I was reading spiritual activist Michelle MacEwan’s thoughts on myths and story-telling this morning:
Every mythology has to do with the wisdom and magic of life related to a specific culture and a specific place. These mythologies are timeless narratives handed down from generation to generation.
And I was reminded of something my protagonist, Richard, writes in The Lebanese Troubles:
I’ve always thought the best part of an adventure comes with the telling. That’s when myths and legends are born – out of the ordinary actions of ordinary people. In a way, it’s the story that really is the adventure, not the events at all. It’s the story-teller who collects the incidents, shapes them, colours them, decides which to keep and which to discard. He can make a hero out of a bystander, a villain out of a man acting under orders. He can make the trivial significant, the accidental planned, cowardice an act of bravery. The wonderful thing is, it’s all true – just because he tells us so, and the story is his invention.
A fictional character reflecting on myth-making. I guess that makes it untrue.
But a myth doesn’t need to be true; it needs to be Truth.
Somehow that seems appropriate on Easter Sunday.