We had been invited to participate in the sacred creation of chocolate, just as it was practiced by the ancient Mayan discoverers of chocolate. I was in awe, but I was also–at least partly–ashamed.
It’s true that Frodo is given gifts beyond what any ordinary person could expect (swords, rings, chain mail, lights of Galadriel), but in the end it is his sheer act of will that gets him to the chasms of Mount Doom. And there he fails.
Yet even with a literature replete with warning, we find ourselves enacting weird efforts to attract the opposite sex on our own with Axe body sprays, faux perms and balayage, Forever 21 sales, and Tinder profiles. Call them “Love Potion Lite,” protection against our own insecurities. It’s a kind of Cinderella complex–without the duds, no ball.
Most of us understand the term “odyssey” to be a time of adventurous journey, patterned after the classical quest of the Odyssey, the epic by the Greek Homer. Such a definition is hardly revealing, however, and it potentially misses a level of significance for all of us.