As I see it, myth is a fundamental human tool. It makes space for our innate desire to create and derive meaning from the world around us. Myths seemingly arise from a worldly curiosity—across cultures and centuries, humans develop the same patterns, the same symbols, and the same essential questions. For example, there is a Great Flood story recorded in the mythology of peoples around the world— from the Christians and the Greeks to the Innuit and the Chinese. At the root of that story is a colossal archaeological event, an event so formidable that it demanded some sort of fantastical explanation. How else would humans be able to make any sense of it? It is in the moments where we realize our mortality, our need for togetherness, and our desperation for more than an existence that myths are born. When engaged collectively, mythologies tend to illuminate a record of inquiry into the human condition: what it means to be human, who we are as part of a larger ecosystem, why and what we think about, and how we engage creatively throughout our lives. They are both evidence and result of cultural and historical traditions: transmissions of experiences and values defined by language
And these myths do not simply die; they become woven into the fabric of our essential humanity. Nor are they stagnant; instead, mythologies are like ecosystems— they exist in conversation with their audiences without any boundary or rule. There is no authority. Myths are collective creations that develop a tradition, but are constantly retold and adapted. They both form and are informed by culture. The familiar foundational myth of Romulus and Remus, the boys raised by a she-wolf? That myth is still tangible in contemporary Roman culture; around each corner, the sense of who they are and where they came from is clear. The stories that survive in cultures around the world are the collections of generations of human experiences—they tell us what we have learned and where we might go. Myth is this unique and elusive mode of communication that not only preserves the tradition of knowledge but also shapes our understanding of identity and community.
In our OCH seminar, we have yet to define myth. We dance around it each week, discussing “myth-busting” and monomyths, stories, and religions. Here’s the thing: our language only allows us to define terms and concepts by what something is not. But maybe “myth” just is. Maybe it’s education, culture, experience, the personification of the human condition, and anything else that we need it to be. Myth is a universal product and a producer of meaning altogether, so maybe it cannot be traditionally defined.