Cow (La Vaca) by outstanding Latin American author Augusto Monterroso (1921-2003)
Reading this short-short snapping story (included below) prompts me to share several philosophic reflections revolving around two Joseph Campbell quotes -
"With respect to the development of each individual's psychology, we have such varied sources from which we've come and such varied opportunities in our lives that there is no single mythology that can have it for us. My belief is that within the field of a secular society, which is a sort of neutral frame that allows individuals to develop their own lives, so long as they don't annoy their neighbors too much, each of us has an individual myth that's driving us, which we may or may not know."
If you take a look at Augusto's Cow you will see the author feels a profound connection between himself and the dead cow he has just seen while looking out the window of a train - "no one to bury her or edit her complete works."
The joy Augusto expresses arises from his own myth that drives his life: like the cow who has given of herself "all the streams of foaming milk," he himself is a creator, an artist, a writer who nourishes his fellow humans (and, by extension, all of life) with his unique fable-like fictions.
"Mythological images are the images by which the consciousness is put in touch with the unconscious. That's what they are. When you don't have your mythological images, or when your consciousness rejects them for some reason or other, you are out of touch with your own deepest part. I think that's the purpose of a mythology that we can live by. We have to find the one that we are in fact living by and know what it is so that we can direct our craft with competence."
August knows the mythology he's living by and thus his life is enriched. So the question becomes: what mythology are you living by? What mythological images put your conscious mind in touch with your unconscious? Hint: you might think in terms of the myth of creativity instead of or in addition to the myth of creation. Meanwhile, enjoy Augusto's tale.
COW
While I was traveling on the train the other day, I suddenly stood up, happy on my own two feet, and began to wave my hands with joy and invite everyone to look at the scenery and see the twilight that was really glorious. The women, the children, and some gentlemen who interrupted their conversation all looked at me in surprise and laughed; when I quietly sat down again, there was no way for them to know what I had just seen at the side of the road: a dead, really dead cow moving past slowly with no one to bury her or edit her complete works or deliver a deeply felt and moving speech about how good she had been and all the streams of foaming milk she had given so that life in general and the train in particular could keep on going.
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