Personal Narrative: My Hero's Journey

To play a role given to us, isn’t fun once we learn of it, however, breaking away pushes us further into the journey. The Hero's Journey, a repetitive process that seems to be in the basic natural structure of every human, and despite any efforts are often replicating it ourselves. Following the journey is simple and sometimes unavoidable. The whole journey is mapped out by Christopher Vogler's The Writer's Journey. Then seen in Dracula, Bedazzled, and Noah. Also, in a easier way Howl's Moving Castle and The Game.

Joseph Campbell has a theory called The Hero’s Journey in where an individual is shown in a mundane world, called to an adventure, and goes on the adventure. In the adventure, the individual goes on the path of trials that consisting of making new friends, new mentors, new enemies, facing new challenges, gaining new skills, and new knowledge. When the individual comes back to their mundane world, they are the master of two worlds through their new experiences they've gained in the adventure. The Hero’s Journey has been repeated in literature and films through many years: two examples that have The Hero’s Journey are the films, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief.

Change is inevitable. Whether it be positive or negative, change is constantly happening. More than often change can take you from the known world and spit you into the unknown, where you return a changed person. While embarking on the journeys provoked by change, you are on a hero’s journeys. The hero’s journey was popularized by Joseph Campbell. When describing what prompts hero’s journeys, Joseph Campbell said,

Zachari's grandmother showed the QP the court documents the probation officer left that reports he has 20 hours of community services, have no contact with the co-defendants, curfew set by the parent, and contact with his probation officer.

Joseph Campbell is a leading mythology expert and philosopher who studied all myths from around the world and found the “Hero’s Journey,” a pattern or algorithm that appears in common in myth, religious ritual, and storytelling. The Hero’s Journey has three elements, separation, initiation and return. If I think about myself, coming to Hawaii by myself was a separation from my comfortable zone where I was surrounded by my supportive family. First time when I came here, I could not say anything and became quiet because I thought people would think I was a stupid and not understand me. I was afraid of how people think about my language skills. However, I tried to speak from myself, asked people to collect my mistakes, accepted what I cannot do

What would happen next?!  She began to go down, she put one foot down on the next step.  The ladder began to wobble Chu-yi, holding on tightly stops moving ,and the ladder is still.  Chu-yi knew that could have been bad.  She makes it half way down the ladder while her heart is beating like a drum.  Chu-yi starts to hum the swift birds's song to calm herself. Bang, Chu-yi hears the sound and hurries down the ladder.

I was nine years old when it happened. I loved Shrek so much, I owned all the movies and the merchandise, I even prayed to Shrek every night, I still do. This night was no different "Shrek is love. Shrek is life." I finish my prayer, thanking Shrek for the life I've been given. My dad overhears me "Faggot." he mumbles under his breath. "Cunt." I reply, I say no more because I know he is just jealous of the devotion and relationship I have with the green lord an savior, Shrek. I can see him grow angrier before he slaps me across the face "Go to your room you disgusting faggot!" he yells. I hold back the tears and I go back to my room, once I'm in the safety in my room I let the rears flow. My face stings from where he hit me. I climb into my cold and lonesome bed, and the suddenly, I feel a warmth move towards me, it runs a large finger down my back.

Enclosed between five walls and a packet of chips between us, my senior class are sat sitting on their luggage, mouths quite literally falling to their chins and a stare that could make the Queen shudder in fright. I seemed to only be the vocal student out of the pack. "You have got to be kidding me," I toss my hands over my head for emphasis and point to the dungeon that we had been trapped in. The white washed walls that gave no sign of life suddenly make me what to scream. "This trip was supposed to be fun, explore our creative minds or whatever." A flash of anger flutters over my eyes.

In drama, story telling, myths, a religious ritual, psychological development and even in life there's a hero's journey. The hero's journey is basically multiple steps describing the adventure of “The hero”. A hero to me is someone who has courage, who did something amazing, someone you can look up to. Even though I am not a typical hero there are times when my life follows the hero's journey with archetypes such as the herald, loyal companion , threshold guardian.

The unfortunate event began a completely new and terrifyingly dreadful life experience in which all my previous hard endeavors of securing the structurally sound habit of dedication, commitment, and studying I exercised extensively during my senior year, with the inner weapon of possessing powerful agency to absorb material with an extreme passion and letting my heart beat madly on long-distance runs whenever possible were indeed losing their color at a quickening pace. Suddenly I began to doubt my worth and the world’s lessons soon disappeared from my unawakened consciousness. The delicate networks of improvement and inner faith were becoming swept into a tide wayward, far out to sea where the light of my touch couldn’t embrace it.

I don’t remember my name, or most of my early life, but I know I was a thief. I was part of a group of thieves, five of us. “Do you remember where you’re from?” A village called Greenbridge. I don’t know how far it is from here. “Greenbridge?” Why, does it sound familiar? She hesitated. She didn’t know him, but if she was going to help, she had to give him reason to trust her. Besides, it might feel good to finally tell someone. “It’s where I’m from. I did something there that I’m… not proud of.” That makes two of us. “What did you do?” You mean, besides abandoning everyone I care about? My wife, my little girl, my friends? “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” It’s fine. In the time I’ve been here, I’ve done a lot of thinking. “Pardon me for asking, but what happened to you?” Now that’s a story.

The way to my birth place is a long, dreadful and prosperous journey. This place is meaningful and carries lots of memories. Starting with the Harley Davidson bikes that is the first attraction tourist’s love. Leading to the horrifying, empty, and isolated buildings with homeless people in my peripheral vision. In addition to the unpleasant noises from fireworks, and gun shots which sound so close that people want to take cover at any given moment. This place gets so cold that some people have to wear two pair of pants, three shirts, a hat, earmuffs and maybe even five pair of socks just to keep their toes from getting frost bite.

This love for water deepened as our family sojourned from one Naval base to another. Before my eighteenth birthday, I had dipped my toes in the waves at least eleven beaches, from the island of Saipan to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. This mobile childhood sparked a lifelong passion to travel the world, seeking the natural beauty of God’s magnificent creation. Water covers nearly three-quarters of the earth, therefore the opportunities to nourish my soul are more than abundant.

When people ask me who is my Michigan hero, I would say my mother. My mother is not like the others, she is a hardworking, love filling, and the most supportive person and loves me for who I am. I am not saying that other mothers are not like that, but I feel like she is special, one of a kind, and the love of my life. She put up the effort to raise a child and set other things off for me. Without my mother, I would not be who I am today.

I headed out to the water after setting up my towel. The shock of the frigid water took my breath away and I was momentarily stunned. However, I quickly recovered; finding my body adjusts rapidly to the cold water. I waded a few feet into it before leaning forward and swimming out. I didn't dare to go too far though, instead turning to swim parallel to the shore. I was comforted by the sounds of the ocean; the rhythmic pounding of the waves represses all of my worries. I looked into the cloudless cerulean blue sky and see the perfection of life. Just when I was starting to get tired and wanted to go back to the shore, I saw something.