Not Knowing the Way: Rich Peter the Peddler and leaving home

"Leaving home" is an interesting metaphor for the call to significant change. This episode is a reflection on intention, uncertainty, and how myths can help us listen to the soul and find clarity around the risks and purpose of the journey. 

Thanks for listening and keep the mystery in your life alive...

Transcript

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Hello and welcome to Myth Matters an exploration at the intersection of mythology, creativity and consciousness. I’m your host Dr. Catherine Svehla. Wherever you may be in this wide beautiful crazy world of ours, I’m glad that you decided to join me here today.

In the last couple of episodes, we’ve been talking about "leaving home," literally and figuratively, as a metaphor that helps us imagine into the collective processes underway now. The initiations and transformations. We've been reflecting on "leaving home" and how it takes place in myths and stories to deepen our sense of the current re-visioning of the human story, a re-visioning that involves each of us. The mythopoesis of our identity and place and sense of purpose on earth and in the cosmos, and of our many systems, cultures, and ethics. Even our aesthetics, our commitment to beauty and definitions of value. 

"Leaving home" is a meaningful experience and potent metaphor for many--maybe all of us-- and a call that quite a few are hearing now, today. Where is leaving home in our stories? How do people do it? Are any of the observation that we make or conclusions that we draw from these narratives that have been handed down helpful to us now? 

These are questions that are best posed to the body of work, to myths and stories in general I think, because there is no one "right" story for every person in a given moment due to the tremendous variety in our lives and circumstances, and that type of absolutism about truth and meaning is one of the dissolving certainties. Our investigation is a look at patterns, for what tends to happen, how we tend to tell it.  I think it’s interesting and helpful to think about how we have narrated the things that happened to us, how we have described the situations in which we find ourselves, and reflect on what this suggests about our lives right now.

That said, I do have a story for you today. It's not "the" story in any sense, not an illustration of a specific point but rather a story that has a number of characters and events that appear in lots of other stories and may function as a representative and give us something to think about today. The story is the tale of "Rich Peter the Peddler." This is a Norwegian story that I found in East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon,  a collection of fairy and folk tales collected by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe, translated by George Webbe Dasent.

As I mentioned, there are lots of characters in this story and lots of action. Bits and pieces that appear in other fairy and folk tales and I think you’ll be reminded of other stories that you know. Before I share this story, let me tell you what's been percolating in my brain on the theme of "leaving home" as I approach this third episode around this idea and step into this story.

In brief, that the characters in stories generally don't really know what they're doing. Yes, they might have intention and occasionally even some scrap of a plan but while the events narrated in the story are taking place, the characters involved don’t know what’s going on. The knowing and air of inevitability in a story comes from the storyteller, who has the benefit of retrospection and in some cases, a bird's eye view of the action, and from the crafting of the story. The sense and order in the chaos is found and constructed through making the story. 

This suggests to me that people, you and me and others in the world, don’t really know what they’re doing or what's going on while we're living a story. We only see what's finished or what we bring to an end, afterward. Maybe you find this idea rather scary. I hope not. I find it reassuring. Because while we may not know as much as we like to imagine that we do, we can find clarity around the decisions that we make, and this may be the most important element especially when it comes to decisions about leaving home. I'll say more about this after the story.

For now, as always, I invite you to relax and listen to the story. Notice what jumps out at you and makes you wonder for a moment. And I invite you to lightly hold the notion that no one really knows what he/she/they are doing, in your mind someplace as you listen, if you can. There will be characters in this story with intentions and plans, yes, but do any of them really know what they’re doing or end up where they expected, or grasp the big picture?

"Rich Peter the Peddler"

ONCE on a time there was a man called Rich Peter the Peddler, because he used to travel about with a pack and got so much money that he became quite rich. This Rich Peter had a daughter, whom he held so dear that all who came to woo her were sent about their business, for no one was good enough for her, he thought. Well, this went on and on, and at last no more suitors came and Peter began to be afraid that she would die unmarried. 

"I wonder," he said to his wife, "why suitors no longer come to woo our daughter. After all, she's very rich.  I think I'd better just go off to the Stargazers and ask them who will marry her." 

"But how can the Stargazers answer that?" asked the wife. "Can't they?" said Peter; "why! they read all things in the stars." So, Peter took a great big bag of money and set off to the Stargazers. He asked them to please look at the stars and tell him the husband his daughter was to have. 

Well, the Stargazers looked and looked, but they said they could see nothing about it. Peter begged them to look again and to tell him the truth; he would pay them well for it. So, the Stargazers looked again and at last they said that his daughter's husband was to be the miller's son, who was only just born, down at the mill below Rich Peter's house. Then Peter gave the Stargazers a hundred dollars and went home with this answer. 

Now, he thought it too good a joke that his daughter should wed one so newly born and of such poor estate. He said this to his wife, and added, "I wonder if they would sell me the boy; then I could put him out of the way?" "I daresay they would," said his wife; "you know they're very poor." 

So, Peter went down to the mill, and asked the miller's wife whether she would sell him her son. They clearly needed the money. "Absolutely not!" she said. "Well!" said Peter, "I can't see why not. You work enough as it is to keep hunger out of the house, and the boy won't make it easier." But the mother loved her son and was proud of  him. She wouldn't part with him. 

So, Peter waited for the miller to come home and said the same thing to him. He promised to pay six hundred dollars for the boy, so that they might buy themselves a farm of their own and not have to grind other folks' corn and starve when they ran short of water. The miller thought it was a good bargain. He talked it over with his wife and in the end they decided to sell the boy to Peter. The mother cried and sobbed, but Peter comforted her by saying the boy would be well cared for. Only they had to promise never to ask after him, for he said he meant to send their son far away to other lands, so that he might learn foreign tongues. 

When Peter the Peddler got home with the boy he sent for a carpenter, and had a little chest made. He made this chest water-tight with pitch, put the miller's boy into it, locked it up, and threw it into the river, where the stream carried it away. "Now, I'm rid of him," he thought. 

But the chest floated down the stream until it came into the mill-head of another mill. There it got stuck in the shaft of the mill wheel and stopped it. The miller went to fix the problem, found the chest, and took it out of the water. He took it home at dinner time and showed it to his wife. "I wonder what's inside this chest, which came floating down the mill-head and stopped our mill to-day?" he said. "We'll know soon enough," said his wife; "see, there's the key in the lock, just turn it." 

They turned the key and opened the chest, and surprise! there was the prettiest child they'd ever seen. They were both glad and ready to keep the child, for they didn't have any children of their own and were now too old.

In the meantime, Peter the Peddler's daughter still had no suitors and he couldn't understand it, since she was so rich in land and money. At last, he went to the Stargazers again and offered them a heap of money if they could tell him whom his daughter was to have for a husband. 

"Why, we have told you already, that she is to have the miller's son," said the Stargazers. 

"Yes you did," said Peter the Peddler "but it so happens that he's dead. So, if you can tell me the name of her intended husband, I'll give you two hundred dollars and my thanks." The Stargazers looked at the stars again but they got quite cross, and said, "We told you before, and we tell you now, she is to have the miller's son, whom you threw into the river, and wished to make an end of. He is alive, safe and sound, in such and such a mill, far down the stream." 

Peter the Peddler gave them two hundred dollars for this news. Then he thought about how to be rid of the miller's son. The first thing he did when he got home was to set off for the mill. By that time the boy was so big that he had been confirmed, and helped the miller. He was also quite handsome.

"Can you spare me your helper?" Peter asked the miller. "No, I can't," he answered. "I've brought him up as my own son, and he's turned out so well and is a great help to me in the mill, for I'm getting old and past work." 

"It's the same with me," said Peter, "that's why I'd like to have someone to learn my trade. If you give him up to me, I'll give you six hundred dollars and then you can buy yourself a farm, and live in peace and quiet the rest of your days." When the miller heard that, he let Peter the Peddler have the lad. 

The two travelled about far and wide with their packs and wares, until they came to an inn situated by the edge of a great wood. Peter told the boy that they should send word back to his wife and gave him a letter for her. "It's not a long way if you take the short cut across the wood," he told the boy. "Give her this letter and tell her to be sure and do what I've written as quickly as possible."

Well, in the letter Peter instructed his wife to make a big fire and throw the miller's son into it. If she didn't do that, he wrote, he'd burn her alive himself when he came home. 

The unsuspecting boy set off with the letter across the wood. When evening came on he reached a house far, far away in the wood. He went inside and no one was there, but there was a bed in one of the rooms so, he stuck the letter into his hat-band, laid down, pulled the hat over his face, and fell asleep.

Now, this was the home of a band of robbers. When they came back, they saw the lad fast asleep on the bed and wondered who he could be. One of them took the letter, broke it open, and read it. 

"He! he!" he said, "this comes from Peter the Peddler. Well, we'll play a trick on him, then. It would be a pity if the old scoundrel made an end of such a handsome lad." 

So, the robbers wrote another letter to Peter's wife and fastened it under the boy's hat-band while he slept. In their letter, the wife was instructed to make a wedding for her daughter and the miller's boy straightaway, and give them horses and cattle, and household stuff, and set them up on the farm that he had under the hill. And if he didn't find all this done by the time he came back she'd smart for it—that was all. 

The next day the robbers let the lad go and when he arrived at the peddler's house he delivered the letter, and told the wife that her husband sent kind greetings and wanted her to carry out what was written in the letter as soon as possible. 

"You must have behaved very well then," the wife said to the miller's boy, "if he can write so about you now, for when he set off, he was so mad against you he didn't know how to put you out of the way." She married the boy and her daughter on the spot, and set them up for themselves as instructed in the letter. Not long after Peter the Peddler came home, and the first thing he asked was if she had done what he had written in his letter. "Oh yes," she said; "I thought it rather odd, but I dared not do anything else." 

Then Peter asked where his daughter was. "Why, you know well enough where she is," said his wife. "Where should she be but up at the farm under the hill, as you wrote in the letter." Then Peter the Peddler heard the whole story and saw the letter. He got so angry he almost burst with rage and ran to the farm and the young couple. 

"It's all very well, my son, to say you have got my daughter," he said to the miller's lad, "but if you wish to keep her, you must go to the Dragon of Deepferry, and get me three feathers out of his tail; for he who has them may get anything he chooses." 

"But where shall I find him?" said his son-in-law. "I'm sure I don't know" said Peter the Peddle; "that's your problem, not mine." So, the lad set off with a stout heart and after he had walked some way he came to a king's palace. 

"I'll just step in here and ask," he said to himself, "for such great folk know more about the world and perhaps I'll learn the way to the Dragon." The king asked him where he came from and where he was going. "Oh!" said the lad, "I'm going to the Dragon of Deepferry to pluck three feathers out of his tail, if I only knew where to find him." 

"You must take luck with you, then," said the King, "for I never heard of anyone who came back from that search. But if you find him, please ask him for me, why I can't get clear water in my well. I've dug it out time after time and still I can't get a drop of clear water." 

"Yes, I'll be sure to ask him," said the lad. He stayed at the palace for a short time and got money and food when he left it. After a short journey, he came to another king's palace and when he went into the kitchen, the King came out of the parlor and asked where he came from and where he was going. 

"Oh," said the lad, "I'm going to the Dragon of Deepferry to pluck three feathers out of his tail." "Then you must take luck with you," said the King, for I've never heard of anyone who came back who went to look for him. But if you find him, be so good as to ask him from me where my daughter is, as she's been lost many years. I have hunted for her and had her name given out in every church in the country but no one can tell me anything about her. 

"Yes, I'll do that," said the lad; and he was treated well in that palace too and when he went away he got both money and food. When evening drew on again he came to another king's palace. Here who should come out into the kitchen but the Queen, and she asked him where he came from and where he was going. 

"I'm going to the Dragon of Deepferry, to pluck three feathers out of his tail," said the lad.  "Then you'd better take a good piece of luck with you," said the Queen, "for I've never heard of anyone that came back from him. But if you find him, please be good enough to ask him from me where I shall find my gold keys which I have lost." 

"Yes, I'll be sure to ask him," said the lad. Well, when he left that palace he came to a great broad river. He was standing there wondering whether he should cross it or go down along the bank when an old hunch-backed man came up, and asked where he was going. 

"Oh, I'm going to the Dragon of Deepferry, if I could only find anyone to tell where I can find him." "I can tell you that," said the man; "as I go backwards and forwards, and carry those over who are going to see him. He lives just across the river and when you climb the hill you'll see his castle. But please, if you talk with him, ask him from me how long I have to stay here and carry folk over." 

"I'll be sure to ask him," said the lad. So, the man took him on his back and carried him over the river. Then the boy climbed the hill, saw the castle and went in. He found a Princess there who lived with the Dragon all alone. 

"My dear young man," she said, "how did you come to be here? No one has come since I arrived and you'd best be off as fast as you can, for as soon as the Dragon comes home he'll smell you out and gobble you up in a second, and that'll make me so unhappy." 

"No" said the lad, "I can't go before I've got three feathers out of his tail." "You'll never get them," said the Princess; "you'd best be off." But the lad wouldn't go. He was determined to wait for the Dragon, get the feathers, and an answer to all his questions. 

"Well, since you're so steadfast I'll see what I can do to help you," said the Princess; "Try to lift the sword that hangs on the wall over there." Well, the lad couldn't even budge it. 

"I thought so," said the Princess; "take a drink out of this flask." he did so, and sat awhile, and when he tried again he could just move it.

"Well! you must take another drink," said the Princess, "and then you may as well tell me what brought you here." 

So, he took another drink and then he told her how one king had begged him to ask the Dragon how it was he couldn't get clear water in his well?—how another had begged him to ask what had become of his daughter, who had been lost many years since?—and how a queen had begged him to ask the Dragon what had become of her gold keys?—and, last of all, how the ferryman had begged him to ask the Dragon how long he was to stay there and carry folk over? When he had done his story, and took hold of the sword, he could lift it. And when he had taken another drink, he could brandish it. 

"Now," said the Princess, "if you don't want the Dragon to make an end of you you'd best hide under the bed, for night is drawing on, and he'll be home soon. Then you must lie as still as you can so he doesn't find you out. When we've gone to bed, I'll ask him your questions but you must keep your ears open and snap up all that he says, and stay under the bed until all is still and the Dragon is fast asleep. Then creep out softly and seize the sword, and as soon as he rises, cut off his head at one stroke and pluck out the three feathers at the same time. Otherwise, he'll tear them out himself so no one may get any good from them." 

The lad crept under the bed and the Dragon came home. "I smell Christian flesh," said the Dragon. "Oh yes," said the Princess, "a raven came flying with a man's bone in his bill, and perched on the roof. No doubt that's what you smell." "So it is, I daresay," said the Dragon. 

The Princess served supper and after they had eaten, they went to bed. They laid there for a bit and then the Princess began to toss about, and all at once she started up and said,— "Ah! ah!" 

"What's the matter?" said the Dragon. "Oh," said the Princess, "I can't rest at all, and I've had such a strange dream."  "What did you dream about? Let's hear?" said the Dragon. 

"I thought a king came here, and asked you what he must do to get clear water in his well." "Oh," said the Dragon, "If he dug the well out and took out the old rotten stump which lies at the bottom, he'd get clear water fast enough. But be still now, and don't dream any more." 

The Princess laid there for a while and then she began to toss about, and at last she started up with her "Ah! ah!" 

"What's the matter now?" said the Dragon. "Oh! I can't get any rest at all, and I've had such a strange dream," said the Princess. "Why, you seem full of dreams to-night," said the Dragon: "what was your dream now?" 

"I thought a king came here, and asked you what had become of his daughter who had been lost many years since," said the Princess. "Why, you are his daughter," said the Dragon; "but he'll never set eyes on you again. Now, do be still and let me get some rest, and don't have any more dreams or else I'll break your ribs." 

Well, the Princess laid there only a short time before she began to toss about again. At last, she started up with her "Ah! ah!" 

"What! Are you at it again?" said the Dragon. What's the matter now?"  He was wild and sleep-surly, and ready to fly to pieces. "Oh, don't be angry" said the Princess; "but I've had such a strange dream." "The deuce take your dreams," roared the Dragon; what did you dream this time?" 

"I thought a queen came here, who asked you to tell her where she would find her gold keys, which she has lost." "Oh," said the Dragon, "she'll find them soon enough if she looks among the bushes where she lay that time she got drunk. But now no more dreams, and let me sleep in peace." 

They slept a while but then the Princess became restless again and screamed out— "Ah! ah!" 

"I should break your neck," said the Dragon, who was now so angry  that sparks of fire flew out of his eyes. "What's the matter now?" "Oh, don't be so angry," said the Princess; "I can't bear that. But I've had such a strange dream." "Bless me!" said the Dragon; "if I ever heard the like of these dreams—there's no end to them. And pray, what did you dream now?" 

"I thought the ferryman down at the ferry came and asked how long he was to stop there and carry folk over," said the Princess. "The dull fool!" said the Dragon; "he could easily be free. When anyone comes who wants to go across he has only start across and then throw him into the river, and say 'Now, carry folk over yourself till someone sets you free.' But no more dreams now or else I'll lead you a pretty dance." 

So, the Princess let him sleep on. But as soon as all was still and the miller's lad heard the Dragon snored, he crept out from under the bed. Before it was light the Dragon rose but he had scarcely set both his feet on the floor before the lad cut off his head and plucked three feathers out of his tail. Then came great joy, and both the lad and the Princess took as much gold, and silver, and money, and precious things as they could carry.

When they came down to the ford, the ferryman was so puzzled and surprised that he forgot to ask what the Dragon had said about him till they had got across. "Hey sir," he said, as they were going off, "did you ask the Dragon what I begged you to ask?" 

"Yes, I did," said the lad, "and he said, 'When any one comes and wants to go over, you must throw him into the midst of the river, and say 'Now, carry folk over yourself till someone comes to set you free,' and then you'll be free." "Ah, bad luck to you," said the ferryman; "had you told me that before you might have set me free yourself." 

When they got to the first palace, the Queen asked if he had spoken to the Dragon about her gold keys. "Yes," said the lad, and whispered in the Queen's ear; "He said you must look among the bushes where you lay the day you got drunk." "Hush!" said the Queen, and gave the lad a hundred dollars. 

When they came to the second palace the King asked if he had asked the Dragon his question. "Yes," said the lad, "I did and here is your daughter." The King was so glad that he would gladly have given the Princess and half the kingdom to the lad, but since he was married already he gave him two hundred dollars, and coaches and horses, and as much gold and silver as he could carry away. 

When he came to the third King's palace, out came the King and asked if he had asked the Dragon his question. "Yes," said the lad, "and he said you must dig out the well and take out the rotten old stump that lies at the bottom, and then you'll get plenty of clear water." 

The King gave him three hundred dollars and he set out home, but he was so loaded with gold and silver, and so grandly clothed, that it gleamed and glistened from him. He was far richer than Peter the Peddler now. 

When Peter got the feathers he didn't have another word to say against the wedding, but when he saw all that wealth, he asked if there was much still left at the Dragon's castle. 

"Yes, I should think so," said the lad. "There was much more than I could carry with me—so much, that you might load many horses with it. If you choose to go you may be sure there'll be enough for you." 

His son-in-law told him the way so clearly that he hadn't to ask it of anyone. "But the horses," said the lad, "you'd best leave this side the river, for the old ferryman, he'll carry you over safe enough." 

So, Peter set off and took with him great store of food and many horses to carry back gold, but he left them behind on the river's brink as the lad had suggested. The old ferryman took him upon his back but when they had come a bit out into the stream he cast him into the midst of the river, and said,— "Now you may go backwards and forwards here, and carry folk over till you are set free." 

And unless someone has set him free, there goes Rich Peter the Peddler backwards and forwards, and carries folk across this very day. 

So, who in this story knew what he or she was doing? Peter had the clearest plans and yet he was foiled over and over again and was eventually trapped in a repetitive type of hell. Not what he had planned. One could point to the sense of social or karmic justice that often prevails in fairy tales to explain this and I buy it, find satisfaction in it, and yet what I notice today in light of my questions, is that his intentions and plans didn't make him sufficiently knowledgeable or wise about his prospects to bring him success.

Can this observation help us respond to the calls that we are hearing, the nudges that are coming from within and without? If you’re contemplating a change and at the same time, insisting on some guarantee that whatever transpires is going to take place within the scenarios you have already imagined, then you may not take the necessary chances. 

The stories that we tell suggest that you don’t have to have a complete grasp on what you’re doing before you begin. You can start with an intention and learn along the way because things won’t go as planned. That’s a given. This is why meaningful changes requires courage. Leaving home is a journey into the unknown and unknowable future and there's always risk.

Is the change that’s pressing on you or the dream that beckons worth the risk? 

Only you know. Only you know because it’s your life, your call, and the truth is in the feeling, in your body, the energy of what you might call the deep self, intuition, daimon, or soul. The machinations of the ego consciousness focus on what we have to lose, or might have to lose, if we leave familiar ground but the questions that bring more clarity are: what do I have to gain and/or what is the cost of staying? Of saying no to this call? It's the deep self, the soul, that can best weigh the options, answer those questions, because this aspect your psyche is concerned with your aliveness, with the quality of your life experience and realization of self. 

The point is to be true to yourself.

 If we don't listen to this, if we don't follow the feeling that rises up,  we sacrifice what matters most. The opportunity to find out who we are and what we can do. To be alive.

How do we listen and make space? Reflecting with the aid of stories is a good practice. If you are facing a big change in your life right now, one that feels significant, you might reflect on yourself and your situation through the lens of this story and see where that takes you. Step back from the worries and schemes and be curious. This is between you and you, after all. No one else needs to know what you uncover. 

You might look at the behavior of the different characters and what happens to them, and consider the decisions that you face in their light. See if this changes your conversation with yourself. See if this changes your calculus. The point isn’t to turn to the story for specific direction exactly as if it’s some type of oracle. It's to invite imagination and that other knowing, to get out of the mental ruts of the repeating internal arguments and find some measure of clarity.

So, you might put yourself in the place of each of the characters and consider how you are or have been like them, or how you are different. For example, are you trying to manipulate a situation from a misplaced or incorrect sense of value like the peddler? That’s how I characterize him anyway, you may have a different view. He makes faulty calculations, rejects the answers that he receives because they don’t fit his expectations. How about his over reliance on the power of money? His dishonesty? Can you relate to this part of the story? Are you trying to manage things that are beyond your control or none of your business? 

Presumably, none of us share the peddler's criminal intent and yet these are interesting metaphors. He tries to put an end to something inconvenient, to control fate. I can see some of my errors in this light.

Or maybe you're at home waiting for orders like the wife. Doing what comes handed down even though you have serious questions about it. Are you passive like the daughter, letting others decide your value or fate? What about the boy, the lad. How would you describe his actions? Is he responding inventively to what presents itself? How much of what he does comes from a clear intention or plan? These are just examples of directions a reflection could take and may not correspond to your take on the actions or character of the characters. That’s fine. Go where your thoughts take you and notice.

Notice what you notice and how you think about those details, and let this inform your thought process about the decisions facing you in your own life. Myths and stories don’t tell us what to do so much as they offer context for reflection. They describe liminal spaces and changes that take place in those spaces. They can be a catalyst for good questions.

I have a poem for you before we close but first---A big welcome to new email subscribers: Hannah, Dawn, Vildan, Christina, Mary, Megan, Karen, Stephen, Luigi, Linda, Kate, Josh, Paul, Jen, Rod, Marla, Graciela, Audrey, Heather, and Chand. Welcome!

If you're new to Myth Matters, I invite you to head over to the Mythic Mojo website. You'll find a transcript of this episode and information about the mythic mentorship and creativity coaching that I offer. You can also join the email list if you'd like to receive links to new Myth Matters episodes in your inbox.

I have a couple of special offerings for you right now as well. 

First on the calendar, I'm offering an in-person workshop on the myth of Inanna in Kingston New York on September 25th. This is in conjunction with Greater Mysteries, an immersive musical and ritual experience created by Kelli Scarr, who was a guest on Myth Matters in June. I'm super psyched to collaborate with Kelli as she creates various preparatory offerings for folks coming to the Greater Mysteries performances, following the model of the ancient Eleusinian Mysteries. There's also a self-guided online version of the workshop for folks who plan to attend Greater Mysteries but can't join me on the 25th. Links for more information about all of this are posted with the transcript of this episode.

And registration is open for Step Into the Fairy Glen, my online-dive-into-a-story workshop. Step Into the Fairy Glen is two-weeks, from October 21st through November 5th. The story that we explore together in this workshop has been a  magical catalyst for insight and clarity for many who've stepped into the story with me.  All of the details are available at mythicmojo.com.

Thank you, thank you to my amazing Patreon patrons and supporters on Bandcamp. A big shout out of thanks to Stephen, Jane, Chris, and Jeff for your ongoing support.  If you're finding something of value in this podcast and can afford to send a few dollars a month my way, I hope you will consider doing that. Reciprocity is the golden rule in the fairy tale world and the glue that holds community together in this one. Thank you so much for your support of Myth Matters in whatever form makes sense for you. 

In closing, a poem that's become a classic on the subject of leaving home, "The Journey" by Mary Oliver.

"The Journey" by Mary Oliver, from Dreamworks

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice –
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do –
determined to save
the only life you could save.

If we have a better understanding of our need for myth, and all that our old stories offer, we can live more satisfying lives. We can inhabit a better story and create a more beautiful, just and sustainable world. 

And that's it for me, Catherine Svehla and Myth Matters. Take good care of yourself my friend and until next time, keep the mystery in your life alive.