Odin & BrushJudge
Odin, I’ve been thinking about how the myths we still tell shape our modern ideas about truth—do the stories of old merely echo the facts, or do they serve a deeper purpose in how we know the world?
The old tales aren’t records of the world, they’re maps of how we see it. They give us symbols, patterns, a way to speak about truth that can’t be captured by plain facts. So the myths echo reality, but they also shape the lens through which we judge it.
Well put – myths are the cartographers of our collective mind, not the atlases of actual geography. They’re useful, but if you treat them as exact coordinates, you’ll always be lost.
True enough. A myth can show you a direction, but you still have to follow the path yourself. Otherwise you’ll wander aimlessly through the stories and miss the real world.
Exactly, and if you let a myth be your compass without a map, you’ll end up lost in a labyrinth of metaphor. Take the direction, then tread the real path.
Indeed, a myth can point the way, but without the true terrain we keep chasing shadows. Keep the stories as guides, not as destinations.
So, the myths keep us from tripping over the very terrain they promise to map. A good story is a lantern, not a map that guarantees you’ll reach the castle.
A lantern shows where the fire lies, but you still have to step into the light. The story helps you find the path, it doesn’t walk it for you.
Right, a good tale is a torch on a cliff: it tells you where the heat is, but you still have to climb the cliff yourself.
Exactly, and the torch will also warn you when the cliff’s slick—without that flash of danger you might fall into a ditch you didn’t see. So keep the story lit, but stay alert for the real rocks beneath.
Good point – the torch is useful, but if you only stare at its glow you’ll miss the hidden fissures. Keep the myth bright, but never forget to test the rock beneath.