actually, they haven't disappeared, i simply forget to consult them. for example, FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA. as i sat in the san francisco poetry room of city lights books, looking at all the tomes on the shelves, pulling out this one and that one, searching for inspiration from poets past and present, only when i pulled down lorca's collected poems did i feel the rush of delight from the past. it is very odd, in a way, since he was obsessed with death from the beginning, and it's always present. early on he treats it in a child-like way, the landscape, the moon, stars, wind, the girl in the apple tree, always surviving the death of the rider passing by. there is a certain permanence in the song.
let's see, another hero might be CG Jung, the analyst and magician of the collective unconscious. one summer on stateline lookout at lake tahoe, i read 44 books by and about him. i'm not sure how he consoled me. mostly his concept of the Anima, the image of the perfect woman in each man, seemed to apply to myself. he describes her as very demanding, never satisfied with any human woman you may choose, also competitive with her and extremely critical. my own moods seem dominated by such an inner witch. not surprising, since my mother harsh with all my girlfriends. she, too, couldn't stand any competition.
jung's concept of the archetypes explained a lot to me, especially the trends of history, how one would dominate a certain time i lived in. ah, i've forgotten how he did it all! the vision would certainly apply to the time we know and hate. Could it be the archetype of the Lie? what i admired most, i supposed was the life he created, how he kept himself sane, working with his hands and having a brilliant mistress. he knew how to stabilize himself and actually created a psychological mythology and method which could be of use to many people, especially artists. and he could pursue a thought down to the depths of a rabbit hole. also with mandalas, he created a way to use art as a stabilizing force.
what other heroes came and went? i'm trying to think of my early days in sports. i was never very good at any of them, though i played tennis, baseball, football, basketball, and bowling. not being a team player, i could never pass the ball and served out my days on the third string bench. i do remember admiring willy mays and i quote him often: "i go with my strengths and forget about my weaknesses." that still seems to me very good advice. alas, i have spent way too much time being lost in efforts to be rational and calm. even years of therapy never brought that about.
the only politician on my list JOHN F KENNEDY, a bit tarnished by time, all his messing about with prostitutes secretly brought into the white house by the back door, his suspicious shadow over the death of marilyn monroe, his getting us involved in vietnam. a hero may only remain one by my knowing too little more than too much. they're really actors on the stage, magnified by their simplicity. the character strutting the boards before me not human beings but mythologies. that's what heroes do, they create myths of themselves. and i absorb the energy they give off in the process.
alas, all heroes prove to be human-all-too-human. as real people they die. that's a fact i can never quite get beyond. true, their stories live on, i can participate in them vicariously, and be inspired by certain events, certain works. i have become too cynical, too worldly, and yet when i remember to go back to the source, THE HEROES JOURNEY, and do what i can to remember my own, i'm revitalized. it's a lesson i have to learn over and over again.
