Everyday myth

I’ve been thinking about myths lately, their place in our modern world, why we crave them so, and how we satisfy our need for them. Appropriate given the highly packaged, minutely stage managed myth-generation factory that is the recently completed Democratic National Convention in Denver, CO.

People with a lot more dedication than I have spend years studying Greek myths and how those archetypes apply to current society and culture but so far in the dissection of what your inner goddess might be and how those myths affected the development of every European culture and religion nothing has yet made it to the pop non-fiction charts that talks about why the need for myth is so pervasive in current American culture. And make no mistake, we do need myths just about as much as we need clean water and oxygen to breathe.

The fact is that American life, and probably life in just about every other developed, stable culture on the planet, is nasty and brutish despite the magnificent creature comforts of indoor plumbing, reliable water supplies, and the 8 hour work day, and it delivers diametrically opposed messages about who and what you should be. In myriad ways our culture tells us that unless you achieve some modicum of celebrity, whether its because you discover the disease or the cure for the disease, become President, go on a multi-state killing spree, or simply because you’ve whored yourself out enough to become famous simply for being famous, you will not be remembered. You are unimportant. You. do. not. matter.

It is this search for import which has extended to a search for existence itself that, I think, drives the currently in vogue constant striving for any bit of celebrity – your video gets a zillion hits on YouTube, your picture from that time when you were drunk and you did that thing that someone posted on MySpace gets circulated around the planet by a bunch of bored frat boys, your trollish, hate filled rantings get you coverage in the New York Times – that justify your existence. It is the other message, though, that really confuses, and that, when combined with this first message that celebrity is the only thing that makes you real, that makes you matter, causes modern life to be such a complete and utter mindfuck.

The other message we get from our culture is that we are vitally important and our culture can not function without us. Everything we do matters, from the kind of light bulbs we choose to the choices we make at the ballot box. Our dollars matter, our opinions matter, what we think, drive, eat, buy, save, spend, and how we amuse ourselves are the engine that keeps our culture running. Every one of us has something valuable to contribute withdrawing from the work-earn-spend grind is the absolute worst thing we can do.

Is it any wonder culturally we’re a disoriented mess?

It is these diametrically opposed messages that drive the search for meaning that is expressed in art and in the better realms of pop culture. The best examples of this in pop culture, like Joss Whedon’s Firefly/Serenity series or his most excellent Buffy The Vampire Slayer are the perfect blend of the everyday, which all of us have in abundance and myth, the sense of purpose larger than your own life, something that Matters and that you know deep down with utter conviction that if you do not do them history will turn that way instead of this way and people, for it’s always people, worse off and the world will be harder, crueler, and life will be exceedingly less pleasant for those with the least power.

The thing is, most of us don’t have myth in our everyday lives. The reality for most of us is that we really don’t matter in that big picture echoing through history sort of way. If we blinked out of existence tomorrow history wouldn’t even notice. Indeed, the mechanics of life down here in the everyday would barely notice as another fungible body took over our jobs and our place in the consumption-excretion-reproduction chain of life.

But here’s the real rub: we do have myth just not on the scale we’ve been sold.

Most of us will do something important, something that qualifies for mythological status in some way even if it is only in one person’s history. The sad thing is that most of us will never see it. We will act casually, concentrating on our own aches and pains, our own grasping for happiness, and will be unaware of the ramifications of our actions. Later, we will lament our lack of import not knowing that we’ve already made our mark.

I think most of us know this in some way, even subconsciously, otherwise why would we place so much cultural emphasis on leaving “the world” better for future generations (quick hint: The children aren’t our future; the children are *their* future. You are your own fucking future.)?

Maybe it really all does come down to bread and circuses to distract us from the fact that the toilets need cleaning yet again or the fact that you have to get up and go to work every morning. Or maybe it’s about making our own myths by opting out of what society deems to be important. I don’t know. I wish I had the answer, though.