Tag Archives: Joseph Campbell

Be A Tiger

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Fiction, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

August 16, 2024- Joseph Campbell, in his 2003 book, Myths of Light, ends his discourse on Eastern religions and thought with the story of “The Tigers and the Goats”. It seems that a pregnant tiger was out seeking food, for herself and her baby. She came upon a herd of goats. Charging and pouncing too hard, she landed roughly, laboured and gave birth, then died.

The goats took pity upon the helpless tiger cub, raised him as one of their own, teaching him to eat grass and bleat. He had no idea there was any difference between him and the goats, though he felt a discomfort. One day, a male tiger came along and charged at the goats, roaring and snarling. The genuine goats scattered, while the tiger-goat stood facing his larger nemesis.

The wise older cat listened, as the tiger-goat explained that he was a grass-eater, a goat. The grown tiger took the juvenile by the neck, led him to a pond and showed him his true likeness. Then he brought his new apprentice to his den, where other tigers were reveling in eating a gazelle they had killed. The young tiger struggled with the meat, but something inside him felt right, and he stayed with the group, learning to seize his true nature.

Each of us should be our true selves. A frugal person, who treasures conserving the best of tradition, cannot pass as a spendthrift or as a free-spirited innovator, without feeling that something is off. Likewise, an innovator, a progressive, fools no one by demanding that tradition be maintained, at all costs. Each can, and hopefully will endeavour to, see the value in what the other is doing, and work to find common ground.

The introvert needs time alone. The extrovert craves company and an expanded network. Most others, like myself, toggle between the two states of being, as ambiverts. Society needs all three personality types.

This is the balance, rooted in the love that was imbued in us by the Divine. We will ever have the process of reaching out, expanding and welcoming more to our circle, then taking time to consolidate and absorb the best of that expansion into our systems.

If you are a tiger, be fierce. If you are an ox, be taurine. If you are a goat, graze peacefully. There is space for all.

Smoother Sailing

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, service, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 19, 2024, Victoria, BC- The distraught woman was yelling, at everyone and at no one, as I walked toward Bold Butchery and Grill in search of a falafel dinner. She was adamant that “he” had no business telling her to clean her room. The “room” was a small dome, that actually looked quite tidy. I saw no male around there, so who knows whether the “boss” was present, or was an unwanted memory of a past overlord. There are about twenty-five people living in tents along and adjacent to Quadra Street, down a bit from Turtle Hostel, where I am spending the night. There are about twenty-five of us in the hostel. Only four walls and the ability to pay for lodging really separate the two groups.

Joseph Campbell, in “Myths of Light”, describes the primal cakra of kundalini yoga as muladhara, the “root lotus”, the most basic urge to hold onto something which represents one’s identity. We see this in everyone, from a politician holding onto an office to a soldier fighting to the death, to someone living on the street and guarding personal space, along with the few possessions that are there within that zone. I tend to exercise reasonable precaution and care of my possessions, so that I have what I need, day to day. Obsession with them left, quite a few years back, as the realization set in that there was nothing that couldn’t be replaced-except my life. It has also been thirty-two years since I was homeless, and even then, my little family and I were not living in a tent, but in a motel-and that was only for a month or so. I wish smoother sailing for the folks in this little community, who do seem to take care of one another. There is even a “mayor”, who lives in an RV that is parked across the street from the ornate Conservatory of Music. He was making the rounds this evening, seeing who needs what basics, which he will try to find, when he goes to the Farmers Market tomorrow.

I will meet a Baha’i friend across town tomorrow morning, spending a bit of time along the waterfront, and praying for another friend, who is laid up a bit. That has been the nature of this journey-to connect with members of my Faith community who have felt a bit isolated, of late. So far, it has worked out, and if there are no Baha’is to visit, I have been able to connect with other old friends who I haven’t met in person.

I left the incomparable Bayside Motel, on Bellingham’s commercial strip, after getting Sportage its overdue maintenance check. All is well, and the lead mechanic remarked that the vehicle is in tiptop shape. Lord knows I pay attention to it. Bayside is a reasonably-priced establishment, that keeps up with the chains, when it comes to things like breakfast and a guest laundry room, as well as the sheer comfort of the sleeping room itself.

I got to the ferry terminal at Tsawassen, a bit early, and so had to drive around a bit, then return to the gate. The computer system resets on the hour, so a 1 p.m. check-in does not mean 12:55. Once in queue, there was plenty to do, in passing two hours-between lunch, writing to my resurfaced friend and organizing what I could of still-damp laundry, drying in the car. (Long story short, the dryers at Bayside were taken up by one family, and check-out happened before the clothes could be finished. At least they’re clean!)

The ferry ride was smooth, I napped for a while and it was easy to find Turtle Hostel. As indicated above, this is a somewhat artsy area. It also has several Mediterranean restaurants, which is good for my palate. Bold Butchery and Grill has several varieties of hummus to go with its excellent falafel. I chose the turmeric version. After dinner, it was easy to connect on a Zoom devotional, then segue into a section of Myths of Light that talks about the seven bodily cakras.

Smooth sailing depends on self-knowledge, so I am definitely interested in continuing to learn what Joseph Campbell had to say about the upper cakras.

No Flight of Fancy

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Family, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

June 26, 2024, Bedford, MA- The young lady looked both embarrassed and crestfallen, upon learning that her oversized luggage would not fit in an overhead bin. Apparently, it had fit on previous flights, but on this full flight, it was a no-go. She asked if the middle seat was taken, and hearing a “No”, dropped her carry-on item on the seat, brought the offending bag to the jet way, for check-in, and came back to take her seat. No further words were exchanged with anyone, until the end of the flight, when she joined another young woman (maybe a sister) and an older man (maybe her father). I heard her tell the man that “that woman just growled at me, when I was bringing the bag out.” Sad that, even when people do inconvenient things, that we can’t summon at least a modicum of grace.

My day began at 1 a.m., proceeding to the shuttle down to Phoenix at 2:30, a somewhat chaotic scene at TSA, which led to a group of us being sent to another TSA check-point, on the other side of the terminal-and an only slightly less chaotic scene. I have rather mastered the art of removing items that need to be placed in separate tubs, ahead of time, thus not being obtrusive to other passengers or to the officers. It worked nicely, this morning.

Once in St. Louis, I got brunch at Bagel Bakery, directly across from our gate. A message came, around Noon, saying the flight to Boston was delayed, so I just settled into Joseph Campbell’s “Myths of Light”, that much deeper. It turned out, though, that the message was in error, so I informed the gate clerk, who checked and found that the flight crew had made up for the late departure from San Diego and would be on time, after all.

We got into Boston, as scheduled, waited at baggage claim for about thirty minutes, and upon finding that Mom was still with us, I proceeded to the rental car center, via a suitably crowded mega bus. Budget’s office, inside the garage itself, was not crowded, and I was in my vehicle in short order. Then came getting out of the Airport. I had almost navigated the Logan Labyrinth, when the driver in front of me stopped, got out and threw away some trash, then got back in her vehicle and- just sat, looking over at me like she was at wit’s end. A MassPort officer came over, and directed me as to how to get the rest of the way towards Revere, then removed some cones that were between me and the actual road. I was out of Boston, five minutes later.

When I was a teenager, being able to navigate Bell Circle, in Revere, at rush hour was deemed a rite of passage by every older man who ever mentored a kid on the near North Shore. I managed, back then. Nowadays, Bell is a shadow of its former self, thanks to properly placed traffic lights and yield signs that are actually obeyed by those approaching them. I was at my Mom’s place of residence, twenty minutes after leaving Logan International Airport. The once terrifying Near North Shore traffic had lost its menace.

Mom was silent, but she opened her eyes, just a bit, and grasped my hand, as I spoke to her and kissed her forehead. Her breath and pulse are still discernible and I know she was able to hear us singing along to James Taylor’s and Carole King’s performances of timeless songs, like “You’ve Got A Friend”. Dave and Deb left, after about an hour, and I stayed on until the night nurse got there. She had her own struggles to get to work, in the rain, but in the end, all was well. I bid Mom good night, promising to come back tomorrow morning.

The elevator to the first floor found me stuck inside, due to a brief power outage, then everything came back on. I was “rescued” by another night nurse who was waiting on the first floor. The drive from Lynnfield to Bedford was made in the rain, and of course once near the motel, GPS got bollixed up and sent me to the next lot over. As I backed up in that lot, to turn around, a random guy wandered from behind my vehicle, because that’s what happens, when it’s dark, rainy and late at night. We are always expected to be on game. He was a security guard for the lot’s owner, it turned out, and was not unpleasant.

Now, I’m in my comfortable room and rest will come easy.

An Eastward Homage, Day 3: The Sum Total

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Travel

I had no trouble getting up the morning of May 29, having briefly risen at 3 AM, said a prayer in honour of Baha’ullah’s passing, 122 years ago today.  I thought later that morning of my youngest brother, Brian, who would have turned 50 today, had he not suffered for 22 years and died after 29 of them.

Today on the ground, however, was about the family Norm Fellman left behind, especially his wife, my mother-in-law.  The family is at their south Jersey home, in a place called Vineland.  I had a heart-wrenching visit with my MIL, and will not go into detail as to all she, or her daughter, shared.  .

What were nice were two things:  A walk around their immediate neighbourhood, and the London Broil dinner we had, fresh off the grill.  Wynne and David have worked hard at making the home nice for her devoted mother.  Here are some scenes of home and neighbourhood.  The sum total of this whole trip is the devotion of family.  I have my part to share in this.  It is to visit those sites which Norm and his comrades-in-arms sanctified with their sacrifices, whether by dying or by suffering both internal and external wounds.

For most of us, wounds are hard to conceal.  The pain of loss is felt by all, including the family’s last surviving dog. The window box, though, is a spirit lifter, which Wynne has prepared in her father’s memory.

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We did get a change of scene, by walking about the immediate neighbourhood, which is filled with both architectural and botanical gems.  The first we saw was a red maple, spread fully with stunning foliage, long before Fall.

Here’s a little rabbit, just before Willow charged at it.

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The great forests have nothing on Vineland.

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One of Vineland’s most stately Georgian era homes is now an attorney’s office.  Note the special feature in the chimney.

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Back at the house, it struck me how it is similar, in some respects, to the old house at Longmeadow Farm.  Mom remembers the farm as their strongest dream, and greatest success, as a couple. Joseph Campbell advises us to “Follow your bliss.”  This, the Fellmans did, and in spades.  Now, all of us are protected by a cadre of angels.

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