Why Myth?
Humans are a storied species—we have told stories for millennia as a way to sustain ourselves, to remember who we are, and to orient toward where we are going. As more and more books are banned and access to transformative tales becomes limited—whether through censorship or the numbing pull of short-form technology—we are losing our connection to the deep stories that hold us and remind us where we are in the messy terrain of chaos and creativity. We are, indeed, living through mythic times, and without a shared lexicon of meaning, the chaos can feel overwhelming.
The forests are full of monsters, and the way through the woods has been lost. Logic cannot guide us here, for there is a lie to twist every turn and truth. How, then, do we find our way in the shadows? How do we remember that we won’t always be in the heavy, oppressive chthonic depths? Jonah doesn’t stay in the belly of the whale. Inanna resurrects off the death-hook. Odysseus returns home.
Returning to the old tales and recovering a mythic literacy is how we begin to remember the old ways of seeing and navigate the transformational terrain of our lives and times. This mythological guidance reconnects us to soul-speak—the way-markers of archetypes and story-codes, talking animals, and animate, wild landscapes and seasons. Stories, symbols, and myths become the golden thread we can follow through shadow and light, despair and delight, carrying us toward understanding and hope. A mythological lens is a way of holding on to this thread, offering a map for the heart and soul when logic alone cannot guide us. Even in hopeless times, the thread of story leads us home, reminding us that the swirling chaos of our times is not the end but the threshold to renewal, meaning, and transformation.
Over a decade ago, I found myself in the selva oscura—the dark woods, the dark night of the soul, as the mystics call it—and discovered that the language of my religious upbringing no longer offered the comfort or guidance I so desperately needed. Even as a trained theologian, the old religious stories felt thin, emaciated, unable to hold the hope I sought at the well.
It was a wise elder and mentor who introduced me to mythopoetics, and I began to return to the old, ancient stories of my childhood with fresh eyes. In some ways, it was like doing exegesis on fairy tales—not to tame them, not to extract a neat meaning—but to recover the wild wisdom they held. This work became a saving grace, deepening my studies and practice in applied mythology, and restoring my capacity to find hope in times that often feel hopeless.
Through a mythopoetic lens, I have learned to read the land, the sacred storiesembedded in place, and the cycles of human and more-than-human life, integrating that into my theological and spiritual ecology praxis. It is a lens that provides both ancient and ever-new language for understanding the holy world around me and within me—and it is this lens, this way of seeing and being, that I want to share.
I have been a story carrier for decades now. In particular, I have carried the story of the Handless Maiden for nearly eleven years. I have traveled through the underworld and back, spiraled through that storied kingdom many times, and in the process, I have grown back my hands in more ways than one. I have done this in community, in communion with the more-than-human world, and in dialogue with the Writer of all Stories. It is this journey, and the living guidance it has offered me, that I now offer to you. We are living through mythic times. We must recover a rooted and tangled literacy to ensure that we can still find hope at the well.
What is mythopoetics?
Mythopoetics is a way of understanding life through myth, story, and archetype. It reveals symbolic wisdom that helps us navigate transformation, crisis, and renewal. This isn’t so unlike a scripture-based spiritual practice or practical theology where one focuses on texts, doctrines, and sacred writings as guiding principles. Mythopoetics extends this guidance to the vast library of stories that have sprung up from the living and Sacred Earth.
Why is mythic literacy important today?
In chaotic, polarized times, mythic literacy offers shared meaning, direction, and resilience. Ancient stories help us understand our inner landscape and the collective moment. If we forget that Jonah was in the belly of a whale for three days, we might believe that we will never get out of challenging situations. It is critical that we keep telling these tales as they provide story-codes, critical insight for how to navigate our current situations and hope for what is yet to come. There is an inherent faith in stories—they remind us how things have gone before, and the long arc of the story towards hope.
How do stories help during the dark night of the soul?
Stories hold symbolic maps. They remind us that descent, confusion, and shadow are archetypal stages—and that renewal follows the depths. This is essential perennial wisdom at its best. The seed must first rest in darkness, buried in the soil, before it can push upward and bloom in the light.
What is the Handless Maiden story about?
The Handless Maiden is an initiation tale about loss, endurance, spiritual maturation, and the regeneration of personal agency—growing back hands that were once taken. It is a powerful story that reminds us that we do this regenerative work not alone, but with the helpers along the way and a forest hut willed with companions.
Join the 2026 cohort: A 12-month learning journey to gain meaning & mystery through the Earth’s rhythms, sacred phenology, applied mythology, eco-spirituality, and the power of the feminine circle. The course runs from January 2026-December 2026. 12-Month Payment Plan: Payments start at registration and continue for 11 consecutive months. Your plan may finish before the course ends, depending on your registration date.