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The Call to Adventure

ike many of the heroes in iconic stories, who take amazing journeys and face unimaginable foes, average people can also be called to adventure. The adventure itself is not always as apparent or literal as it is in myth, fiction, or drama; it may in fact be hidden from our consciousness entirely. But whatever the adventure is, it will most definitely be as challenging and dramatically transformational as the heroic journeys that permeate our culture.

Joseph Campbell explained in his seminal analysis of the world’s mythologies that average people are called to adventure, but responding to that call is optional. When the call is refused, an individual’s life might appear to go on as usual, but—as Jung observed—the unconscious is at work, creating synchronicities and dreams that allow their destined adventure to take place internally, where opposing forces battle.

That’s how the call to adventure played out for me, so I can attest that it can be an arduous process. It took me years of reflection to identify my adventure and to start to take steps toward integrating this journey into my life. It all started one fateful night in the late summer of 1997, when I was a normal thirteen-year-old growing up in the ordinary town of Meridian, Idaho.

I’m lying outside with a friend. We had been spending the summer sleeping under the stars. I see a bright light coming toward us. An airplane? No . . . it starts coming closer to us, then stops suddenly, then shoots straight up into the air and curves over the horizon and out of sight. We’re both alarmed and stunned.

Not unlike the dream of the blue orb I would have fifteen years later, this felt like an otherworldly intrusion into my ordinary world. It was like a beacon pulling me toward a new direction. “Follow me; come see what else is in store,” it seemed to say. But as a naive kid in a conventional environment, it was more intimidating than enticing. So I ignored it, removing it from my conscious thought.

In the intervening years, I continued to deny my call to the adventure of exploring worldviews that ran counter to my monotheistic upbringing. I became more depressed as my ego and my soul fought for control over my view of reality. It wasn’t until after intense processing, reflection, and dream work that I accepted new beliefs and ways of thinking and was finally relieved of the chronic depression that had plagued me. It was as if a guardian had been haunting me, and then became integrated only when I fully confronted it. This integration is not a one-time fix. Facing the shadow is an ongoing process that will occur over and over again throughout our lives.

I declined my invitation to the Hero’s Journey many times, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t already on the journey. This sort of rejection is normal, as often we are not in the right place or the right state of mind to continue forward intentionally. The Hero’s Journey is life itself, and every experience has something to teach us. If you don’t know where your journey is taking you, or you’re not even sure you want to be on a journey, don’t be discouraged. The journey is inevitable. You are making progress. The sooner you recognize that and learn how to work with rather than against the synchronicities, symbols, and dreams all around you, the faster and further you can progress on your journey. The challenge, should you accept it, is to confront the Guardian of the Threshold and cross into the portal.

DOORWAYS INTO THE DEPTHS

With a descent into the psyche, the individual must face the Guardian of the Threshold—that part of us that, according to Steiner’s An Outline of Occult Science, stands at “the portals of physical death.” When we overcome the Guardian of the Threshold, we answer the call to adventure and open the doorway to the Hero’s Journey. These doorways—or portals, as they are commonly known in oneirology—appear in dreams in many forms: doors, windows, paintings, mirrors, holes—anything the imagination can conjure as a gateway to a new reality. Like Alice through the looking glass, we can use our dreams to step into a new adventure and new inner worlds.

I wake up in my room. The Grim Reaper—a cloaked figure, face shrouded—is coming for me, summoning me. I’m terrified, and then step back from my fear to observe it. I walk up to the figure, and in one swift motion, I eat him. I am alone in a vacuum of silence.

A light shines from the hallway leading downstairs. As I cross through the doorway into the hall, I am suddenly walking down steps into a 1940s-style hotel lobby. Everything looks and feels real: granite walls, brass railing, the feeling of walking down the steps. I stop at a water fountain, cup my hand to drink from the fountain, and watch and feel the water moving over my hand. At the bottom of the stairs I walk into a dining area filled with people. They all stop and stare at me. I feel very out of place, and I know that this world would continue whether I’m here or not.

We may have many such dreams, as I have, in which we confront the Guardian of the Threshold and enter a new world. When those dreams leave us feeling as if we’ve achieved a new level of understanding, it can be thrilling: Who can I share this with? Or cause for concern: Am I crazy? If I tell anyone, will they think I’m crazy? The thoughts and judgments of others do not matter. These dreams and experiences don’t need external validation; they’re there for you alone. Talking to others may provide some guidance or encouragement, but there is enough in the dreams themselves to work with. From this point, you can embark on the adventure of exploring the nature of your dream world.