We have come to the threshold crossing from Summer to Autumn. Wednesday, September 22 was the Autumn Equinox, a solar event that sees the light of day and the dark of night in equal balance. In pre-modern cultures, this cosmic crossing was celebrated with thanksgiving through harvest feasts, bon fires, and preparations for the darkening months to come. It was a time to gather together with community to participate in the rhythms of the calendar of earth. There was a deep sense that their celebrating mattered; that their noticing and knowing of the seasonal shift companioned the turning of the year. To not participate in some way with the calendar of the earth could mean witnessing the whole thing coming undone! By bringing in the harvest, they maintained an equilibrium resonant with the season. What has been been growing out there is brought inwards; the inner and outer worlds are held in balance and honored before giving fully into the fallow inward times of the deepening dark. And so the rituals mattered, the gathering was significant, the harvest had consequence. They understood that they were characters in the grand play of life; that they too were interfacing with ancient archetypes of dark and light, and how they journeyed through the story had import and magnitude.

And so myths and stories have swirled around this threshold time of gratitude and growing darkness. Pre-Christian stories mixed and melded with stories of saints and festival days. It is no wonder that around this calendar time of full harvest moons and Autumn Equinoxes that we celebrate Michaelmas, the Christian feast day of the archangel Michael celebrated on September 29th. Within the wisdom of this festival are themes of harvest and community, threat and injustice, and courageous bravery. It was common practice for the Christian church to “baptize” pre-Christian nature-based celebrations into the liturgical calendar with Christo-centric themes. Michaelmas is no different. This seasonal celebration sits squarely within the turning of seasons from Summer to Autumn, and resonates with the themes of light touring towards darkness, fear of the elements, and strength in community. What I truly appreciate about this particular feast day is not its place within Christendom, but rather the invitation into a mythopoetic imagination that invites some really good inner work that is seasonally based.

As long sun-filled days turned to slanting shadows, the legends of St Michael--principal of angelic warriors, protector against night's darkness, and the Archangel who fought against Satan and his evil angels--were told around the bounty of harvest as a way of distilling the fear associated with the coming cold winter months. It was believed that negative forces were stronger in darkness and so families would require stronger defence during the later months of the year. The epic heavenly battle against Lucifer and his dominions would be retold with light-filled swords slaying ghastly dragons, similar motifs as found in the tales of St. George and the Dragon. This story and celebration would encourage the "looking-to" for protection (the looking-to a good harvest, strong community, and faith in a Sacred Presence), the "looking-for" collective and individual strengths and the "looking-back" with thanksgiving and praise.

In Michael we engage the essence of the Hero archetype, one who’s cunning and keen ways would vanquish the dragon, keeping the community safe from harm. And in this story, like so many other tales that require a confrontation with the fearsome thing that resides in the dark, we witness the requisite energies of engaging our shadow-side, truly a perfect mythological picture of the balance of dark and light energies as we cross into Autumn and pay attention to the wheel of the year.

Let’s revisit a basic understanding of what has traditionally been referred to as the Heroic Journey, the archetypal framework for most epic tales. Joseph Campbell's concept of the monomyth (one myth) refers to the theory that sees all mythic narratives as variations of a single great story. The theory is based on the observation that a common pattern exists beneath the narrative elements of most great myths, regardless of their origin or time of creation. However, Campbell’s Hero’s Journey, in some respects, fails to reflect the journeys taken by women or those who live closely to the patterns of the earth. Whereas the monomyth’s hero may be all about the EGO, we are left wondering in our current age, how does this impact the ECO? How does the story speak to the realities of the chaos of Covid and Climate Change? Campbell’s framework for the Hero’s Journey is inevitably associated with the values, conventions and perspectives of the sources from which it draws – and also, the values, conventions and perspectives which predominated at the time and in the place he was writing. And so the concept of ‘hero’ and, following from this, of heroic action, fitted perfectly with the dominant (American) Western culture of the day. There is a bit of dust on this way of reading to say the least!

Mythologist and psychologist Sharon Blackie has argued that this traditional concept of the hero, and the heroic trajectory of Western civilization, is at the root of much that is wrong with the world. It reflects values that are patriarchal, conquering, oppressive and martial. Archetypal psychologist James Hillman attacked the concept of the Hero throughout his work, stating that it is egocentric, narcissistic, and self-referential. "Because the movement of classic heroism is forward and upward," he argued, "the most difficult of all tasks for heroic consciousness is looking inward."

How do we make this pivot? How do we turn the heroic gaze inward, and what happens when we do? We are in desperate need to read and tell our stories through a post-heroic lens, one that deconstructs Campbell’s Descent claiming that it isn’t the dragon we are after, but rather our own wholeness. Blackie, would say that Post-heroic stories aren’t focused on individual glory; they’re focused on community. On diversity. “It’s not about slaying the dragon,” says Blackie, “but about harnessing his special skills – making him part of the team. It’s about understanding, and valuing, the black, feathery, croaking wisdom of a crow. It’s about living with a half-empty stomach so you can feed some of your porridge to the hungry mice – who, if you are lucky, will help you to sort the wheat from the chaff. Post-heroic stories aren’t about winning the hand of the simpering, golden-haired princess: they’re about kissing the boar-toothed, blue-faced hag.”

“What is inspired within ourselves and our communities when Michael chooses to not slay the dragon, but rather lays down his sword and offers the dragon soup?”

— Mary DeJong

A post heroic journey, or what we could even call an eco-journey is one that sees our bliss and the bliss of the world braided together. Our gaze must be inward, looking to the inner-soul world in which the story is unfolding, as a way to develop and form our soul life, our inner life. When we go through the archetypal stages of the heroic round with an inward gaze, it isn’t to further flame our dragon-like egos, but to align our rapture with the rapture of the world. And we recognize that this kind of unity cannot occur unless the dragon is met, greeted, and embraced; courted back into the halls that had at one time exiled it.

We are at a time when the old tellings of stories no longer serve. And the great thing about myths is that they are dynamic and responsive to the contexts of our times and speak on behalf of the Earth. So, we get to participate in evolving these stories, telling them in ways that honor the season we are in, and pushing the mythic envelope to call forth the kind of heroes we so desperately need today. What is inspired within ourselves and our communities when Michael chooses to not slay the dragon, but rather lays down his sword and offers the dragon soup? When we conquer our fear with kindness, we engage in a powerful form of integration within our self, and transformation within our community. The post-heroic journey calls forth the prophet, and we see how this much-needed turn of this story echoes with the Hebrew prophets’ imagination for transforming beaten swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks (Isaiah 2:4).

This is the time of the year to greet the balance of dark and light within your community, and to participate in the shift of the seasons within yourself. But to perpetuate a fear of the dark and the unknown preserves a violent form of heroism that represents a story from the past. There is a new story forming from the Earth, one that requests that we court the exiled dragon, that we woo instead of subdue it. And when we live into this kind of story, a new kind of hero will emerge! A hero who brandishes the tools for the harvest and one that plants deep roots.

Waymarkers Journal

Michaelmas: Lay Down the Sword