Read Online A Joseph Campbell Companion: Reflections on the Art of Living (Collected Works of Joseph Campbell) by Joseph Campbell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joseph Campbell
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precious thing in her life can go.
H ave I ever told you about the ritual in Kentucky where I had to give up seven things? It was one of the most interesting group experiences I’ve ever had. We were a group of about forty-nine people in one of those meetings of some society for the transformation of consciousness. Two couples from the University of Vermont, professors and their wives, had arranged a ritual that we were all going to undertake. We were divided into seven groups of seven and told to spend a day thinking of the seven things without which we’d not want to live: “What are the seven things for which you feel your life is worth living?” Then you were to gather seven little objects, small enough to hold in your hand, which were to represent your seven cherished things, and you were to know which was which.
In the evening we went down a wooded road in the dark to the mouth of a cave. The cave had a wooden door on it which could be opened. In front of the door was a man wearing the mask of a dog: Cerberus at the gate of hell. He put his hand out and said, “Give me that which you least cherish.” When you gave him one of the little objects you were holding, he opened the door and allowed you to enter.
Then you proceeded forward through the cave, an enormous place, holding the six remaining things you most cherished. On five further occasions, you were asked to surrender that which you least cherished, until you were left with one object that represented what you treasured most. And you found out what it was, believe me. You really, really did. And the order in which you gave up your treasures was revelatory: you really knew what your order of values was. Then you came to an exit, where there were two people between whom you had to go. But before you could go through that guarded exit, you had to give up that which you most cherished.
I can tell you that ritual worked. All of the participants with whom I’ve talked had an actual experience of mokṣa , “release,” when they had given up their last treasure. One damned fool was the exception. He did not give up anything. That’s how seriously this ritual was taken. When he was asked to give up something, he just stooped down, picked up a pebble, and handed that over. That’s the refusal of the call.
…every failure to cope with a life situation must be laid, in the end, to a restriction of consciousness. Wars and temper tantrums are the makeshifts of ignorance; regrets are illuminations come too late. 46
The exciting thing to me was the actual experience. It was a feeling of joyous participation. Watching your earlier bondages go really did change your feeling for the treasures you’d given up. It increased your love for them without the tenacity. I was amazed.
T HE meditation associated with catastrophes like the end of the world is on this process of coming and going, coming and going, and settling yourself at peace with the fact that things come and go.
Apocalypse
does not point to a fiery Armageddon,
but to our ignorance and complacency
coming to an end.
I’ve been feeling that a terrific amount of the anxiety associated with the fear of an impending atomic explosion and the dissolution of the universe is a projection of anxiety coming from a world of people who have never found the center beyond coming and going. If you are at peace with eternity, the blowing up of the universe is perfectly acceptable—just as your own death has to be acceptable. It is going with organic processes. Everything that comes… goes.
…the hero would be no hero if death held for him any terror; the first condition is reconciliation with the grave. 47
Chief Seattle, of the Indians that inhabited the Seattle area, wrote a wonderful paper that has to do with putting oneself in tune with the universe. He said, “Why should I lament the disappearance of my people? All things end, and the white man will find this out also.” And this goes
H ave I ever told you about the ritual in Kentucky where I had to give up seven things? It was one of the most interesting group experiences I’ve ever had. We were a group of about forty-nine people in one of those meetings of some society for the transformation of consciousness. Two couples from the University of Vermont, professors and their wives, had arranged a ritual that we were all going to undertake. We were divided into seven groups of seven and told to spend a day thinking of the seven things without which we’d not want to live: “What are the seven things for which you feel your life is worth living?” Then you were to gather seven little objects, small enough to hold in your hand, which were to represent your seven cherished things, and you were to know which was which.
In the evening we went down a wooded road in the dark to the mouth of a cave. The cave had a wooden door on it which could be opened. In front of the door was a man wearing the mask of a dog: Cerberus at the gate of hell. He put his hand out and said, “Give me that which you least cherish.” When you gave him one of the little objects you were holding, he opened the door and allowed you to enter.
Then you proceeded forward through the cave, an enormous place, holding the six remaining things you most cherished. On five further occasions, you were asked to surrender that which you least cherished, until you were left with one object that represented what you treasured most. And you found out what it was, believe me. You really, really did. And the order in which you gave up your treasures was revelatory: you really knew what your order of values was. Then you came to an exit, where there were two people between whom you had to go. But before you could go through that guarded exit, you had to give up that which you most cherished.
I can tell you that ritual worked. All of the participants with whom I’ve talked had an actual experience of mokṣa , “release,” when they had given up their last treasure. One damned fool was the exception. He did not give up anything. That’s how seriously this ritual was taken. When he was asked to give up something, he just stooped down, picked up a pebble, and handed that over. That’s the refusal of the call.
…every failure to cope with a life situation must be laid, in the end, to a restriction of consciousness. Wars and temper tantrums are the makeshifts of ignorance; regrets are illuminations come too late. 46
The exciting thing to me was the actual experience. It was a feeling of joyous participation. Watching your earlier bondages go really did change your feeling for the treasures you’d given up. It increased your love for them without the tenacity. I was amazed.
T HE meditation associated with catastrophes like the end of the world is on this process of coming and going, coming and going, and settling yourself at peace with the fact that things come and go.
Apocalypse
does not point to a fiery Armageddon,
but to our ignorance and complacency
coming to an end.
I’ve been feeling that a terrific amount of the anxiety associated with the fear of an impending atomic explosion and the dissolution of the universe is a projection of anxiety coming from a world of people who have never found the center beyond coming and going. If you are at peace with eternity, the blowing up of the universe is perfectly acceptable—just as your own death has to be acceptable. It is going with organic processes. Everything that comes… goes.
…the hero would be no hero if death held for him any terror; the first condition is reconciliation with the grave. 47
Chief Seattle, of the Indians that inhabited the Seattle area, wrote a wonderful paper that has to do with putting oneself in tune with the universe. He said, “Why should I lament the disappearance of my people? All things end, and the white man will find this out also.” And this goes
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