The Hero’s Journey
The hero’s journey is a tale as old as time. Homer knew it; Shakespeare made some of the world’s greatest literature out of it, and George Lucas transformed it into a multi-million dollar industry with his Star Wars movies.
Joseph Campbell, the great myth scholar, mapped this monomyth and gave it the title above.
The journey is simply a metaphor for life and how we face ‘the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune’ will determine whether we emerge a hero or a villain.
And if you are asking yourself what archetypal myth structures have to do with you, the answer is everything.
This ancient story-line is a ‘how to’ manual for life and if we know how to read it, and follow it, then we can make our lives meaningful and purposeful no matter what the situation.
A life compass
How to be a hero
When we conjure the idea of a hero, we tend to think of superhuman attributes of strength, wisdom and prowess. But we are thinking of the hero after they have completed their journey – not as they begin. Cast your mind back to the start of the tale and they are just like you and me: flawed, uncertain, hesitant or downright unwilling to engage. What will set them apart is the courage to set off on the adventure – face the unknown, ask for assistance and keep faith.
If you will bear with me, I’d like to sketch out my own journey and how I feel it fits this model for life. This blog is part of the adventure and if it is successful, I hope it will serve as a companion for your own odyssey.
The Everyday World
This is where it starts. In my pre-MS world, I was, until my children left home, a busy at-home mum, part-time teacher and volunteer. In all aspects of my life, I was someone who felt they were a productive member of society. I had value.
All this was to change, instantly and irrevocably , on the occasion of my last and most damaging relapse. It occurred at the end of a morning’s teaching. When I left the classroom, I had no idea that I was never going to be able to return.
The Call to Adventure
After days in hospital and endless tests, I was diagnosed with MS. Hurtling, Alice-like, down the rabbit hole, I entered a whole new world filled with canes, wheelchairs, bed rest and exhaustion.
Lying there, unable to use my legs, my self-image collapsed. Where I had been a fit, strong and capable woman, I was now an invalid. It was, quite frankly, terrifying.
Accepting the Call
This was the cross-roads and my choice was clear. Accept the call or recoil from it and in doing so seal my fate.
I chose to accept, though nothing in life had prepared me for this (despite what all those Shakespeare plays and fairy tales had tried to teach me). Could I prove that I could overcome adversity? I could only try.
Thanks to modern science and sheer good fortune, I was able to recover sensation in my legs, but I lost pretty much all my ability to function as a modern human. I slept for hours and swam through a fog of fatigue. My ability to concentrate was minimal and every task was a Herculean effort. Part of me wanted to lie down and succumb to what I had been told was an inevitable decline. Initially diagnosed with relapsing primary progressive MS the prognosis was dire: rapid slide into total disability and perhaps premature death.
I hung on to the consolation that I was not dead yet and if I could make my remaining years any better, I had an obligation to at least try. So each day, I would attempt to stay awake a little longer, write a few more emails, read more than a page. And each day, these tasks became microscopically easier until after six months, I could read a novel, type without more errors than correct words and walk without wanting to cry with pain.
Each tiny victory became the basis for the next effort. It turned out I had been misdiagnosed and that my MS was the less severe form of relapsing remitting. My future was much more hopeful and I sighed with relief that I had not succumbed to despair and inaction.
The Helpers
We all need help. In the first instance, it was nurses, doctors and medical professionals who enabled me to take my first baby steps in my new world. Out of hospital, I had to find my own.
For me, with my sons abroad, it came down to my husband and an army of caring, practical friends. But it also came from MS websites and programmes, physios, therapists and any number of kind souls who in some way smoothed my path.
The Ordeals
Living with MS – or any chronic disease – is to be constantly tested. Unlike our mythic heroes, we do not engage in our last battle and return home triumphant to our prize and happy ever after union. But we do get our reward – a sense of self-esteem built upon solid foundations.
Home
The Hobbit returns home only to embark on his next adventures
Which leaves us with the penultimate stage: returning home with the knowledge to save others. Sounds ambitious? Well, it is. If, on our life-changing journey, we have acquired wisdom, compassion and courage, we are the very best equipped to heal our world.
The Quest
And this is our quest: to cope with affliction with grace and dignity and through our behaviour to inspire others to do likewise. We can do this quietly and discretely. We have much more power for good than we can possibly imagine. And if we fail to meet our goals? Well, there is always tomorrow.
So I ask you to join me in working towards being true alchemists: turning suffering into kindness, pain into the gold of compassion. Let us be the hero of our own unique story. Let us begin.