The Power of Myth

Campbell argues that earlier civilizations designed physical spaces in ways that connected the individual to the cosmic order. He first describes the structure of a Navajo hogan—a shared dwelling as well as a ceremonial building. The structure opens towards the east where the sun rises, allowing the spirit to enter, and a fire sits at the center under an opening in the roof giving access to the gods. Campbell goes on to describe early Icelandic people who populated their circular island with settlements 432,000 Roman feet apart; 432,000, Campbell notes, is a sacred number, which appears in Hindu mythology in connection with Brahma’s lifespan (77). Wherever a person went in these societies, he argues, they understood their place in the universe. These examples highlight the difference between early and current spiritual awareness. The cosmic order is rarely considered in modern planning.

Campbell uses the evolution of Salt Lake City’s skyline to represent “the history of Western civilization” as it moved from spiritual centeredness to “this economic world that we’re in now” (119). Much like medieval cities, Salt Lake City’s tallest building was originally its church, signifying that spirituality was at the forefront of the city’s life. Then, the taller Capitol building was erected next door, suggesting a shift in priority toward more mundane concerns. Today, the tallest building is an office building, symbolizing a concern with money that Campbell sees as superficial. He likens this change to the evolution of metropolises such as New York, whose skyscrapers make a statement about the city’s financial power rather than its spiritual enlightenment.

Campbell states that Chartres Cathedral in France is dear to him because it reminds him of a time when “the goal […] was to live in constant consciousness of the spiritual principle” (120). Its structure brings him in tune with the essential messages of mythology that are still relevant today. The cathedral was built in the shape of a cross, with many small alcoves, making it impossible to view the entire interior at once. By contrast, Campbell describes modern churches as loud theatres where “visibility is important” (119). Campbell believes that modern churches hinder rather than promote inward contemplation, weakening the connection to the divine.

Campbell gives several examples to show how geography shapes a culture’s image of the divine. Communities that live in areas “clearly bounded by a circular horizon with a great dome of heaven above,” as on the American plains or in the desert, are more likely to have a single god looking down from above as the sun does (124). By contrast, communities that live in environments like the jungle or forest—with limited visibility over long distances—are more likely to have multiple gods that express aspects of the landscape. Although these figures are quite different, they all point towards an unspeakable, invisible, creative energy that can only be understood through symbols.

Campbell spends a significant portion of Chapter 4 exploring the ways early planting culture understood death and rot as bringing new life. The first examples he gives describe the mythic origin of crops. In a story that is both Algonquin and Polynesian, a young member of the community meets a mysterious man day after day. One day, the mysterious man asks the youth to kill him and bury his body in the ground. After doing so, the young person sees that crops begin to grow—maize in the Algonquin story and coconuts in the Polynesian story. In both stories, the death of the man is necessary for the life-sustaining food to grow. The stories are almost exact duplicates of each other, even though “there is no connection between the Pacific cultures and the cultures of middle America” (129). Campbell believes this similarity reveals the collective unconscious’s reflex to represent universal themes and questions through archetypal images.

Campbell also discusses rituals of sacrifice that help communities participate in and contemplate cycles of life and death. He compares a ritual of human sacrifice in New Guinea to the Catholic ritual of communion, both of which resemble the myth about the origin of staple crops. In New Guinea, the tribe sacrifices a pair of young people and ritually eats them. The youths symbolize the original savior who sacrificed himself to become the life-sustaining crop, and so their deaths will bring a wave of new life to the tribe. In the Catholic ritual of communion, the participants are meant to believe that the bread and wine they consume are the flesh and blood of Jesus Christ, who symbolizes “the food of the spirit” (133). Though the congregation doesn’t literally eat human flesh as they do in the New Guinean ritual, communion encourages a similar reflection on sacrifice for the benefit of humanity. Campbell frequently compares biblical stories to stories from seemingly different and distant cultures to combat the in-group mentality common in the biblical tradition and expose his Western audience to connections with peoples across time and place.

Campbell combines mythological stories with psychoanalytical theories both to support his readings of the myths and to show that mythological stories contain insights about deeply complex topics. Discussing a policeman who felt compelled to save a suicidal stranger, Campbell refers to Schopenhauer’s theory of sacrifice. In Campbell’s words, Schopenhauer argues that in moments of sacrifice, the individual has a

breakthrough of metaphysical realization, which is that you and that other are one, that you are two aspects of one life, and that your apparent separateness is but an effect of the way we experience forms under the conditions of space and time (138).

Campbell expands on Schopenhauer’s theory, arguing that sacrifice is an overpouring of compassion, which he defines as a willingness to suffer with the other. He expands on this definition by using the Buddhist image of a bodhisattva. These figures forego their access to the final stage of enlightenment to help others on their way. By contemplating sacrifice in either myth, ritual, or theory, the individual can achieve access to the transcendent through compassion.

A primary theme in The Power of Myth is Campbell’s advice that, to lead to a fulfilling life on earth, people should follow their bliss. He notes that bliss can only be found through experience and seeking. The key aspect, he states, is “learn[ing] to recognize your own depth” of interest and then having the courage to follow that interest (147). He uses his bliss as an example, revealing that the study of comparative mythology sustained him through times of suffering such as his poverty during the Great Depression. Campbell returns to the topic of following personal intuition into life’s possibilities in his discussion of the hero’s journey in Chapter 5 and sporadically throughout the rest of the book.

As a visual representation of following bliss, Campbell describes the medieval Wheel of Fortune, which symbolizes the fluctuations of human life. Along the outside of the wheel, things like wealth and health are constantly in motion, but “at the hub, you are in the same place all the time” (147). The activity that creates bliss, Campbell says, is like the hub of the wheel. By finding this center, an individual will have less difficulty dealing with the fluctuations of life. Campbell continues to examine the importance of circles and wheels for spiritual awareness in Chapter 8.