The Personal Myth IV: The mythological landscape

Archetypes are not isolated from one another. One can imagine the pattern of archetypes as a net. If one grasps a knot between thumb and forefinger and lifts it from the surface the net rests upon, several meshes with knots will follow. If we identify Loki as our driving archetype, for instance, Odin, Thor, and Freyja will come along as well.

We seek to study our archetype not only to become familiar with it and understand its story but also to acquaint ourselves with its mythological landscape—what energies are drawn to this focal point? Seldom are we so one-dimensional that our personality and life story are influenced by only a single archetypal current.

It also seems that the neighboring archetypes in our inner landscape often affect us more in our lives than the primary archetype, due to factors such as cultural expectations. A Loki-type character is something of a trickster with a questionable moral compass. One can imagine that such traits might not be appreciated by those around them, leading to Loki-like impulses being punished while reliability and righteousness are rewarded. For such a person, the steadfast Thor may be an obvious figure to develop and identify with instead. Thor and Loki are opposites, but according to the myths, they often traveled together and complemented each other. Loki’s impulses could create problems that Thor needed to set right.

A person who has repressed his or her archetype while the personality has been shaped and reshaped in response to the surroundings may very well develop a Thor- or Odin-like personality instead. This may feel comfortable and genuine precisely because these figures are closely linked to Loki. A person may also shift between these archetypes—being somewhat of a Loki in private social circles while embodying Thor’s steadiness in his or her professional life.

Once one has identified one's archetype and become familiar with its surroundings—the environment it belongs to—one can ask, as in the given examples, “Where in my life is Freyja? Who or what manifests Odin?” and so on. If the god in question has a home, as many gods and goddesses did in Norse mythology, this may symbolize something one has, lacks, or seeks to find in one's external life. One god may dwell in a house with his spouse, another by the sea, a third welcomes fallen warriors to her home, and a fourth resides in the underworld. This can lead to the question: Where do I truly belong? This naturally ties into asking oneself, Where do I feel most at home? Or is it a wandering god, even an outcast, with no real home? Where does Loki belong?

When we study mythologies, we see that gods and goddesses have specific relationships with certain other deities, but often also with other beings, such as dwarves, humans, and animals. These relationships are frequently central to their myths. If we continue with Loki, we see that he tends to steal from the goddesses, often leading to unfortunate outcomes. Sometimes Heimdall pursues him—the two seem to have a longstanding rivalry. With symbolic thinking, one can contemplate how these patterns might be reflected in one’s own life, perhaps in ways one has not previously been aware of.

Conversely, if Thor represents the underlying archetype in our personal myth, we may be characterized by reliability, protection, and strength. A challenge for such a person is likely the unconscious trickster impulse—the very thing Loki represents in Thor’s company. As long as this impulse is repressed because it is incompatible with our identity, it will trip us up; at times, we may feel unlucky, while at other times, we may not understand how we manage to be so fortunate. Identifying Thor as the underlying archetype and, through working with our personal myth, also acknowledging and inviting Loki into our lives can make a significant difference in how this dynamic manifests.

The problem is that what we are unconscious of tends to interfere with our intentions; in its striving to become part of our lives, it is experienced as an inner adversary. Becoming aware of our internal dynamics makes all the difference in the world. Not only do we understand our own myth and learn to collaborate with our inner daimon, but through familiarity with its mythological landscape, we expand our consciousness and allow for flexibility in relation to these inner dynamics. The personal myth we do not know risks leading to psychological blockages, compulsive behaviors, and a lack of belonging—we may, so to speak, fall into the hands of something else, most notably the expectations of others, and end up living a false life.

In this way, working with one’s personal myth can “unlock” us, making us more adaptable and creative in relation to both our inner and, by extension, our outer mythology.