I watched as the man they called David helped me up and onto the bench. Though I knew I’d never met him before, there was something familiar about him, a sort of connection that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“That feeling you have is quite common,” said Yewell, again reading my thoughts, “though often overlooked. In many of your myths, the meeting of a mentor is regarded as supernatural.”

“Like Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother,” said Iman.

“He seems familiar,” I said, “but I don’t know if I’d call it supernatural.”

“This coming from the guy talking to aliens in his head,” said Yewell. Read more »

“What if we can’t find the courage to accept our call to adventure?” I asked.

“Then the call will go unanswered until you do,” said Iman. “Some of you may never find it as evidenced by the stagnation and compromises you see in your society today.”

“And those that do?”

“Those that do will realize that when you answer the call, there is always someone there to guide you on your way,” said Yewell. “Joseph Campbell called it the Meeting of a Mentor, and if you look at the myriad of myths you hail as hero stories, you will see it evidenced time and again.” Read more »

“That sounds all well and good,” I said, “but that’s just life, not really an adventure.”

Iman shook his head. “An adventure is any undertaking that includes risk and an unsure outcome. Any time you put yourself out there or expand yourself, you risk losing the you that you are. You risk losing the comfort zone you’ve created for yourself. You risk the security you’ve wrapped yourself up in. Any time you try something new, it assures that you will not be engaging the same old same old you’re accustomed to. Thus the adventure begins.”

“What if we don’t want to risk it?” I said. “I mean, what if we like the status quo? Like  you said, it’s comfortable. It’s safe.”

“A good number of the calls to adventure are left unheeded,” said Yewell. “They are heard and refused because they seem either too large and daunting or too small or insignificant. However, each of the calls goes forth with purpose and untold opportunity for growth. Ignoring any of the calls results in the stagnation not only of the hero but of society at large. For the person that is living consciously, no adventure is too big and no adventure is too small.” Read more »

“What do you mean that I am the Ordinary World?” I asked.

“We mean just that,” Yewell explained. “The world you see around you is a reflection of who you are.”

“So it’s a reflection of me, but it’s not actually me.”

“It’s a reflection of you and it is you,” said Iman. “Have you ever heard the expression ‘as a man thinks in his heart so is he’?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there you go. The way you think defines who you are. Everything you see in the world around you is a thought you are having. Therefore, it is you.” Read more »

“What do you mean we each need to be our own hero?” I asked.

“Since mankind started communicating with one another,” Iman began, “you have marveled at those who performed above average feats and heralded their exploits through stories. You create myths about these characters as if they were actually super human, from historical figures that instigated great social change…”

“Like Martin Luther King or Gandhi,” Yewell added.

“…to military leaders…”

“Like Alexander the Great and George Patton…”

“…to normal everyday people who seem to go above and beyond the call of duty.”

“…like firemen and ER doctors.”

“Yet each of these people,” Iman continued,” were merely human, complete with all of the frailties and weaknesses that each of you possess. Yet they each overcame their weaknesses and their obstacles to stand out from the average person to do extraordinary things with their lives.”

“When we say that you can be your own heroes,” Yewell said, “we mean that each of you has the capacity to do the same thing.” Read more »

I stood alone staring at the items on the slab for quite awhile. Though the aliens had walked me through their meanings, I still sensed that my journey had just begun. For although I went through the steps and even felt what it was like to experience them in all of their glory, I knew that it was only in my mind and that the real experience would be drastically different than flaming wands and coins growing from trees.

“Are you ready for the next stage,” I heard Iman say.

As I turned to look at him, the snow-covered landscape disappeared and the three of us were once again smack dab in the middle of the nebulous void.

“Where did everything go?” I asked, turning 360 degrees to survey the encroaching inky blackness.

“Into another crevice of your mind,” said Yewell. “There are plenty of them, you know. More pockets than a pair of cargo pants.”

“That’s one of the ways that you’re able to manage all of your thoughts,” said Iman. “Can you imagine experiencing all of the thoughts in your head simultaneously?”

“Not really,” I said. “Would that be so bad?”

Iman and Yewell looked at each other, blinking large bovine eyes. They each took a step toward me and placed a hand on my shoulder, much like they did when they first gave me the Estralarian Mind Meld.

“This might sting a little,” said Yewell. Read more »

I looked down at the cup in my hands, amazed not only at the beauty of the cup, but that the gifts I brought to my community were of such value that they were worthy of an ornate vessel.

“We could arrange a coffee mug if it makes you feel more comfortable,” said Yewell.

He was sitting on the edge of a large stone slab, and Iman stood on the other side. On the slab were the sword, the wand, and a bunch of coins. I was hesitant to put the cup down since it felt so good in my hands, but I knew that it belonged with the other items and was sure that the aliens had much more to show me. I placed the cup on the slab and looked at Yewell.

He stared at me nonchalantly and blinked his large black eyes like a cow, cognizant of my presence, but he seemed completely uninterested in what it meant. I looked at Iman and got the same dull stare. Although with Iman, I sensed a bit of prodding as he raised what would have been his eyebrows were he not as bald as a banana peel.

Read more »