Every single one of us
has to be a hero at some time in our lives.

Every baby
forced through the narrow passage of the birth canal,
which is not unlike
the labyrinthine tunnels at Lascaux,
has to leave the safety of the womb,
and face the trauma of entry
into a terrifyingly unfamiliar world.

Every mother
who gives birth, who risks death
for her child,
is also heroic.

You cannot be a hero
unless you are prepared to give up everything;
there is no ascent to the heights
without a prior ascent into darkness,
no new life without some form of death.

Throughout our lives,
we all find ourselves in situations in which
we are face to face with the unknown,
and the myth of the hero
shows us how we should behave.

We all have to face the final rite of passage,
which is death.

-excerpt A Short History Of Myth by Karen Armstrong p. 37

This passage from Armstrong’s book moved me.  Ordinary life is typically framed by what needs to be done next, as when it is your turn at the automatic car wash, or when you have vague thoughts about what a child might find interesting as a birthday gift.  Our day to day lives are composed of trivial demands, and I feel grateful this stage of life for me is typically composed of wrestling with words in the morning at Starbucks.  Another standing responsibility is deciding what to do within reason and financial constraints to maintain the yard.  I mulch Fall leaves multiple times.  I mow the grass as often as needed in the spring and summer season. 

No longer, do we have a duty to join the hunt, to select a bison, cut from the herd and kill, or even to stalk a deer — so that I and others have enough protein to survive the winter.

Mowing, mulching, making sure the Starbucks order is right is what is meant by civilization.

And yet, and yet there have been times when I have faced the unknown.