your mind always focused

on the next conquest

the new who

                        what

                                 where

                                             how

                                                      when.

Without that carrot,

how else will your ego know

it’s winning?

like a cloud

has ambition

and legs to stand on.

Falling through the

atmosphere,

only rain makes

its way to the ground

All emotion and nothing to dam it.

And in the end it was just like that.

Water.  Everywhere water.

The first passage that stood out to me was the following on page xxiv from the Introduction:

So, what I’ve told my students is this: follow your bliss.  You’ll have moments when you’ll experience bliss.  And when that goes away, what happens to it?  Just stay with it, and there’s more security in that than in finding out where the money is going to come from next year.  For years I’ve watched this whole business of young people deciding on their careers.  There are only two attitudes: one is to follow your bliss; and the other is to read the projections as to where the money is going to be when you graduate.  Well, it changes so fast.  This year it’s computer work; next year it’s dentistry, and so on.  And no matter what the person decides, by the time he or she gets going, it will have changed.  But if they have found where the center of their real bliss is, they can have that.  You may not have money, but you’ll have your bliss.

I’ve really struggled with this concept because money IS a real factor in surviving in this world.  I feel like if I were to really pursue my bliss then I’d be without family and home.  Certainly that was the message I heard growing up, and to some degree I think it still holds merit.  Sure, the transcendent is the only worthy path in life, but the realist in me is at odds with complete surrender to the concept because there seems to be such a lack of support for the poetic soul in American society.

Campbell addresses this issue much later in the book (pg. 119-120):

Let’s say a young man comes to New York to study art.  He’s gone from Wisconsin into the underworld, Greenwich Village, and there he finds all of these nymphs who tempt and inspire him, and there’s a master there with whom he’s studying, and so forth, and finally, through their assistance and through his own hard work and talent, he achieves his own art style.

The first crisis is that he must not have the art style of his master but find his own style.  That’s a very important moment in any creative studio.  I’ve seen very funny things.  Sometimes you have a master who doesn’t want his students to have any other style, you know, and then the student, when his own spirit begins to take over, has this violent hatred of the person who has been the master.

Finally, having achieved his individual style, he comes to 57th Street to sell his paintings, and he meets the cold eye of the dealer.  The point is that what you have to bring is something that the world lacks – that is why you went to get it. (Emphasis mine) Well, the daylight world doesn’t even know that it needs this gift you are bringing.  There are three possible reactions, then, when you come to the return threshold, carrying your boon for the world.

The first is that there is no reception at all.  No one cares about this great treasure you have brought.  What are you going to do?  One answer is to say to yourself, “To hell with them.  I’m going back to Wisconsin.”  And then you buy yourself a dog and a pipe and let the weeds grow in the gate, and you’re painting pictures that will be discovered when two thousand years from now and recognized as the greatest paintings of the twentieth century.  You go back into your own newly unified whole and let the world go stink.

The second way is to say, “What do they want?”  Now you’ve got a skill, and you can give ‘em what they’re asking for.  This is what is known as commercial art.  You keep saying to yourself, “When I get enough money, I’m going to stop and do my big thing.”  Of course, it never happens, because you’ve created a whole pitch for your expression that doesn’t allow you to get out what you had before; it gets lost.  But you have a public career, which is something.

The third possibility is to try to find some aspect of, or some portion of, the domain into which you have come that can receive some little portion of what you have to give (emphasis mine). This is the pedagogical attitude of helping them to realize the need, what you needed and have got to give.  Those are the only possibilities.

He goes on to say that this third way is the way that requires a good deal of compassion and patience.

If nothing else, he says, you can get a job teaching.  But you will find, if you make one little hook into the society, that you presently will be able to deliver your message.  I know it.

And, I think, this is where I find myself.

Just as I was wondering this, children and parents began descending the stairs to go outside.  They didn’t seem to mind that we were in their living room, which made me wonder what kind of family lived upstairs.  I think it turned out that the inhabitants were somewhat like a foster care family.  Two men were the parents and they were taking care of several children, most of whom were not their own but who otherwise didn’t have a family.  I have to mention that no one was upset about the figurines.

Within a few seconds the dream morphed into Christmastime.  My mother, father, sister, brother, upstairs family, and some of who I considered to be passer through’s (but weren’t) joined gathered in the living room.  My aunt (who passed away 4 years ago) had somehow managed to have Christmas gifts for everyone (including the passer through’s).  In fact, she had volunteered with some of the passer through’s so I realized that these folks were not random people but important figures in her world.  I did not know of her volunteering and was touched by this realization.  Most of the gifts opened were from my aunt and each of them had a deep meaning.  She gave my parents a photo of my sister Rachel when she was about to be christened.  My aunt had framed my sister’s christening gown and shoes (even though Rachel was a baby when she was christened).

I don’t recall the gifts she gave to everyone.  Many of them were very sweet Christmas ornaments.  One of the older men with whom she had volunteered got some very beautiful Christmas bells.  My aunt wasn’t able to stay for the entire time when I opened my gift from her.  She gave me my present and told me to open it now because she was going to have to leave, that she couldn’t hang on any longer.  I opened the gift and was crying again at how sweet the gift was.  She gave me a jewelry box with notes inside about taking care of myself and nourishing my skin.  I was sobbing openly and looked over to see her slumped body in her chair.  She was gone, but I was so grateful for the messages she had given me and the soft pink jewelry box.

I got to thinking about my dream and how I didn’t allow myself to play Wonder Woman because I don’t have the right physique. Even my husband pointed out that Wonder Woman embodies the quest for truth and justice.

So, maybe I ought to hold on to Wonder Woman as a mythological figure. Maybe the original comics might provide more inspiration and allow my subconscious to rebuild that image. I think the TV probably interferes with the mind’s ability to use one’s own imagination.

Which has me thinking … I have to reduce the amount of TV I let my kids watch!

I had already purchased costumes, including a sexy nurse’s outfit (because, after all, Wonder Woman exuded sex even if she was doing good in the world). I was deliberating what scene to pick for my performance the realization occurred. Suddenly, I found myself embarrassed at my naivete.

‘Who did I think I was, trying to pull off playing Wonder Woman?’

I didn’t have any other cast members either. The only person I could potentially recruit for my play was Cam. At the same time, it dawned on me that the dates for my performance would coincide with the July 4th holiday. Who on earth would attend when they had other festivities going on?

I awoke realizing that Wonder Woman must be one of my mythological figures from childhood. I went to bed wondering about my personal myth because I’ve been reading Joseph Campbell’s Pathways to Bliss and Wonder Woman surfaced.

The content of the dream, however, makes me wonder if I am losing Wonder Woman as a mythological figure. There are few strong female mythological figures in American society. Wonder Woman was all I had growing up. If I had been raised Catholic, perhaps Mother Mary might have made more of an impact, but I was raised Methodist so Jesus was definitely the focal point. As a female, I can understand now why Jesus failed to inspire me on some fronts.

Hmmm. I’m going to have to think about this dream for a little while before I really fully digest the significance.