Is My Personal Myth Really My Personal Myth?

I have been thinking and writing about the personal myth lately. One asks oneself: What is my myth, what archetype drives my inner life? The question, without further context, may seem like something plucked out of thin air, but if one studies the matter sincerely, both generally and personally, something fascinating emerges.

But isn’t there a risk of deceiving oneself? If I perceive myself as something of a trickster and consequently identify with its characteristics, doesn’t that mean that the trickster is “my personal myth”? I don’t think it has to be that way, because the myth and its underlying archetype are often unconscious—we simply don’t recognize them. What drives us may rather be our complexes, the historical script we have picked up and made our own.

I will tell a story on this theme. During a period of my life, I was part of a company’s sales department. The sales manager, let’s call him John, was strikingly humorous, sympathetic, and intelligent. I really liked him, and we had a lot of fun together as colleagues. One difference between us, however, was that he strove to be successful; that is, to build a career, "climb the ladder," and appear accomplished in his own and others’ eyes. There was nothing wrong with that. I thought he was brilliant, and to me, there was no doubt that he would achieve his high (though unspoken) ambitions.

But my view of John`as a manger changed over the two years we were colleagues. I came to feel that he wasn’t so brilliant after all. He was very good at introducing new staff to the role, but after that, he seemed to have nothing more to contribute—and didn’t appear to make any efforts either. I also noticed that the experienced employees in the department didn’t hold his abilities in particularly high regard, even though everyone liked him as a person.

Then we went our separate ways and never met again, as life sometimes turns out. But I kept an eye on him through social media. I sometimes get curious about people and interested in how things turn out for them. I wished John all the best.

As the years went by, I became a little concerned because he never “moved up.” He went from one job to another, often but not always as a group manager or similar role. The companies he worked for grew less and less "sexy" over time, in a way that somewhat clashed with his persona and ambitions, as I knew them. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with that, but for someone like John—who was deeply interested in sales and career—it must have been a bitter development, or rather, a lack of development. But he persevered in his established professional role, moving from one employer to another.

I found it strange. He was good-looking, very socially competent, relaxed, intelligent, and outgoing. Why wasn’t he getting anywhere in relation to his own goals? I wondered.

Then I recalled a story he had told me with apparent amusement. When he was thirteen or fourteen years old, he accompanied his grandfather to the marketplace. His grandfather had a stall where he sold berries he had picked in the forest, vegetables he had grown, and/or fruit from the trees on his farm. On this particular day, when little John got to join, they were selling berries.

After standing there for a while without much success, his grandfather asked John to watch over the stall while he ran an errand. He had not been standing there alone for long when something remarkable happened: A man came up to the stall and bought everything! His grandfather couldn’t believe his eyes when he returned.

This was a great moment in John’s life. One can imagine his grandfather’s joy and pride in his grandson, picture him making a big deal of John’s phenomenal success when they got home, with his parents and other relatives laughing, applauding, patting him on the shoulder, proclaiming that John was a born salesman, such an outstanding talent!

For a boy at that age, such affirmation from father figures can be of immeasurable significance—an initiation and an elevation; like a young Lakota on the prairie who has taken his first coup and is celebrated, given a new name, and from that moment no longer considered a boy, but a man among men, a warrior with a bright future.

I imagine that from that moment on, John not only saw himself as a future successful salesman but also that he had been appointed as such by the father figures. (That would hardly have been the adults’ intention; they had probably only been amused and playful.) John had received his calling, and as an adult, he was determined to live up to all expectations.

But he didn’t. The years passed, but the great success never came. He did not make a remarkable career, despite his considerable personal abilities, diligence, and dedication. It is not too bold to imagine that John, as he nears retirement age, wonders what it was all about. What kind of trick had life played on him?

This text is hypothetical and speculative, and I use the example to illustrate a point, not to describe the actual person. But regarding the personal myth, one can assume that John’s remained unconscious and was replaced, due to his sales success and the ensuing, presumed praise, by another myth. That is, the unexpected “initiation” constellated a hero archetype whose outlet in John’s case became sales. To be a salesman is, in some sense, to conquer and acquire, like a warrior who fearlessly embarks on an adventure and returns with treasures.

Now, I wouldn’t claim this as a general rule, but John’s struggles to achieve the ever-sought success may be a result of kicking against the pricks, of following the wrong archetype, as it were. He has internalized the older relatives’ story about him and strives to fulfill the script they wrote for him. But that was not his story, his own personal myth.

When John was around forty years old, he was on sick leave for a long period. Then he came back and continued as if nothing had happened, as a hero should.

I think this story illustrates how, as young people, we tend to pick up others’ stories about us and, based on them, create a myth about ourselves that we identify with and strive to manifest in life. In most cases it is much more subtle than the one we are discussing here, of course, but John's story—as I imagine it—is a good example precisely because it is so explicit.

Following a hero ideal, even though it isn’t resonating with our inner core, doesn’t even have to be a bad thing. If we consider this hypothetical story about John, the hero archetype probably served him well in his younger years. But sooner or later, the true, innate myth catches up with us and makes itself known in one way or another. Unfortunately, we are very bad at listening to the whispers and cries from within. Moreover, it is very difficult to abandon the myth we have built around our person in order to become receptive to another story.