The Curious Soul (Week 2)

Beowulf, Facing the Shadows, and Cheetos

"From within them I light the lamp of wisdom and dispel all darkness from their lives." The Bhagavad Gita, 10:8

I want to start this week's discussion by asking questions. It is a personal inventory-type questionnaire, so please consider having a support plan to follow, like going for a walk, calling a friend, or petting a dog and doing something kind for yourself. Be aware of your feelings as you read, and lean into your gut responses. Sound good? Ok. Let’s go.¹

What do you think you are good at doing? What are your gifts and talents? What is a secret you have? What do you do when you are protective and put up walls? How do you avoid things, problems, or responsibilities? How do you like to procrastinate?

What did you love most when you were a child? Were there any activities that felt like a natural extension of yourself to which you had a natural inclination? Were you naturally talented at something? What brought you joy and led to praise from a parent, teacher, or friends? Do you still do this activity? If not, at what age did it drop off? If you examine the surrounding circumstances of when you stopped this activity, do you see any connection?

Who was your best friend when you were a kid? What kind of "play" did you do with this friend or friends? Was there an age when you and this friend stopped playing together, and why? Amongst you and these friends, who seemed to reach the "next stage" first, and what was the change in activity that made this shift obvious? Was this a difficult transition? Were there toys you stopped playing with and things you stopped doing so you could "catch up"? Or were you the one that developed and changed first?

Do you still keep in touch with these friends? If not, how old were you when you stopped talking and spending time together?

Who took care of you when you were sick? Who tucked you in bed at night? Did your caretaker spend time with you, ask how your day was, read your books before bed, have tea parties, or wrestle with you? Did they hug you and tell you that they loved you? Was there a point when they stopped hugging you? Were they around at all?

On whom did you rely the most?

Did you grow up in a religious home? Were there expectations of you attached to this, such as attending church, reading scripture, having family prayer time, behaving a certain way, or even dressing a certain way?

Were you given any specific messages about your appearance that felt connected to your worth?

What topics did not get discussed in your childhood home? What was taboo? Did your family have an open conversation on sex and meaningful relationships, or were the topics avoided? How did you manage your feelings of attraction, desire, and curiosity?

How do you manage your feelings now? How do you seek connection? What makes you feel that you matter and are making a difference?

What dreams felt crushed? Did anything feel just out of reach, or were you told that something was not for you but meant for more talented people?

Think of these questions and your answers as the beginning of an inventory. Also, understand that I am not a psychologist or therapist. I am just a dude with a computer who loves to read and write and has faced several shadows cast by my past. No matter what kind of household we grew up in, whether our parents or guardians were loving and encouraging, we all walk away with some form and level of wound. We can blame our parents, and our parent’s parents, but as Whyte says, “ultimately you are the one in whom they have made a home. You are the one who must say Thus far and no farther, and then go down and confront them yourself.”²

Go For A Walk

In chapter two of The Heart Aroused, Whyte draws attention to the wound analogy seen in the mythopoetic narrative of Beowulf. Did you read chapter two? How about a brief synopsis?³

Beowulf is a Scandinavian mercenary. One day, he learns of the troubles that the King of Denmark, Hrothgar, is having with a swamp monster called Grendel. Hrothgar has built an excellent mead hall called the Heorot, where his warriors can gather to drink and party the night away. The noise of the party disturbs the demon creature, Grendel, in his swamp, angering him, and he has been terrorizing and killing the warriors and eluding their efforts to fight back and destroy him for years. Beowulf, always on the lookout to prove his superior strength, sails to the Danish kingdom, offering his mercenary services to Hrothgar. He enlightens the king and his men with his stories of victory, and they put their faith in him, anticipating undisrupted parties in the future. That night, as he always has, Grendel storms the Heorot, angered by the raucous, crashing the party. This time, they have Beowulf, who successfully overcomes Grendel and tears his arm off, sending Grendel slinking back to his dark swamp pool to die.

Hooray! Right? Well, hang tight.

It turns out that Grendel has a mom, and if there is one thing that we know, it is that you do not want to make a momma angry. Seeking revenge, Grendel's mom emerges from the swamp. She attacks, and kills king Hrothgar's best friend, Aeschere, then retreats to her underwater lair. Beowulf and company travel to the swamp to avenge Aeschere's murder. The king equips Beowulf with a fine sword and helmet, and Beowulf clads himself in hand-woven ring mail. He dives into the deep lake, feeling confidence in the weapon and protection bestowed upon him.

Our hero encounters Grendel's mother and soon finds these weapons are useless against her. He resorts to wrestling her bare-handed until, tumbling into her den, Beowulf sees a mysterious and magnificent sword chained up. He breaks the chains and slays Grendel's mother with the glowing sword. After his victory, Beowulf spots Grendel's dead body and decapitates him with the sword, then begins his swim back to the surface with Grendel's head and the luminous sword in hand. However, the story tells us that as he swims, the sword melts away in Grendel's blood, leaving only the hilt in Beowulf's hand. The king and company, who took Beowulf for dead, rejoice at the return of our hero, his legend ensured.

The Deeper Struggles

We all possess a wound. It can be hard to recognize. It might be repressed in a pool of busyness, preoccupation, or addiction. It might cause us shame, and make us feel lesser than others.

We view our wounds as our downfall, the reason why we don't deserve a good life. It might trigger in us a pattern of self-destruction. We feel unworthy of realizing our dreams, passions, and full potential. Our shadows can feel like bottomless lakes, where we think we will lose ourselves. However, Whyte says, “Our deeper struggles are in effect our greatest spiritual and creative assets and doors to whatever creativity we might possess.”⁴ We knowingly or unknowingly surrendered to the wound, allowing it to rob us of our joy, believing we could not do anything about it, much like Grendel had illuded defeat by king Hrothgar and Company. They believed that no matter what they did, the swampish Grendel would come to torment them. It was not until Beowulf dove into the depths to get to the heart of the matter (Grendel's mom), that they experienced freedom up above.

In The Heart Aroused, Whyte writes, "The story of Beowulf makes it clear to us that although ordinary [...] courage and wisdom are indispensable, they are not enough to take us beneath the surface. We must possess something else. The story is very precise at this point. Of all the great Danish warriors and of all the flower of Saxon manhood who have accompanied Beowulf to Denmark, none of them can even contemplate descending into the depths of that water to wrestle with Grendel's mother. Only Beowulf has the quality that allows him to go down and confront her. [...] What does it take to go down there?"⁵

What is remarkable is that Beowulf is "prepared" to confront her. He had the helmet, the sword, the mail armor woven by trolls, and the courage. However, in the heat of the battle, those weapons, save the courage, fail him. What he finds, though, is the luminous sword, which is what brings victory, but he cannot keep the sword as it melts away.

What does this tell us? As Whyte describes it, often the same weapon required to defeat the wound or the salve that brings healing resides in the shadowy depths beside the wound. We may have all of the best literature, intentions, education, and experience in the world, but those things may fall short of giving us a fighting chance in the shadows.

Again, what does it take to go down there?

“Our deeper struggles are in effect our greatest spiritual and creative assets and doors to whatever creativity we might possess.” David Whyte, The Heart Aroused

The Road (Trail) To Damascus

Somewhere in the Smokie Mountains right before getting the Norovirus.

The merit of a man is not in the knowledge he possesses, but in the effort he made to achieve it. -Gotthold Ephraim Lessing⁶

In 2012, I hiked the southernmost 500 miles of the Appalachian Trail, from Springer Mountain, Georgia, to Damascus, Virginia. For such a big undertaking, I had minimal experience. I had gone a few times with my dad when I was a kid, but they were just single overnighters. Embarking on a 500-mile trek that could take up to 30+ days is challenging logistically and physically. On top of my lack of experience, I used ultra-light equipment. My goal was a 10-pound base weight. A typical base weight of a "creature comfort hiker" might be closer to 20 pounds or up to 30. To save weight, I used a 50-degree down quilt (not a sleeping bag) and a torso-length foam sleeping pad, and I did not have any cooking tools. I ate all of my food cold. So while other campers were boiling noodles, or Mountain House freeze-dried dinners, I was jamming on a flour tortilla filled with Cheetos and tuna. Yep. Ultra-light quickly felt stupid. I was cold every night and wanted better food. I earned the name "Mix-a-lot," not because of my affinity for large butts but because I would snack on a Ziploc bag filled with peanuts, raisins, M&Ms, and Cheetos. Why Cheetos? Well, their calorie-to-weight ratio makes it the perfect trail food.⁷ You get a lot of bang for your buck. So they went into virtually every meal.

A typical day's menu looked something like this:

• Breakfast - Snickers bars with peanut butter smeared on top, and Starbucks Via instant coffee⁸

• Snacks - My trail mix featuring Cheetos

• Lunch - Flour tortillas filled with Cheetos

• Dinner - Flour tortillas filled with Cheetos and Tuna, or Chicken

Sound appetizing?

Before hitting the trail, I thought I had it all figured out. I had ultra-light gear, which made me superior to every other hiker. I listened to several podcasts, which gave me the ins and outs of the backpacking gear cottage industry, and I mapped out how I would hike 25 to 30 miles daily. Having never gone on a long trek, I felt like I had all of the right tools and knowledge, but it was not until I got to the top of the mountain on my first night, with the rain beating down on my tarp, every part of me feeling wet and cold, that I realized I had it all wrong. Unfortunately, the correct gear does not appear magically on the trail as the luminous sword did for Beowulf.

On my fourth day out, feeling defeated, cold, wet, and hungry, a storm came through. It was evening time, and I had skipped one of the shelters where there was still plenty of room because I wanted to make another five miles before it got too late. About two miles past that shelter, the heavy rain started to fall. The well-worn trail began to resemble a rushing creek. Soaked to the bone (to stay ultra-light, I did not pack a rain jacket), I stopped in the middle of the trail and stared out into the woods. I yelled at the top of my lungs, "Jesus f****** Christ! Why the f***!? F*** you!" Who was on the receiving end of this outburst? I do not know. Everyone and no one, I suppose. The most accurate answer is that I was likely yelling and cursing myself. I had no self-compassion. I felt like a fool.

I continued through the rain, only to arrive at the next shelter fully occupied. Without space to park it inside, I had to set up my tarp behind the shelter while the rain continued. It was dark now, and I did not know what I was doing. I set up quickly and crawled inside, wet, cold, and tired but unable to sleep. That night I decided I needed to reset and recalibrate. I woke the following day, the sun out, and feeling hopeful of my plan to go back home to get better gear and to come back and finish from where I left off. I hiked 20 miles that day. Unfortunately, I failed to tend to my damp feet because my shoes were soaked from the day before, and I gave myself some of the worst blisters of my life. I had blisters in between my big toes. I have never felt such pain. I made it to the highway, where a man in an 80's conversion van picked me up and drove me to a hotel. It turns out this guy was a former pro wrestler. I know nothing about pro wrestling, but I acted impressed. After all, this guy was my ticket to a warm bed and shower.

At the hotel, I went to Dollar General and bought six Klondike bars and a two-liter of Pepsi, and when I returned to the hotel, I ordered two stuffed crust pizzas from Pizza Hut. My pizzas arrived, and I ate both of them, all six Klondike bars and most of the soda. Cheetos could not hold a candle to that feast. Ultimately, I made the trip back home, retooled, and returned to that hotel two weeks later. I hiked for three more weeks before making it to Damascus. By the end, trail life had become second nature, from setting up camp (even in the rain), hanging my food up so bears could not get to it, and tending to my tender feet so I could keep blisters at bay.

*Quick aside: nothing can prepare you for a black bear walking up on you while pooping in the woods. Ask me how I know.

Greater Beings

Winning does not tempt that man,
This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively
by constantly greater beings. -Rilke

I will never forget what I learned out there. To learn it, though, I had to get into Georgia's deep, lonely, wet woods. Aside from backpacking and hitchhiking skills⁹, I learned more about loneliness and regret, and what it means to carry on in the midst of self-doubt and second-guessing myself. There were also indications of deeper wounds and darker shadows at the time, but I was not ready to follow Grendel's mother to her lair quite yet.

Whyte says, “Don’t […] get carried away with your display of inner mastery and try to wield that same inner sword in the world above. Your delusions of grandiosity will melt away as soon as you try to use it again.”¹⁰

In recovery, we say “One day at a time.” Another axiom is, “One good decision at a time.” What’s the connection here? You must give up trying to change your past, and surrender your desire to control your future. When you obsess over either, you are arming yourself with the wrong type of weapon. Don’t look back or ahead, but within, and trust that that is where you will find what is required to face the shadows.

I will leave this one here for now but follow up this week to tie in how this speaks to our creativity and share a bit about my time as a recovering addict. To wrap it up, I would like to ask you a few more questions:

• What was a time when you thought you were ready for what was ahead, but it was not until you were in the heart of it that you discovered what you needed to succeed?

• Have you done "shadow work," where you have faced the dark parts of yourself and your wounds and taken a long and hard look into its depths?

• What do you think it means to master something? What does the path to mastery look like for you? What is something you would like to master, and how do you think you would go about that?

Comment below and tell me your story. Also, please join the chat via the Substack app, and share the discussion there.

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1. My personal favorite form of support is to watch YouTube videos of people riding trains across the country, or videos of people taking overnight ferries in Japan. Try it. It’s relaxing.

2. THA, pg. 39

3. My synopsis is based on David Whyte’s retelling, the internet, and the little I can remember from English class. I only remember it from English class because that is when I learned about Sigur Ros, who is a band that sings in a “constructed language called Hopelandic.” My teacher made the connection between the original language of Beowulf and Hopelandic, and that is about all I can remember.

4. THA, pg. 64

5. THA, pg. 47

6. Tolstoy’s Calendar of Wisdom

7. An 8.5-ounce bag of Cheetos (which is the typical size you’d buy) has 1440 calories in it. That’s 170 calories per ounce. 8.5 ounces of typical beef jerky is only 680 calories, or 80 calories per ounce. This does not take into account proper nutrition, so please don’t come at me.

8. I hiked with a guy whose trail name was Rainbow. He was a nice guy, but was the antithesis of my backpacking approach. He wore jeans, had a big Coleman backpack, and carried a large saucepan, a bag of rice, and a squeeze tube of garlic paste. He also mooched a lot of my snickers bars. How could I say no to Rainbow?

9. Only twice, and they were lovely people.

10. THA, pg. 61