The Hero’s Path. Life Lived as a Poem.

This is a repost from November 2, 2010

We have not even to risk the adventure alone/ for the heroes of all time have gone before us /The labyrinth is thoroughly known/ We have only to follow the thread of the hero path/ And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god/ And where we had thought to slay another/ we shall slay ourselves/ Where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence/ And where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.
– Joseph Campbell

Many of you have followed my adventure for the last sixteen months, when I moved from my house into Rosy, the RV, on an island just south of Charleston, a place that called to me one night six years ago, on a moonlit beach. My fullness feels so round and complete today that I stutter to speak about the gifts this adventure has given me. It wasn’t love, though I was not deprived of that. It wasn’t riches, for I am richer than I ever imagined, yet I don’t have quite enough money.

What happened was something that Joseph Campbell hints at in the quote, which is a beautiful soliloquy in his wise and deeply spiritual voice, at the beginning of the audio edition of The Power of Myth, the interviews with Bill Moyers. As I paint, I listen over and over to this, for it is too rich to grasp in one listening.

So, after the initial thrill of a new life in this idyllic, forested world near the sea, I found myself alone on the island. Isn’t that, in metaphor, what island means anyway? It was my labyrinth. And there were some dark hours. But in the dark, cold, wet night, grace met me. I held tight. As promised, over months, the words rang true.

I found a new center in myself, one I knew all along, a strength, the most compassionate lover, who was waiting for me there. I had to do this journey alone, and what better place than in the quiet of Edisto Island, a place of raw, rivered beauty, whose every metaphor, whose poetic parallel, is so close to paradise it astounds me.

The 16 mile road out to the island from Highway 17 is labyrinthine. The rivers and marshes remind me of the Lowcountry that King David writes about in the Psalms. One passes the Serpentarium, the serpent being the metaphor for new life, for a snake sheds its skin to begin anew. In most cultures the snake is seen as a holy creature, who also curls into a circle, a symbol of continuity, and eternity. Joseph Campbell argues, and he does so skillfully, that our Christian text is most spiritual when seen as literary metaphor. The snake in the garden of Eden served to symbolize knowledge, being awakened. We are now responsible for our own place and experience in the world.

Metaphor in image and word has been my constant companion since I was a teenager. I knew early that I wanted to be an artist, at all costs. Every step of the way, through art school, to working in advertising as a photographer, to teaching Book Arts, mothering, house remodeling. Loving. It is a poem! To see life as a poem, and you in it, is it!

In September I traveled to France, to the mother of all labyrinths, the great gothic Cathedral at Chartres. It was a dream I’d had since college. A new interest in the physical labyrinth had grabbed me, for the metaphor of being lost but found is simply too wonderful. Three days whirled by quickly. I returned home stunned in a way. Art and imagery often does that to me. Later I know what it is all about.

Walking into Chartres was a baptism. I came home a new person. Everything shifted. It was time to take this golden thread out into the world. To share this amazing experience. I am not at all sure how or why, but I know one thing.

Trust the call. Do it. JUMP.

I was called to be an artist. And as an old old midwife said to me "If the Lord wants you to do something, you won't have no good luck' til you do." So, here I am, sharing what I love, longing to illuminate the work of art, which is everywhere.

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Posted in art, beauty, creativity, Poetry, religion, spirituality, Writing
4 comments on “The Hero’s Path. Life Lived as a Poem.
  1. featherheart says:

    Charlotte, thank you for sharing your wonderful gift. What a wonderful way to start my morning….

  2. Deborah Robinson says:

    My dear Charlotte,
    This was an amazing piece! It spoke to me at a time when I needed this particular advice the most! We don’t always listen to the blessings and callings from the universe, those quiet whispers helping us to find our way down the path of life. I’m so overjoyed that you listened you your callings, felt the fear, and did it anyway. I’m hoping to do the same!

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What’s this?

Welcome to my blog about the Lowcountry of South Carolina, a place proud with beauty, history and art. Sometimes we feel a call, to be, to go, to do. I was called to be an artist, and as an old midwife from Alabama said, “If the good Lord wants you to do something, you won’t have no good luck until you do it.”

So here I am writing about what I know, about the 'under glimmer' as the poet Basho, says, the way I have learned to see, to notice. I am inspired by, and talking about the history and art and culture of this place that has called me to herself. By the ancestors.

My background includes a degree in fine arts from a small private college in Florida, and before that, four years of all girls' boarding school in Asheville. I worked as a professional photographer, helped my children grow up, and now and I love seasoned things, good food, better conversation, beauty, my beloved and beautiful Italian Greyhound, Beau. Moved by the sacred places and stories of this beautiful historic land called the Lowcountry, I am here in spirit and I hope to infect you with my love of this place.

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