“Every journey has secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” — Martin Buber
In preparation for a series of 14-hour drives through farmland to my father’s, from Kentucky to Minnesota, I revisited the story of Odysseus. Most of you will remember his 20-year voyage, and the monsters, goddesses, Sirens and storms he met along the way. I felt the mythical impact of being called to attend to my 96-year-old father and his dying wife, but also the “something else” — the invisible difficult web present in the family legacy. I was trapped in that story, which creates a fixed frame of reference. A fixed frame of reference impedes the celestial help that is always here. I needed to have a deeper story inside me. Not the monkey-mind stories, but one from the universal myths that carry a perennial wisdom and a primordial knowing that has nothing to do with culture, race, gender, economics or time.
I. The Story as a Sacred Map
How can I begin to tell the transforming effect of having a story, which becomes a sacred map inside you? The map shows the next step, and the road is a pathway to traverse the human dilemma — the impossible circumstances we sometimes find ourselves in. I was not looking forward to walking into almost forty years of being banned from my stepmother’s family. In all that time (before she became ill), I met only a couple of her six siblings, and only for brief moments. My brother and sister had not met anyone in her family. The two families — the children of my father, and my stepmother’s siblings, Now I am back home. I feel the oar inside me. This is the fortification that is so needed, especially in these strange times. This inner reference point is the one that needs attention, that teaches you how to no longer be a victim of the divine, but a collaborator with the divine. and nephews — had never shared holidays or social occasions. Yet, soon we would all be thrown together with the prospect of our stepmother’s imminent death. Like Odysseus, I knew I had to prepare to meet the Cyclops, within and without. The Cyclops has only one eye, and therefore no depth perception. The Cyclops does not care who you are, does not listen to reason, and cannot be confronted directly. I knew, like Odysseus, my focus needed to be on getting to the other shore. This is the Home inside you, the place where you belong, and where you are recognized for who you are.
My fortitude and strength came from cultivating my imagination through this story, and taking the journey seriously by having reverence for each person who showed up. I had the certainty inside me that I was answering a call. This conviction lived alongside my uncertainty about how to care for my father, who is about to lose the wife that he loves, and have to sell his home of the last 40 years, and move across the country during an epidemic. And how do I care for my stepmother, at home in Hospice — a stepmother who comes out of those fairy tales where the father’s children end up in an oven?
“Out of the muck of your experience, you must re-enchant the world.“
— Tiresias, the blind seer, from Travels With Odysseus by Michael Goldberg
II. Signs Along the Way
When I was preparing for one of these trips, and planning to drive alone, Steven was clearing everything off of the shelves in our entryway in preparation for the installation of a new door. As I was leaving, he admired the empty shelves, so white and clean. But at the last moment, he reached way down under the bottom shelf, just to make sure he had everything, and pulled out a beautiful hand carved oar that we didn’t know was there. I recognized it immediately as the one belonging to Odysseus, and confirmation that I had both the guidance and the tools I needed to navigate this ocean of grief, conflict and misunderstanding.
“As you continue, which you will do, the way to proceed will become apparent to you.” — John Cage
Carrying the story and the oar (the latter was small enough to fit in my pocket) with me allowed me to have a curious, open stance to those I was told “would never speak to me.” Another story begins to emerge when you give the benefit of doubt and just see what will happen. It was not easy, but small miracles kept appearing — ancient locked doors, enemies and old patterns opened and transformed. It is true, as revealed in the stories, that help comes from unexpected places when you step fully in. I made a surprising and meaningful heartfelt alliance with the very one I was told was my worst enemy. He showed up at my father’s home one day, unannounced, a stranger at the door. I opened the door and introduced myself, and he said, “I know who you are, I came because I want to meet you.”
“But the hero-soul goes boldly in — and discovers the hags converted into goddesses and the dragons into watchdogs of the gods.”
— Joseph Campbell, The Hero With A Thousand Faces
III. The Funeral
Here is one of many stories from my last visit: How do I handle the inherent conflict of my father needing to be present at his beloved wife’s funeral with the knowledge that his wife was struggling to the end to design a ceremony inside a small church? It was one of the only churches to be found that would allow, in rising COVID times, a service indoors with no masks, no social distancing, and singing.
When my father and I arrived at the country church on County Road 10, we were the only ones wearing masks. I stood by him, outside the church, waiting to see what would happen. The funeral director kept asking him to go up the ramp, into the door of the church, and visit her body. After three attempts to convince my father to go in for the viewing, Dad gave his final refusal. I then let the funeral director know that I did not want my father to get COVID and have to die in isolation. I asked to be seated next to him by an open door. He brought out chairs, and my father and I sat behind the room the congregation was in, in the vestibule, in the doorway, wearing our masks. Afterward, the congregation walked to the cemetery to witness the lowering of the casket, and my father and I were directed to follow the white hearse in our car, where we could observe from our window. Now I felt like I had an ally in the funeral director. He unknowingly did something forbidden when he came up to the car afterward, offering me my stepmother’s bag of jewelry. Odysseus knew the dangers of accepting gifts from the Lotus Eaters, and the resulting peril of forgetting why he is here, and what he is meant to do. I refused the offer, and the director offered the jewels to others in the crowd. I let my father know that it was now time for the “wake” — another indoor event with food and lots of people. In all of these instances, I gave him information, but did not advise him. He pronounced: “I am done.” And we drove back to his house.
IV. The Return
The returning hero, to complete his adventure, must survive the impact of the world…. The trick in returning is to retain the wisdom gained on the quest, to integrate that wisdom into a human life, and then maybe figure out how to share the wisdom with the rest of the world.
— Joseph Campbell
Now I am back home. I feel the oar inside me. This is the fortification that is so needed, especially in these strange times. This inner reference point is the one that needs attention, that teaches you how to no longer be a victim of the divine, but a collaborator with the divine.
In the story of Odysseus, after his return home and his reunion with Penelope, some time passes, and he begins to get restless again. He forgets the inner wisdom he has gained on his long journey. He longs for the excitement and glory of the battles of his youth, he wants be a hero again, and go back out to sea. On the day he decides he can wait no longer, that he must go — he falls asleep outside in the sun, against a tree. Tiresias, the blind seer, visits him in a dream and says: Your journey now has nothing to do with glory, recognition or winning. You are not to go out to sea, but inland. It is time to cultivate and integrate the wisdom you already have inside you. You must carry your oar with you. You will know you have gone far enough in when you meet a stranger who mistakes your oar for a winnowing fan, as he has never even seen the sea. It is in this place that you must plant your oar in the earth, and then you will find your way back Home.
