she was too late. The chasm had
already closed, leaving no clue to the girl’s whereabouts.
“I must find my daughter,” said the goddess. “I won’t rest until I do.”
Demeter began her search. For nine days and nights, with no food or rest, she wandered the Earth, a
torch in each hand, searching for Persephone.
On the tenth day, exhausted and discouraged, she remembered Helios, god of the sun, who sees
everything. He would know what had happened. Demeter traveled east, to the land of the rising sun, and
there she found Helios preparing for his daily journey across the sky.
“I saw nothing,” he told her.
“I know better than that,” Demeter said. “You see all. Tell me what you know.”
Helios hesitated, thinking of the anger he would incur from Zeus, but when he saw the wrath growing
in Demeter’s eyes, he feared the powerful goddess even more.
“It was Hades,” he said finally, “and probably with Zeus’ consent. He took your daughter to the
Underworld.”
Demeter Goes on Strike
Demeter was furious. In a rage, she returned to Olympus to confront her brother.
“Why are you so upset, sister?” Zeus said. “Hades will make a fine husband for our daughter.”
“I want her returned,” Demeter said. “She cannot live in a world without sun.”
“I can do nothing,” Zeus shrugged. “Take some time, dear sister. I’m sure that, once you reflect, you
will realize that this is a fine match for our daughter.”
Demeter left, refusing to return to Olympus. Instead, she wandered the earth, forbidding it to grow
anything. Slowly the fields of grain withered and died. Fruit trees became dry and bare. The earth was dying.
Drought and famine followed, and the human race was on the edge of death.
Zeus faced a dilemma. He was reluctant to confront his powerful brother, but he was too ashamed to
face his sister. He decided, finally, to try to persuade Demeter to do as he wished by sending a contingent of
gods with conciliatory gifts, begging her to return.
Demeter Stands Firm
Demeter considered her brother’s wishes, but despite the risks of angering the most powerful god, she
refused to yield. The earth would remain barren until her daughter was returned.
Faced with the earth’s ruin and the death of humanity, Zeus knew that he must return Persephone to
his sister. He sent for his messenger, Hermes.
“Go to the Underworld,” he told Hermes. “Tell Hades that Persephone has eaten nothing in the land of
the dead, she must return to her mother.”
Persephone is Released
Hades was heartbroken. He had offered Persephone every delicacy, but he had been unable to
persuade her to eat while in his kingdom. Though she had resisted his every overture, she had brought the
spark of love and life to his dark world. He felt the pain of losing one who is loved, and he realized what his
sister must be feeling at the loss of her daughter. Reluctantly he called Persephone to him.
“Your mother is sick over your loss,” he began. “She has challenged Zeus himself and has abandoned
her duties until you are returned. The world is near death. Zeus has commanded that you return.”
Persephone looked up. She was to be released, but the news did not bring the joy she would have
expected. She was still angry at being abducted, but she had come to find Hades strangely appealing. She
looked at him and saw the deep sadness in his eyes. For the first time she saw him as he was, without his
fearsome cloak of night and his mask of death. She saw a shy, gentle Hades, whose years of isolation had left
him unrefined and awkward.
“When do I return?” she asked.
“Zeus and your mother will be here soon,” Hades replied. He hesitated, looking at her gently. “I was
wrong to have taken you as I did, but I saw no alternative. I knew that neither you nor your mother would
consider a marriage with me and a life in the Underworld, away from the flowers and sunlight that are your
life.”
Persephone said nothing.
“Now you will be leaving,” Hades continued slowly. “You are the light which balances darkness, the life
which countervails death. You are in all ways the melody to my harmony, and though you have hated me, I will
miss you as much as your mother misses you now.”
“I have not found my stay here unpleasant,” Persephone said, “I have enjoyed your generous gifts, but
I have also found peace here. With my mother I rejoiced in life alone, in the unfading beauty of the flowers
and trees. Now I see that life was unbalanced. I think I sensed that, even before you brought me here.”
The Pomegranate Seeds
Hades looked up, a sudden spark of hope in his eyes. “This may be a place of darkness and death,” he
said, “but darkness and death are only different aspects of light and life. They cannot be separated. Perhaps
Demeter and I have lived apart too long. You living here has restored a balance. It has brought the naturalness
of death to her world and the promise of life to mine. Is that such a loathsome existence?”
No, it wasn’t, Persephone thought to herself. While in the underworld she had come to love the dark
peace, illuminated only by the flickering torch light. Suddenly, she sensed a flow in life much deeper than the
bright colors of her flowers or the dark shadows of Hades’ kingdom. He was right. There was a harmony in her
being here.
“Marry me,” Hades urged, as he sensed her changing feelings. “You shall have the power of the Queen
of the Underworld. Together we shall restore to the world a balance of darkness and light.”
He paused, watching the girl. Then he reached to a cornucopia at the side of his throne, selected a
pomegranate and broke it open, exposing its bright red seeds.
“You have not eaten here,” he said, offering the pomegranate to Persephone. “You must be very
hungry.”
Persephone looked at the fruit. To eat food in the Underworld would force her to remain there, but
not to eat it would leave a deeper hunger unsatisfied. She looked into Hades’ eyes, saw the darkness, saw the
seed of life in death, and saw her own image reflected there as if in a mirror.
Slowly she extended her hand. Hades held it gently in his own and placed the pomegranate in her
upturned palm. There was strength in his grasp, a power which both terrified and delighted her.
“Will you eat the fruit of the Underworld?” he asked again. “Its seeds bring knowledge and insight. Be
my queen, Persephone, and gain understanding beyond life and death.”
Persephone grasped the fruit in one hand and with the other plucked out four blood-red seeds. As she
looked into Hades’ eyes, she placed the seeds in her mouth and bit into them. The rich, sweet juice filled her
mouth with flavor.
“My queen,” Hades said, pressing her hand to his lips.
Demeter’s Pain
“But why?” Demeter cried, clinging to Persephone. “Why did you eat the fruit here? Hades must have
tricked you.”
Mother and daughter stood in Hades’ garden. From a distance inside the palace, Hades and Zeus
watched.
“Mother,” Persephone said, her voice no longer the voice of a young girl, “Hades did not trick me. I
chose to eat the seeds. Yes, this is a world of darkness and death, just as yours is a world only of light and life.
One cannot exist without the other. They are aspects of one experience, each incomplete without the other,
just as I was incomplete until now. I belong here, Mother. I am a child of the sun and the flowers, but that is
only half of my life. Here I find harmony and peace.”
Demeter looked at her daughter and saw not the child she had lost, but a young woman who had
tasted the fruit of both life and death. She knew that Persephone was right, but she grieved for the loss of the
daughter who was a part of her.
“I understand your sorrow,” said Hades as he joined them. “I have lived most of my life without love,
and now that I have known it, I cannot let it go. But, sister, I feel your grief and offer you a compromise.
Persephone shall spend four months of the year with me, one for each pomegranate seed she ate. During that
time she will give me light and joy to carry me through her absence. The other eight months she will spend
with you.”
Demeter looked at her brother, her hatred turning to a grudging respect. “I accept your compromise,”
she said, “but I will always grieve for my daughter when she is away from me.”
“I understand,” Hades nodded. He turned to Persephone. “Go now. The world needs your light to
restore its balance and life. When you return to me, you shall restore life to my world.” He kissed her gently
and then watched as the two women left the kingdom of darkness.
So it was that the child of spring brought balance to life and the seasons to the earth. When
Persephone is with her mother, Demeter rejoices and the earth rejoices with her in the symphony of spring
and warmth of summer. But while she is in the underworld, Demeter grieves and the world grieves with her,
bringing fall and winter, when the sun loses its warmth and snow covers the land.
Exploring The Dark Side: The Anti-Hero's Journey
by James Bonnet
You have, no doubt, heard of The Hero's Journey. In this article, we will explore the lesser-known ANTI-hero's
journey and the uncharted dark side of the passage -- the place where the dark forces live and hatch their
nefarious schemes. In real life, it’s people like Hitler, Jack the Ripper and Saddam Hussein who personify these
dark forces. In story, it's great villains like Voldemort, Hannibal Lecter, Darth Vadar and Satan that embody the
dark side.
Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones, Jodie Foster in 'The Silence of the Lambs' and Sigourney Weaver in 'Alien' are
heroes. Their actions are motivated and influenced by a higher nature. Macbeth, Scarlett O'Hara and Michael
Douglas in 'Wall Street' are anti-heroes. Their actions are motivated by a lower, primordial nature.
The higher nature links the hero to the creative energies that seek to overcome negative states and reach
higher states of being. It inspires him/her to seize the day, to be creative and virtuous, courageous and just. It
is a source of great power, and it motivates the hero to make sacrifices and to do great things.
The lower nature links the anti-hero to the physical, animal side of his nature. It is an earthbound self that
pursues earthly things. Hidden in the matrix of its seductive energies are the libido and the id -- the source of
our most basic instincts, appetites and drives, the ones that control hunger, sex and aggression. They compete
with the higher nature for influence over the hero and the anti-hero, and they are the principal resisters of all
positive change.
The hallmark of heroes is personal sacrifice. They personify the positive unselfish side of the ego, and their
journey reveals the upside of the passage. The m.o. of antiheroes is the antisocial act. They personify the
negative selfish side of the ego, the side that has given the word 'ego' a bad name, and their journey reveals
the dark or downside of the cycle.
Villains become anti-heroes when the story is about them; when we see the process they undergo to become
villains. That's the only difference. They are both motivated by the same lower-self impulses. Darth Vadar is a
villain in part IV of 'Star Wars,' but, no doubt, will be the central character and an anti-hero in Part III, when he
is being drawn into the dark side.
On the upside of the passage, the hero resists temptation and goes up the ladder.
On the downside, the anti-hero gives in to temptation and goes down the ladder.
Whereas the hero represents that part of us that recognizes problems and accepts responsibility, the anti-hero
is the will to power and insatiable greed, the materialistic, power hungry, tyrannical side of our natures; the
side that wants to possess everything it desires, without limit, and control everything it needs. In real life, this
is Hitler, Stalin and Mao Tse-tung. In story, it is Little Caesar, Michael Corleone and Commodus in 'Gladiator.'
The stages on the upside of the passage are: separation, initiation, integration and rebirth. The actions of the
heroes in stories like 'Schindler's List,' 'Armageddon,' 'Braveheart,' 'The Fugitive' and 'Mulan' help to illuminate
these steps.
The stages on the downside are: attachment, regression, alienation and death. The anti-heroes in such stories
as 'Oedipus,' 'Faust,' 'Dracula,' 'Gone with the Wind,' 'Citizen Kane' and, more recently, 'Jurassic Park,' 'Ocean's
Eleven' and 'The Score' help to outline this side of the path.
Stories focused on the upside focus on the character of the hero and revolve around getting the hero to join or
return to the fight. These stories are about the transformation of the hero's character and show the hero
being brought back to a heroic frame of mind and returning to the fight.
Stories focused on the downside focus on the corruption rather than the rehabilitation of some anti-hero.
'Othello,' 'Macbeth,' 'Body Heat,' 'Fatal Attraction' and 'The Godfather' are all focused on the downside. John
Milton's 'Paradise Lost' is all about Satan's efforts to corrupt Adam and Eve. 'Macbeth,' which begins on the
upside after the climactic battle, is focused on the downside and is all about Macbeth's corruption and guilt.
'Othello' is focused on jealousy and is all about the destruction of the Moor by his servant, Iago.
The goal of the hero is to liberate an entity like a family, a country or a galaxy from the tyranny and corruption
that caused a state of misfortune and to create a new unified whole. The goal of the anti-hero is to take
possession of an entity and redirect it toward goals that fulfill its own desires and needs, which is to
accumulate, control and enjoy everything it needs to satisfy its insatiable cravings for sense objects, security,
wealth and territory. In modern terms, we're talking about money, sex, and power. Psychologically, these are
the appetites and desires of the lower self taking possession of the conscious self and redirecting its goals.
After the hero completes the upside of the passage, he may, like Adam and Eve, King David or Robert DeNiro
in 'Raging Bull,' be transformed into a new anti-hero and be drawn into the downside. When this happens,
new dark forces are awakened, and the hero's progress is reversed. And where there was initiation, there is
now regression; where there was integration, there is now alienation; where there was strength, there is now
weakness; where there was love, there is now lust; where there was unity, there is now polarity; where there
was a superhero, there is now a tyrant; and where the hero's humanity was being awakened, the antihero's
humanity is being shut down. His generosity has become uncontrolled greed; his compassion has become
hatred and loathing. Where there were celebrations, there are now orgies; and where there was a paradise,
there is now a living hell.
Sometimes the cycles are continuous. In the 'Star Wars' saga, Darth Vadar starts out on the upside as a Jedi, a
young hero aligned with the Force, but then he defects to the Dark Side, becomes an anti-hero and helps bring
about the state of tyranny. Later, with the dawning of a new upside, a new hero, Luke Skywalker, guided by
the Force, emerges to oppose him. These alternating change-of-fortune cycles are the engines that drive this
whole process.
You can tell which side of the cycle your main character is on by who is initiating the action. On the downside,
evil is aggressive, and good is on the defensive. On the upside, it's the reverse -- good is aggressive and evil is
on the defensive. Stories that end on the upside end happily. Stories that end on the downside invariably end
tragically. The demise of the anti-hero is more often than not connected to his overreach, his uncontrolled
passions. The misery the anti-hero creates finally becomes unbearable, and he/she has to be destroyed. A new
hero with a vision has to take up the cause and go after them.
In truth, we owe a great debt to fictional villains and antiheroes. They create the problems the heroes have to
solve and that creates the need for a story that reveals the inner workings of the dark side of our selves.
Without Darth Vadar and the Evil Emperor, there would be no Evil Empire, and there would be no need to
save the galaxy. Without Hannibal Lecter and Buffalo Bill, there would be no problem for Clarice and the FBI to
solve. And without those problems, there would be no revelations concerning the basic struggle between
good and evil, and nothing to report in story. Without the actions of these negative forces, there would be
very few stories to tell, and the forces that motivated Hitler and Jack the Ripper would remain forever a
mystery to us. Coming to terms with the dark side in story helps us to come to terms with the dark side in
ourselves.
Notes on “The Call Refused”
Refusing the Adventure
You have studied the importance of the Rite of Passage. You know how the Hero’s Journey helps develop
confidence and skill. You’ve seen journeys and rituals mirrored in myth, literature, and film. But what happens if
someone refuses the Call and avoids the journey? What then does life become?
Just think about the heroes of some of the stories you’ve read or movies you’ve seen. What if Simba in The Lion
King had ignored Nala and Rafiki and not returned to Pride Rock? How would he have felt when he looked up at the
stars? Think of Frodo in The Lord of the Rings. If he had rejected Gandalf’s quest, could he have been happy with life in
the Shire, knowing that he had refused a great journey? How would his life have been different?
Death and Rebirth
Remember that both the Journey and the Rite of Passage require a death and rebirth: the death of the childish,
ego-centered “I” and the birth of the mature, society-oriented “we.” The initiate stops insisting, “Me, me, me,” and
becomes a part of his community. He stops crying, “Unfair,” and starts thinking, “I can handle this.” She stops claiming,
“It’s not my fault,” and begins saying, “I am responsible for my own life and feelings.”
Into the Labyrinth
When someone refuses the Call, he is refusing his own need to grow. He is rejecting the power and freedom that
come with “rebirth.” Rejection turns a situation which should have been empowering into the opposite. A Journey which
could have liberated the hero enslaves him instead. The adventure which would have given confidence and power
causes dependence and fear. The quest which would have made him open and giving makes him bitter and suspicious.
By rejecting growth, the non-hero surrenders his ability to act even in his own interest. Nothing he does helps.
There is only a growing sense of desperation and frustration. The challenge is no longer growth and discovery, but selfdefense, the protection of his ego, values, and advantages. Even those figures such as parents and teachers, who want
to help, become images to be avoided and resisted.
Perhaps, the non-hero will be lucky and find a Nala or Gandalf to lead him out. Or perhaps the predicament
created by his refusal will offer one last change, carrying the seed for his salvation. If not, every time the non-hero looks
at the journey not taken, he will feel guilt, anger, self-pity, bitterness, and isolation. In extreme cases, his world may end
in self-destruction.
The Stuff of Tragedy
The classic myths and legends are full of people who have refused the call: King Minos, Peter Pan and the Lost
Boys, and many others. Literature, too, is populated with non-heroes who die in the labyrinth of refusal: Willy Loman in
Death of a Salesman, the young lovers in Romeo and Juliet, and Bob Ewell in To Kill a Mockingbird.
Even our movie screens are filled with characters who are locked in the labyrinth, with its greed, fears, and
compulsions: Phil Connors in Groundhog Day, Darth Vader in Star Wars, and Scar in The Lion King.
Their Message is Hope
If these people are not heroes, why do we need their stories? Perhaps it’s because by studying their failed
journeys, we can better understand our own fears and weaknesses. By charting the dead-ends in their lives, we will be
better able to chart a successful path for our own. We will see that the path is well marked, if only we will follow the
signs. Finally, by understanding their isolation and bitterness, we will realize that we need not travel alone, that help is
available if we are wise enough to accept it.
The "Sacred" Power of Metaphor and Symbol
by Reg Harris
As the windows to the subconscious (the spirit, the "inexplicable"), symbols, metaphor, and myths are sacred in the
sense that they connect us to the deeper emotions and meanings in our lives. We respond to them at the deepest level
of our awareness. They activate archetypes, emotions, instincts and longings that are the foundation of our being.
In traditional times, the use of symbolic language was usually reserved for the shaman, the monk, the priest, corandara
or magic-user, the person whose character and training had prepared him or her to live on the dangerous interface
between the temporal and eternal. The shamans had transcended the basic attachments to life, including greed and a
desire for power. They could be trusted to use the symbols and retell the myths. They could be trusted with the symbols
(the spiritual language) of their cultures because they were concerned with the good of the community and the
individuals in it.
Today, however, things have changed. The symbols, myths, metaphors (including the hero)―those traditional guides to
our greater spiritual self―are now being used not by the trusted shaman, but by those who wish to manipulate: the
advertisers, the politicians, the pseudo religious leaders. These people have discovered the power in the symbols, and
they are using our sacred language to manipulate and control us.
The Hero, formerly a symbol of the highest values of a culture, now is paid tens of millions of dollars to use his/her
sacred role to convince us to buy shoes or subscribe to a certain cell phone service. Recently, the American women's
soccer team won the world championship. The women on the team were touted as role models who could motivate
girls on their journeys through life. Last night I saw a commercial in which one of those soccer players was pushing beer.
As a cultural hero (at least for the moment), the young lady was in position to be heroic; she chose instead to be part of
the manipulation, to strengthen the tie between alcohol and sports, telling those young ladies who look up to her that
drinking is ok, even for athletes.
But heroes are not the only cultural symbols being used to control and manipulate us. The symbols of the archetypal
energies which are the core of our sense of being have become tools in the hands of advertisers. The "Anima" and
"Animus" now sell products through references to sex. The Warrior now sells us video games, guns or tickets to WWF.
Our Orphan archetype is activated to generate fear -- of rejection, of the future, of abandonment -- to sell us soap,
deodorant or a political philosophy. The Shadow, perhaps the most powerful of all, is used the drag us into violent video
games and movies, to convince us to support a war against "them," and to manipulate us into striking outward instead
of looking inward.
Who are the most susceptible to these manipulations? Our children. They are the primary targets, and they are the least
prepared to see the manipulations for what they are and to resist them.
Is it any wonder that many children feel like violence it their primary mode of expression. Their sacred points of passage
have been turned into marketing opportunities. Their sacred stories have been twisted into movies and books designed
to earn money rather than to point to growth and understanding. Their sacred symbols are used to take from them
rather than to give to them. When our young people go to the symbols, the myths, the heroes -- those sacred windows
to their deeper selves and sense of true meaning -- they find someone trying to manipulate them, to take their time,
their money, and their minds.
The one refuge from this attack has been the school. Traditionally, schools have been free of the pressures of the media
and advertisers. In school we can take time to look, to explore and to understand. The words school and scholar come
from the Greek schole, which means leisure employed in learning. Even the word educate -- from the Latin ex-, meaning
out, and ducare, meaning to draw -- suggests schools should be places where we can take time to explore ideas and to
draw out the student own understanding.
But the school's role as a refuge from the pressure of life and the media bombardment is changing. Many schools have
bought into the message of business, which is that we should train their workers, not educate our young. Many schools
have sold out to the advertisers, with exclusive contracts for soft drinks, athletic equipment, and food. More and more
schools buy texts which use brand name advertisers (who pay for the privilege) in examples of math problems. Many
schools use slick, "free" lesson packages created and provided by businesses, businesses which have their own agenda
to promote. The leisure is gone and the refuge is gone.
Where is the individual's Hero's Journey in all of this? Unfortunately, it has been subverted for the pseudo journey
created by the media, the advertisers, and the manipulators. Is this why children feel frustrated and too often violent?
Are we stealing their childhood from them by pressuring them onto the "road to success" and by treating them not as
exciting, growing intellects, but as cogs in our culture's capitalistic machinery?
Our children are thrust into in an accelerated, consumption-oriented, thought-discouraging competition to reach the top
of some ladder. Will they thank us for the shove we give them on their way up? Probably not. To paraphrase Joseph
Campbell, most of them will struggle up that ladder toward what they have been taught is success only to discover years
down the road that, in the rush and confusion, they've put their ladder against the wrong wall.
When the language of the spirit, of the unconscious, of the Self is appropriated to manipulate, the connection with the
spirit is damaged. When this happens, we are damaged because a vital aspect of our lives is missing. In our compulsion
with progress, consumption and technology, we are damaging our children in countless ways. That damage is only
beginning to manifest itself in frustration and violence, violence made easier because the sense of Self and the capacity
for deep thought have been stolen and replaced by a fear of the future, by a rushing to keep from being lost, and by the
conditioning to be a good consumer, a good worker -- but never oneself.
The Hero's Journey may still be a part of our children's lives, but the din of "false calls" from the advertisers, the media,
the politicians, and the businesses make the genuine Call harder and harder to discern. Even when one hears the Call of
the Self, that voice may do nothing more than mock our inability to act. When the Self is crushed and the Journey is
gone, what is left? Bitterness, anger, frustration -- dangerous emotions in a world which teaches you that violence is the
first resort to solving problems.
What do we do? Schools may be the only hope to begin the process, but not until we decide that "job training" is only a
small part of education. We can do little until we decide that it is more important to help our children sift through the
media din to hear their own Call. We can do little until we decide that wisdom is the first step toward growth and trust
facts and information to come along naturally when the time is right.
The first step may be to reclaim ownership of our sacred symbols. Students must know how they are being manipulated
by these powerful carriers of meaning. They must be taught to use the symbols for themselves, to gain insight into life
and themselves through their literature, their films, their history, and their own experience. Otherwise, Columbine will
be just one of an ever-growing number of violent expressions of a youth which has lost touch with its spiritual side. We
can never return the sacred language to the control of the shaman, but we can help our students see how the language
is used to manipulate them and how they can resist the manipulations and hear the Call to their own journeys.