Saturday, November 19, 2016

My Hero's Journey: Chapter 10

  As part of this course, I have the opportunity to read, “A Field Guide for the Hero’s Journey”.  Each chapter is divided up according to a different step of the hero’s journey, and within each chapter is a selection of stories, parables, poems, and speeches that relate to that particular step.  Although it wasn’t the assigned reading for this week, there is a passage from chapter 2 (Who am I, and Who do I want to become?) that I’d like to discuss, as it left an impression on me. 
  
  An Aesop fable, the Mouse and the Lion is a short story about a mouse who is caught by a lion.  The mouse begs to be let go, promising that he will never forget it.  The great lion, “tickled at the idea of a mouse being able to help him”, freed the mouse.  Some time later, the lion was captured by a group of hunters.  The mouse happened across the path and, noticing the situation, proceeded to gnaw away at the rope that restrained the mighty beast.  The mouse said, “Was I not right?  Little friends may prove a great help.”  

  The moral of the story is: “If you are convinced that you are a mouse surrounded by stronger and more impressive people, ask yourself, ‘What can I do that these mighty lions can’t do?”  

  I think this is a theme we all face in our lives.  From time to time, especially when faced with higher standards of achievement or excellence in the world, I will wonder what I can possibly accomplish when others are so much more qualified than myself.  At school this past spring, this is exactly how I felt in the engineering program.  Sitting in a room, surrounded by programmers, I felt like the proverbial mouse amongst lions.  Of course, there were beginners like myself, but my own lack of experience in the field was a constant, painful reminder.  I was there to learn, true, but the feeling of inadequacy was unavoidable.  

  As time passed, however, I discovered that it was a common theme among my fellow programmers that they disliked writing.  This is a talent of mine that I have a particular fondness for, so to hear their dislike for the exercise made me realize the value of our individual gifts.  Although I was a mouse in the world of programming lions, they were also mice in my world of writer lions.  Putting that into perspective helped me get through some of my acute moments of amateur programming performance.

  I also had to learn that getting through my programming course was not a matter of accomplishment or failure.  It was about discovering myself, my perceived limits, and pushing myself beyond those limits.  I’m proud to have been a mouse in those moments.  I became a braver one because of it.    

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