All semester, we have been talking about the ways Tolkien uses visual art, mythology from other world cultures, events and characters from his fiction's "history" to build his own subcreated, mythological world. Although Tolkien was a master at this, I would like to posit that all of us regular human beings also engage in mythological subcreation within our own lives, even if we do not write fiction. Remember that, in Tolkien's frame of reference, this type of mythmaking or mythopoeia is not false or dissembling; it is a way of embodying the truest kind of truth in one's heart and soul (I know it's corny, but humor me for a bit ;-) )
For instance, in my own life, I have memories of a fall with golden trees, re-reading The Lord of the Rings, and being deeply in love for really the first time in my life. An old special song by Enya (whose title escapes me right now) and one from Elton John ("Your Song") are interwoven in my mind with that time. Although that love didn't last much beyond that one fall, my memories of it are sharp and clear and ring truer in my heart than many others. I theorize that this may be because I have created a mythopoeia of that time in my memories-- certainly fictional in the wonder and joy of it, but no less true and real in my heart.
So, in what ways have you engaged in your own life with mythopoeia? In other words, what works of art, books you've read, music you've heard, sights, sounds, smells, feelings have you put together in a way that represents something meaningful in your own life? Does this subcreation of a small bit of mythology connected to your own life and its events matter differently to you than other kinds of memories or events? In what ways does combining such elements into a mythology make it feel or seem more true? Or does it?
If you choose to respond to this post (and I sincerely hope you do!), please feel free to disclose as much or as little personal information as you wish. Also, if you wish not to breach your pseudonym, feel free to email your response to me and i will post it in your stead.
13 comments:
I agree that we as humans partake in mythmaking, in fact as a psych major I can confidently say we do because the way we perceive daily events is different from the way someone else who saw the exact same event will perceive it. I would say that is a form of mythmaking, our perception creates out myth. Personally I also feel that some people, at myself have very active imaginations and live inside their own heads a little bit. I grew up as an only child and have always been pretty awkward so I don't have very many friends, as a child I would spend all day in my own imagination. I had several imaginary friends, I would put up shows in my living room for no one to see, go on adventures in my yard, all that good stuff. Even today as an "adult" I spend quite a bit of time in my own head just going over endless mindtrips. I don't think i answered the question but I tried.
When I was 15, me and my mom trained for a marathon together. We would get up at 5am three days a week and run anywhere from six to twenty miles. When I would get home after one of those runs, I remember using a specific kind of soap with a particular scent. Now, when I smell that specific scent, it reminds me of early morning runs, feeling accomplished, feeling sore, and feeling proud of myself for pursuing a difficult goal. It has almost become an inspiration to me to continue reaching for goals that some might consider "crazy." I never want to back away from a challenge just because it could be "too hard," and that soap reminds me that I can do amazing things if I just try.
Silly as it is, soap inspires me to be fearless :)
I have many a lot of items, among other types of things, that I think feed into my own personal mythopoeia ( I feel like that isn't a way in which that word can be used..). The most prominent one would be my tattoos. They each started as just something small that I only dreamed about getting. But then I went and got them with people that I loved, or they came to have a meaning deeper than I could ever imagine. I don't really know how to explain the ways that my tattoos make me feel. They make me feel safe, remind me that I am part of something great. But more than that, they remind me of all the things that used to be: how great my old friends are, how much certain periods of time helped me grow, and how important it is to really let yourself feel. And while the meaning behind all of my tattoos actually kinda is a sad story I remember them so vividly.
I also have a necklace; it is a very simple chain with a St. Michael pendant on it. It was given to my by my dad, twice. The first time was when I was very young. He deployed a whole lot and I didn't really understand why or where he was going. And long story short, I was a mess kinda all the time and after one of his deployments, literally while we were on the tarmac right after they were allowed to break formation he took it off of his neck and put it on mine. He promised me that he would always come back. Which seems dumb and cheesy, but that is literally one of my favorite memories. I gave him the necklace back a little before I graduated high school, because I was the one who was supposed to be leaving. That didn't last very long. Very soon after I got really sick, like I lived in the hospital for about 8 months sick. During that time, my dad gave me the necklace back saying I needed it more than he did. This necklace really just embodies how I feel about being alive and the relationship between my dad and I. But anyway. I'll stop here because I've already written quite a decent amount..
I was just thinking about this memory in the car the other day, and I'm so glad that I will now have the opportunity to share it with some other people.
It seems a little silly now, but I think it was important anyway.
I was 15 years old, in my sophomore year of high school. I went to this dance my school put on called the "Hatchet Hop", basically our Sadie Hawkins. Everyone called it the "Hatchet Flop" because no one ever showed up: out of a school of 1800+ people about 100-200 would come.
Anyway, I went with some friends I didn't know very well last minute, I wore my step-mom's dress and shoes because I didn't have anything else to wear. They immediately abandoned me and I was alone at the dance. This kid I didn't know very well from middle school walked up to me and asked me to dance.
The song "Come on Eileen" started playing and we danced together for the whole song and the rest of the night. He and I decided to go to a coffee shop called Kaldi's and talked about everything in this warm light and warm air. We barely knew each other and didn't see each other very much after this, but I think it was probably one of the most romantic nights of my life. The thing is, there wasn't anything particularly special about this, and if I really think about this memory there are lots of negative parts: not the least of which that I never dated a guy after this day, and that I got in a huge fight with my parents when I got home because I broke my curfew.
I won't disclose everything that was going on at home, but for context, I moved out of my house at 16, about three months after this. Suffice to say I had been unhappy for a long enough time that I'd forgotten what it was like to be happy. Things were still bad after this, but I had a little hope to hold until I was brave enough to get out of a bad situation.
Anyway, whenever that song comes on, I can't help but feel good and remember the myth I created: the dancing and the light and the warm feeling.
I think we certainly do create myths in our memories. I’d like to build on that by saying that authors draw on their personal experiences when writing stories. I like to write stories, and I get inspired by my experiences. It can be as simple as the feel of a place, the sights and sounds. I think we create myths from our experiences when we use our experiences as inspiration. Something like going for a hike can be intentionally used for mythopoeia.
Beyond that, I also agree that “subconscious” mythopoeia occurs with people’s memories as well, as you all have mentioned.
~Ulmo
I love the idea of this kind of mythmaking; something we do in our own lives, possibly daily, and without really thinking about it. Thinking about where I have done this in my own life was difficult, but I think I have come up with a somewhat relevant example. My dad has always been a big fisherman, and when I was little we would drive out to ponds or streams to fish. As I child, I felt like these car rides lasted FOREVER. After one specific fishing trip, I was covered in ticks. I have an extremely vivid memory, that I know I have exaggerated, picking little brown ticks out of my socks and my pants and putting them into an empty Vienna sausages can (which we also ate all the time as kids). My dad drove a red 2-door truck, which only had 3 seats, so I did this sitting right next to him in the passenger seat. Whenever I drive with the windows down, the air is warm, and maybe whenever the smell of the country or water is present, I think of this memory, which I know I have altered in my mind to be something it likely wasn't. Regardless, this memory that I have created is a good memory that I hold on to, and it almost serves as my own escape out of reality and into a simple and careless past.
-Melian
I first read Lord of the Rings in the summer between middle and high school. I carried the books with me everywhere I went in those months: summer camp, volleyball practice, and the many new student orientations I had to attend come August. In my mind, I melded Tolkien's stories with the great adventure of transitioning from one school to the next. I know for many of us the jump between schools can be difficult, but for me, it was more than just difficult - it was the getting no sleep, crying in class, feeling awful everyday kind of hard. (Much Fall Out Boy was listened to. Many oversized hoodies purchased).
I went to the same school from Pre-K through 8th grade. There were fifteen people in my class and for nine years I'd never had to socialize with someone I hadn't known since they were a toddler. I had crippling anxiety and no social skills, and yet I went to the biggest public school in my city where none of my former classmates had decided to go. I was terrified, but I took Tolkien with me the entire way. Stories of characters succeeding against all odds carried me through high school so much so that I can't even think about trying to transition through a big change without thinking of myself as a character in one of Tolkien's stories.
-Varda*
What a good prompt, Dr. Donovan! It's been wonderful to read the responses. Before moving to New Mexico, my family lived in Idaho. The memories I have of our log home in Teton Valley, Idaho are so vivid that even writing this brings me to the brink of tears. When we moved away from Idaho, because of my father's temporary work situation, I always thought we would return. In the end, though, my father found permanent work in New Mexico and I did not get to say goodbye to one of my favorite places. I was robbed of any closure on that part of my life and for me, this means that the wonderful life my family had for a short time in Idaho lives on. It is almost as if, in some other mythic reality, I could still return to our old home in Idaho and explore the mountains and fields with my family and the dog. I sometimes feel like an exile in my current life and that if I could return to the time in my life when we lived in Teton Valley, I would return home.
Oh my lanta, does this resonate with me.
Growing up, things were what people would consider pretty atypical. Coming from a family that, in general, would be looked upon by the outside world as being one where everything is working out, yet lacked so much, was a very valuable experience to me.
I remember being alone a lot, even when I was surrounded by my siblings. Having three older step siblings--two of which were pretty damaged from living with their biological mother, and two itty bitty siblings while my parents struggled to keep food on the table was awfully empty feeling, very numbing.
My older siblings wouldn't really be much use, and I was left to take care of the littles. I remember turning to music a lot, taking lonely walks through forests in Washington State, and counting the days until I turned 18. I glorified becoming educated, and I quickly learned to enjoy my own company. Without giving much more detail, I must say that I often look at my past as something that gave me great strength. Although there is a lot to not be proud of, I am certainly proud of where I came from and how I've gotten where I am now. Some of the things I thought I would harbor in anger have become some of my most valued experiences. I'd never give them up.
Sometimes the one older brother I still have any relationship to tells me that he doesn't understand how I had felt the way I did, that things seemed much different to him. The reality is that I'm sure things were somewhere in between our perspectives. I think we both turned our childhood into a myth. His is more colorful than it had been in reality, and mine had been more dark than reality had been.
Wow, one of my favorite things about honors is the courage of the students to be vulnerable with each other. This prompt reinforced that feeling in me. Jumping into the discussion, I would like to share that I am not the type of person that digs into their memories and experiences but I am trying to get better. My family doesn't do a great job of explicitly showing love to each other. We show our love and appreciation subliminally in our activities and memories we share together. For instance, I have a connection to my father through music. He showed me what it looks like to have a true passion for something through music. I play the banjo and I dedicated a drawing on the front to him. I guess my banjo is a symbol of the love and connection we share through music and I suppose my memories of music have a mythic quality in my mind. I think all humans partake in their own subcreation. We crave to understand the world around us and through subcreation, we are at least able to understand the components of the world that we have brought to life.
Estë
I have lived in a mythopoeia inside my own mind for much of my life. I have used fantasy, science fiction, anime, video games, horror and so many more to live in a world inside my mind. A world to happily be in and one as real as the world we live in and one that I am not necessarily trying to escape from with all its beauties and wonders too. Being an introvert, I simply prefer living in imagined worlds where man is not the center of the universe. Lately I have actually been living in a world where my mom is still here, one where my family and friends can just be happy without these earthly woes to overwhelm us. I really think of her when I hear any Beatles songs, especially "As My Guitar Gently Weeps" and Chicago's "Stay the Night" and Jimi Hendrix's "little Wing", some of my momma and I's favorites. I also get really sucked into my private world when I smell the spicy and sweet scents of freshly cooking pasta and it takes me back to dinners that were celebrations and filled with smiles and laughter from family and friends sharing in each other's company. I believe the worlds that I visit in my imagination are every bit as real as the world that I live and work in. My world where I visit my momma's spirit is my real connection to her and the realization that she isn't physically here anymore. Its a place where I can share what is happening with myself and a place where I don't feel as alone. Reality is what we make it I have always thought. so these my mythopoeia moments help me keep grounded in the real world and have the fun that I don't in it with my imagined worlds of magic and wonderment.
I am a bit late to the game in responding to this prompt, but I love it quite a lot!
There have been many parts of my life where I have created my own world and my own memories of that time. I remember the first time I went autocrossing with my father most distinctly from my younger years. I remember the helmets and how quickly we went around the hairpin turns (which must have been much quicker in reality than the slow motion I always recall). I also remember sitting with my mom, looking at the Sandias from my backyard, and just being in the moment. I don't really remember if we were talking, but I remember that moment very vividly.
It is interesting how many of my more recent memories have the same emotion and impression in my mind and heart. I remember listening to loud music with two people who mean the world to me on the back porch of the camp we were at, enjoying what felt like the last opportunity for the three of us to be relaxed and unburdened from daily life. I remember looking up at the stars, and I relive that moment every time I look up at the stars on a clear night.
These memories have had an immense impact on me and can occasionally bring me to tears. I am thankful beyond belief for these moments and memories.
I want to thank all of you for sharing these memories and personal thoughts, it's very courageous. I however, am floundering because I don't think I have ever thought of my life as a myth, or even considered it to be a particularly interesting or story-worthy thing. Instead, I will just share a very treasured memory of mine.
When I was about 7 or 8, and my family had just arrived to ABQ, we were very much on our own; no friends or family to speak of, a borrowed apartment, and two suitcases. Yet it was late fall, and our hopes soared when we experienced the Balloon Fiesta together for the first time. We did not have much money, so instead of going to the event, we spent a weekend morning chasing around the nearest balloons that passed overhead until they landed. I can remember being in absolute awe that such an enormous thing could have the power to fly. We sat in many parks that day, our excited voices hushed in reverence at the spectacle in front of us. Now, although all of us live apart from each other, I still feel the connection created by having to face this scary new world together. And every morning that I see a balloon in the air, I know it's an omen that it will be a good day
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