The Call

Modern romance, like Greek tragedy, celebrates the mystery of dismemberment, which is life in time. The happy ending is justly scorned as a misrepresentation; for the world, as we know it, as we have seen it, yields but one ending: death, disintegration, dismemberment, and the crucifixion of our heart with the passing of the forms that we have loved.-Joseph Campbell

Well that’s a bit dark, true..but dark which means I love it. And distracting while I was really going for this quote:

Refusal of the Call. Often when the call is given, the future hero first refuses to heed it. This may be from a sense of duty or obligation, fear, insecurity, a sense of inadequacy, or any of a range of reasons that work to hold the person in his current circumstances.

As I sat in the library with my head nestled in a book, I felt home. Home is the call for me, I have refused the call for a very long time. Im always easily distracted, by my own insecurities and heart. I remember in college how much I loved reading, lerning, discussion, and hours at the library alone. Yet, I traded that in for coolness, boys, and partying. Which really was a refusal of the call. The call that I didn’t think I was smart enough to do…insecurity tied to childhood.

Discussion with my potential PhD advisor reminded me…of the call again, the ease and flow of contact, triggering words, a yes from my gut. It’s how I felt on Princeton’s campus, home…I was home among books and minds. I was home among people who thought. I fell in love with thinkers very easily…they were home. Always a bit quirky, always interesting.

I’d been hiding from the call for 20 years, amazing how that works. I’d been sidetracked by a few villain Types and my own negative self talk.

But it was still there.

Waiting for me to answer.

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