As the old saying goes, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. That is something all of us mostly seem to learn through bitter experience. Sadly enough, it applies to so many things in our lives: homes, relatives, friends, lovers, jobs, employees, opportunities, even freedom and democracies.
Sometimes though, the experience is not just bitter, but instead it is bittersweet. One of the most powerful scenes in one of my favorite movies, John Boorman’s Excalibur, is the moment when Merlin comes to King Arthur to bid him farewell.
“It’s your time, Arthur,” Merlin says. The legendary king tells Merlin, “I need you now, more than ever.”
That might be true. This is just before everything goes off the rails. The kingdom of Camelot falters, oaths are broken and the final reckoning is not too far off, when Arthur will lead his nights into battle one last time against the forces of evil led by his own son Mordred.
“No, this is the moment you must face at last,” Merlin says firmly. “To be king— alone.”
“And you, old friend?” Arthur says with sadness in his eyes. “Will I ever see you again?”
“No,” Merlin seems almost amused. “There are other worlds. This one is done with me.”
Warrior and wizard embrace and Arthur walks off into a world without the sage advice and cunning of his old mentor.
This is the part of every hero’s journey, when they must stand or fall without the magical assistance and enchanted weapons they have relied upon thus far. It often coincides with a descent into the underword, a leap into the abyss where all our fears and weaknesses must be confronted.
No, I didn’t suddenly slip up and unintentionally go from “the hero” to “us” in one sentence. It was quite deliberate.
We are the heroes, all of us— in our own stories at least.
Merlin the mentor faced his own trials after leaving Arthur. Arthur certainly faced plenty when the wizard was gone. Each of them had their own story and their own parts to play. As we part from familiar settings and people and they from us, it might be worth a moment of reflection if we are Arthur or Merlin in the scenario. Who is leaving who? And who has to be stronger once they stand alone?
Obviously they were stronger as a united force together, but no one can truly know their own strength until they only rely upon themselves.
Sooner or later, we all have to stand alone. It happens to some earlier than others. Perhaps some never face it until laying upon their deathbed. Either way, a moment of truth comes to each of us and that more than anything decides if we are the hero of our story or just another villain.
I often think about a famous photo. A crowd of people in 1936 Nazi Germany all dutifully throw out their arms and crying “Sieg Heil!” Easy to miss among the throng is one man standing among the others, his arms folded across his chest.
The identity of the man is contested, which is a shame. Knowing his name would let us know his reasons. The two most common stories are that he had been forced into penal labor because he had married a Jewish woman or that he refused to salute upon religious grounds.
There is a certain poetry to not knowing. He could be anyone, but whoever he was, there was a man not afraid to stand alone. It is easy for us to imagine being that hero, that lone wolf, refusing to salute evil.
All I will say, is everyone around him was convinced they too were heroes. When your time comes to make a stand, examine your professed heroism closely. You could be Arthur. You could be Merlin.
But you could also be Mordred.
