Why do we Return to Great Stories?

Why do we connect to stories? And why do we connect to them differently when we grow older, or meet them again after some major shift in life? The answer has to with something that sits underneath good writing and character development. Metaphors are what guide us to find meaning, and ultimately ourselves, in a good yarn.

Strong stories rarely carry only one myth. They convey several myths at once,  moving through different symbolic patterns like exile, initiation, sacrifice, rescue, rebellion, transformation, return. And as we live our lives, we do not always respond to the same myth each time. At one age, we might be drawn to the adventure. Later, we may notice the political struggle, or the longing for a larger world, or the fear of becoming like the enemy.

Take Star Wars: A New Hope. It can be read through at least three active myths.

First, there is the myth of the orphan called into destiny. Luke begins in a small, ordinary world, looking toward the horizon. He does not yet know who he is, but the story tells us that identity is not simply inherited. It is discovered through action, danger, and choice.

Second, there is the myth of the old wisdom and tradition passed to the young. Obi-Wan is a mentor. But he also carries memory, discipline, and a broken history. Through him, the past enters the present. The story asks whether old knowledge can survive the moral catastrophes of the present agr and whether a new generation can receive it without mindlessly repeating it.

Third, there is the myth of rebellion against the devouring empire. The Death Star is a symbolic image of the machine: power without conscience, technology cut loose from care, community, or spiritual life. The rebels represent the collective hope against overwhelming systems.

This is why myth is important to us. Myths operate as metaphors, but they are not jyst decorative language. They are an architecture of mind. They organize how we imagine and set the structure for what is possible in the imaginary domain. 

A metaphor connects two domains of reality. When we say “the empire is a machine,” we are linking political power to mechanization and automated cruelty. That connection changes how we see both things. Politics becomes cold and dehumanizing. Machinery becomes capable of domination when it loses ethical direction. The metaphor builds a way of thinking.

This is significant for acting. The actor and the character in the story occupy two different domains. The actor has lived, embodied knowledge of self. The character, by contrast, is e a literary representation of action, conflict, desire, and consequence. The actor’s task is to find a live point of contact between these two domains.

Myth and metaphor can create that contact. They work like a double exposure. One image comes from the actor’s embodied life and the other comes from the symbolic interactions in the world of the story. Where they overlap, that synergy creates the playable moment. The role does not reduce cleanly to psychology alone. You can meet the story through it's familiar, interactive patterns and archetype.

This is why archetypes feature in the Crosspoints Acting Deck. They give the actor a way to approach the role without flattening it into an object of biography or explanation. An archetype is a charged pattern of behaviour and imagination. It helps the actor ask the questions that let desire take root. Does Luke move through the story because he; 1) feels the has always felt a part of himself was missing? 2) he is drawn to the mystery and terror of the Force and its influence on his broken family? 3) he can feel the world becoming less free, inclusive, and loving, and wants to do something about it. Which myth is active? What force is moving Luke through this scene? 

When can generate these questions, the answers can only be found in the doing; rather than the other way around by generating answers and confirming them.

The symbolic structures that are what makes new contact with experience. A myth is not a lie or an old tale we have outgrown. Filmmakers like George Lucas know that they structure dreams and feelings. They both activate and change our minds.