ONWARD: Discovering the Wonder, Adventure, & Magic in Everyday Life
“Long ago, the world was full of wonder. It was adventurous, exciting, and best of all, there was magic. And that magic helped all in need. But it wasn’t easy to master. And so the world found a simpler way to get by. Over time, magic faded away. But I hope, there’s a little magic left in you.”
So says the narrator over the opening scene of Onward (2020), Disney/Pixar’s latest film. We watch as a magical world of elves, unicorns, and wizards devolves into a rendition of modern society where the elves are off to work at a corporate office, unicorns are eating trash like raccoons, and wizards don’t exist.
I love Disney movies and especially this one. I’ve seen it twice. I love that Onward makes the hero’s journey explicit, something that is only implied in most Disney movies. That may not sound like a big deal, but it is. That’s because the hero’s journey is the human journey. But more on that later.
THE KEY
Now, when I mention my love of Disney movies, I may lose you. A lot of us equate them and other animated films with children. It seems like these movies are made for kids with some adult humor sprinkled in for the parents. And there is some truth to that. But it’s far from the whole story. In fact, from a certain perspective these movies are more relevant to adults (more relevant to you!). But it takes a key to reveal that.
I’ll tell you the key right now because the fun part isn’t the key. The fun part is using the key to open the story — to unlock the magic, inspiration, and sacredness hidden in plain sight.
Here is the key:
These movies are to be watched as metaphor.
Stay with me here because this could dramatically alter how you watch these films. You can watch these movies as entertainment and take them at face-value. That’s how children watch them. You watch the hero or heroine leave home on an adventure, face challenges, meet strange people or animals, have minor triumphs, then a major challenge, a major triumph, and then the return home. Many of the Disney movies are coming-of-age stories, so they center around someone moving from adolescence to adulthood during this adventure — seemingly making it even less relevant to an adult audience.
But all of this is just what is happening on the surface. And if you’re watching the movie on that level, that’s fine. But you’re missing out on so much depth, so many more dimensions.
At a deeper level, every one of these movies is telling the human story. The journey that you and I are on. That’s the metaphorical (or mythological) level, where the story points beyond itself to the timeless human experience. The story points beneath the surface — past the specifics of the film — to the archetypal challenges, triumphs, and characters that we all encounter.
Moana (2016) may be about a young girl who must travel beyond the protective reef, but on a deeper level it’s about anytime you or I have chosen to travel outside our comfort zone. Pinocchio (1940) may be about a wooden puppet who wants to become a “real boy,” but it’s also the story of anytime you or I have taken the journey toward a more real, authentic self. Star Wars (1977) may be about a young man who has to leave home to help save the galaxy, but it’s also about anytime you or I have been called to a commitment or purpose that is bigger-than-ourselves.
And we’ll see the same with Onward. What seems like a story about a 16-year-old boy discovering magic is really about how all of us can discover the magic and sacred in life.
That’s the key.
Hopefully, I’ve been able to make it clear for you, so let’s use it to unlock Onward and see what lies in the depths of this “children’s film.”
THE FALL
The movie begins in an ancient time when creatures of all types interacted with each other peacefully, including mermaids in the lakes, goblins in the mountains, and wizards bringing magic to all. The scene points to an existence like Adam and Eve had in Eden. But just like the Biblical story, there is a fall. Now the Disney movie isn’t so dramatic, but the landscape does change as the creatures of this magical world discover technology.
A cyclops, who is being trained to master magic, quickly gives up and decides to use a light bulb to create light instead of his wizard staff — “It’s so easy!” he exclaims. More and more of the creatures are seen taking the “easy route.” By the end, the mermaids are no longer in a lake, they’re in a swimming pool. The goblins are out of the mountains and using an electric fireplace to create heat. A centaur is shown playing a version of Dance Dance Revolution.
I don’t think the point of the movie is to demonize technology, but rather to show that something was gained (comfort, ease, material progress) and something was lost (magic, ritual, wonder, community).
The modern equivalent may be how real food became fast food, friendships became Facebook friends, and Shakespeare became Netflix.
Can some of what was lost be recovered?
That’s the adventure.
(It’s interesting to note that the film is titled “Onward,” even though it’s about honoring and reviving aspects of the past. Maybe there is something from the past that can help us move forward?)
THE JOURNEY OF SELF-DISCOVERY
The story revolves around two elves: Ian and his older brother Barley. Their dad passed away when they were very young, but it’s Ian’s 16th birthday and his mom pulls out a wrapped gift from their dad that had been kept in the attic. It’s a wizard staff that he wanted them to have when they were old enough. It also includes a magical spell to conjure him up for one day so he could “see who my boys grew up to be.”
Barley is amazed and can’t believe that “Dad was a wizard!”
His mom corrects him, “Hold on, your dad was an accountant.”
They thought dad was just a boring accountant, but he was also a wizard and knew magic. This discovery immediately transforms how Ian and Barley view their dad. It’s the first of many such transformations in the film — shifts in how the characters view and relate to themselves, others, and the world.
(By the way, don’t die without letting your family and friends know that you’re a wizard.)
Ian, who up to this point has been an awkward teenager, is about to be set on a quest to discover who he is.
This was foreshadowed in the scene just prior to opening the gift. Ian asks his mom, “What was dad like when he was my age? Was he always super confident?”
“Oh no,” his mom replies. “It took him a while to find out who he was.”
What an interesting response right?
She turns a question about confidence into one of identity.
I’m reminded of Elf (2003), one of my favorite Christmas movies. Early in the movie, Buddy, played by Will Ferrell, is upset to learn that he is a human and not an elf like everyone else. Papa Elf comforts Buddy and tells him that his real father lives in a magical place called New York City. Buddy, feeling lost and confused, escapes outside into the snow where he encounters Leon the Snowman. Leon tells Buddy that, “This might be the golden opportunity to find out who you really are.”
Most people watching Elf totally miss that line, but it is one of those lines that from a metaphorical perspective is incredibly rich.
I mean, what is that line even referring to? “Find out who you really are”? What does it mean when we say that someone is “trying to find himself”? Where did their self go? How did they lose it? Why do they need to travel to New York City (Elf) or Bali (Eat Pray Love) or the Land of the Dead (Coco) to find it?
I don’t have the perfect answer to those questions, but I think it’s something along the lines of discovering (“finding”) your authentic self. Discovering your real hopes, wishes, and dreams that may have been covered up by cultural conditioning, peer pressure, and fear. Discovering the courage, creativity, and love that often lies dormant in your soul. Discovering a new, deeper relationship to yourself, others, and the world around you.
This discovery is not a singular event, but rather a process that unfolds over a lifetime.
Disney movies can act as our Leon the Snowman. They can remind us that whatever we’re dealing with — turning 16 years old, changing jobs, opening a business, moving to a new city, making friends, starting a family, retiring, treating an illness — can be the “golden opportunity to find out who you really are.”
Maybe the magic that Onward is referring to is not literal magic, but rather the “magic” that is the love, courage, and creativity that we’re talking about here. Maybe magic is when you’re living from and sharing your authentic self. Maybe a “wizard” is someone who unlocks that magic in others.
But how do we do that? How do we find out who we really are? Where can we discover the magic and wonder?
That’s exactly what Onward is about.
THE 1st SOURCE OF MAGIC: HEART’S FIRE
Ian uses the spell and wizard staff to summon his dad, but something goes wrong and he’s only able to summon his legs. To summon the rest of him, they’ll need an incredibly rare Phoenix Stone. Fortunately, his brother Barley knows where they can start their search: the Manticore’s Tavern.
On their way over, Barley begins teaching Ian about magic. Barley, whose knowledge comes from a “historically accurate” role-playing game, knows all about spells, wizards, and quests. He starts Ian off with a levitation spell. Ian uses his wizard staff and says the spell (“Aloft elevar!”) to attempt to levitate a soda can. After several failed attempts, Ian is on the verge of giving up, but Barley jumps in.
BARLEY: For any spell to work you have to speak from your heart’s fire.
IAN: My what?
BARLEY: Your heart’s fire! You must speak with passion! Don’t hold back.
Barley has introduced us to the first source of magic: Heart’s Fire.
This is part of what makes Onward such a powerful and beautiful film — that these sources of magic are made explicit.
Each hero and heroine has their own sources of magic that they discover along the way. Like when the Blue Fairy tells Pinocchio to become a real boy you must be “brave, truthful, and unselfish.” Unlike Ian, Pinocchio is told these from the outset. But like Ian, Pinocchio must discover these for himself during the journey. (I mean, what kind of journey would it be if telling someone to be honest and brave was enough?). Intellectually understanding these things is a lot different than living them. The purpose of the journey is the discovery, experiencing, and living from these sources of magic.
Ian must first discover his own voice, his passion, his heart’s fire.
An earlier scene in the film had Ian so nervous to ask a group of school friends over for his birthday that he had to write down the footnotes on his hand (“Hey gang,” “Party,” and “Cake”).
Finding your voice is a popular part of the hero’s journey. In The Little Mermaid (1989), Ariel has to reclaim her voice from the evil sea witch Ursula. In Coco (2017), Miguel travels to the Land of the Dead to have his first opportunity to perform as a musician. In Frozen (2013), Elsa finds her voice and sings what is probably the most famous Disney song–“Let it go”–after she finally leaves an oppressive environment.
In my own life, I remember how nervous I felt when I started sharing my poetic meditations several years ago. At first, I was nervous to even share them with friends and family. “What will they think? Is this stupid? I went to college for business, not poetry!” Then I was nervous to share them publicly on social media. “Once it’s online, then everyone can see it! I’m going to embarrass myself.” Finally, I was most anxious to publish my first book Words To Dance To — a 200+ page collection of these poetic meditations… but I did it! And sharing my writing and art has been easier ever since.
Have you found your voice, your passion, your heart’s fire? If not, what’s the next step toward it? What do you need to face? What do you need to sacrifice or let go of?
THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE MANTICORE
Ian and Barley arrive at the Manticore’s Tavern, only to find out that the once legendary tavern has become a family restaurant. The tavern is still run by the Manticore, a winged monster, but she now wears glasses, goes by “Corey,” and wears pieces of flair on her work uniform (like this).
When Barley approaches her, she’s anxious and skittish. Barley asks for the map to the Phoenix Gem that him and Ian need to bring back the rest of their dad.
Corey refuses. “No! My days of sending people on dangerous quests are over.”
Barley is startled. “What!? Why?”
“Because they’re dangerous!”
The conversation is cutoff because the karaoke machine is broken and a group of guests threaten to give the tavern a one-star review. When Ian confronts her (which would have been very uncharacteristic of Ian, but he has started to find his voice — his heart’s fire!), Corey reiterates her concerns about the danger and risks. “If you get hurt on one of my quests, guess who gets sued and loses her tavern? I can’t take that kind of risk.”
“You say you can’t risk losing this place, but look at that Manticore!” replies Ian as he points to an old painting of the Manticore holding a giant sword in one hand and the helmet of an enemy in the other. “She looks like she lived to take risks!”
“That Manticore didn’t have investors to look out for. She didn’t have payroll to cover. She could just fly out the door whenever she wanted… OK maybe this tavern isn’t as adventurous as it used to be. So it isn’t filled with a motley horde willing to risk life and limb for the mere taste of excitement” — she says this as an adult restaurant patron blows on his soup to make sure it’s not too hot before tasting it. “But so what? Who ever said you have to take risks in life to have an adventure?”
“Apparently, you did,” replies Ian pointing to an inscription above the old painting of the Manticore that says exactly that:
You have to take risks in life to have an adventure. — The Manticore
Have you ever felt like Corey?
Maybe back in the day you were a wild and crazy kid. You kicked and screamed and cried and laughed with joy and played with your food and danced like a lunatic and howled at the moon and stayed up all night.
But those days are long gone and now you’re more concerned about avoiding risk, appeasing the investors, and covering payroll.
What Ian points out to Corey ends up being the perfect therapeutic intervention. She immediately realizes how much she’s lost touch with her authentic, wild self. She feels the accumulated pain and anger of that lost self.
“What have I done? This place used to be dangerous and wild. I used to be dangerous and wild!” As she rips the costume head off a fuzzy Manticore mascot that has been parading around. “I’m living a lie! What have I become!?” She rips off her glasses, pieces of flair, and breathes out a stream of fire.
Ian and Barley manage to escape the tavern just in time with a map that leads to the next stop on their quest.
The transformation of the Manticore is the first major transformation of the film. There are more to come. One of the gifts of the hero’s journey is the transformation of the people around them.
Corey transformed. She reclaimed her wild self.
Just like in the world of Onward, in our own modern world we have hidden, repressed, and fought against the wild self.
In 1992, psychotherapist and storyteller, Clarissa Pinkola Estés, published her best-selling book Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype. In her foreword to the book, she writes:
“We are all filled with a longing for the wild. There are few culturally sanctioned antidotes for this yearning. We were taught to feel shame for such a desire. We grew our hair long and used it to hide our feelings. But the shadow of Wild Woman still lurks behind us during our days and in our nights. No matter where we are, the shadow that trots behind us is definitely four-footed.”
It’s not just women. In 1990, American poet Robert Bly published his best-selling book Iron John about a boy maturing into manhood with the help of the wild man. Bly writes:
“Every modern male has, lying at the bottom of his psyche, a large, primitive being covered with hair down to his feet. Making contact with this Wild Man is the step the modern male has yet to take.”
In our world of straight lines, cubicles, performance reviews, and 401Ks, we’ve lost touch with the wild self. We’re too put together, too manicured, too self-conscious and “perfect.” We’ve lost the power, the passion, and the magic that comes with being in touch with and owning our wild self.
We’re like the lion who thinks he’s a sheep.
The Roman Catholic priest and mystic Anthony de Mello used to tell this famous story:
There was a lion that grew up in a flock of sheep and so he had no awareness that he was a lion. He would bleat like a sheep, he’d eat grass like a sheep.
One day they were wandering at the edge of a big jungle when a mighty lion let out a big roar and leaped out of the forest and right into the middle of the flock. All the sheep scattered and ran away. Imagine the surprise of the jungle lion when he saw this other lion there among the sheep. So, he gave chase. He got hold of him. And there was this lion, cringing in front of the king of the jungle. And the jungle lion said to him, “What are you doing here?”
And the sheep-lion said, “Have mercy on me. Don’t eat me. Have mercy on me.” But the king of the forest dragged him away saying “Come with me.” And he took him to a lake and he said, “Look.”
So, the lion, who thought he was a sheep, looked and for the first time he saw his reflection. He saw his image. Then he looked at the jungle lion, and he looked in the water again, and he let out a mighty roar.
He was never a sheep again. It only took a minute.
THE 2nd SOURCE OF MAGIC: ATTENTION
Ian and Barley drive off from the Manticore’s Tavern with a map to Raven’s Point, where they expect to find the Phoenix Stone.
They don’t last long before Barley’s beloved van “Guinevere” runs out of gas. They pull off the road with no gas station in sight. Fortunately, Barley has a gas can with a few drops of gas left. Ian can use a growth spell to grow the can and the gas inside it.
IAN: OK heart’s fire. Here we go.
BARLEY: Whoa! It’s not that simple… A growth spell is a bit more advanced. Not only do you have to speak from your heart’s fire, but now you also have to follow a magic decree.
IAN: A magic what?
BARLEY: It’s a special rule that keeps the spell working right. This one states: “To magnify an object, you have to magnify your attention upon it.” While you cast the spell you can’t let anything distract you.
Barley just introduced us to the second source of magic: Attention.
It’s worth remembering that Ian and Barley are speaking in terms of literal magic and spells, but on a deeper level they’re talking about the sources of “magic” (love, passion, wonder) in everyday life and the “spells” (actions) that create it.
We all know from our own lives the power of focus and attention.
When we put our attention on what’s wrong, what’s upsetting us, and what we’re angry about, what happens? More of the same.
When we put our attention on love, gratitude, and passion, we also get more of the same.
You may have heard of the new-age philosophy called the “Law of Attraction” which states something very similar to the magical decree that Barley shared. The way that Jack Canfield, co-author of Chicken Soup for the Soul, describes the law is: “Whatever you focus on, think about, read about, and talk about, you’re going to attract more of into your life.”
Or as the popular phrase goes: “What you put out into the universe is what you get back.”
Your energy and attention matter. They have real impact.
In Star Wars (1977), Yoda is constantly teaching Luke the power of concentration and being present. When Luke lets go of his doubts, insecurities, and fears and is able to focus his energy and attention is when he is most powerful with the Force.
Wonder, magic, and love are always found here in the present. When we’re regretting the past, we miss it. When we’re worried about the future, we miss it.
Our attention — our focus, our energy — is precious and sacred. Like a wizard staff, we want to be careful and intentional about how we wield it and where we direct it.
There’s an old Cherokee story about two wolves:
One evening, an elderly Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.
“My son, the battle is between two wolves inside us all. One is evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.”
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf wins?”
The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one that you feed.”
As Barley might say, “To magnify the love and wonder in your life, magnify your attention upon it.”
Feed the magical wolf inside of you.
THE 3rd SOURCE OF MAGIC: TRUST
Ian and Barley get the gas they need. They drive far from the city, but just before reaching Raven’s Point, they come across a giant chasm.
IAN: What is it?
BARLEY: A bottomless pit. Whatever falls in there, falls forever.
Unfortunately, the lever to lower the drawbridge is on the other side of the chasm. Ian fails in trying to re-use one of the earlier spells.
BARLEY: What we need is a Trust Bridge. It’s a spell that creates a magical bridge you can walk on.
IAN: (casts the spell, but nothing seems to happen) It didn’t work!
BARLEY: No, the spell is still going. You won’t know if your bridge worked until you step on it.
IAN: Step on what?
BARLEY: If you believe the bridge is there, then it’s there.
IAN: (terrified) I’m not going to step out onto nothing!
Does this scene remind you of another movie? In Indiana Jones: The Last Crusade (1989), Indy has to do the exact same thing (here) to cross a chasm and help save his father. He has to take a “leap of faith” for the bridge to appear.
The scene introduces us to the third source of magic: Trust.
Now, this is a Disney movie, so of course Ian makes it to the other side.
But like Ian, when you’re standing at one end of a chasm, you’re terrified. And in real life, the length of the chasm is never clear. In fact, it’s rare that you even know there is an other side!
Real life requires the courage to take that step. And the trust (faith) in knowing that the other side is there waiting for you. It’s the trust that you will cross the void and eventually reach solid ground.
I had an experience of crossing the void in my own life. In my late 20s, what had been a clear path in life, turned vague and hazy. I felt scared, lost, and confused. I couldn’t see the next step. It took support from my community and the courage to take that step — even without seeing it. It took a while, but eventually I started to feel the ground under my feet again. (I wrote more about this chapter of my life here).
It’s crossing the abyss — taking that step into nothing.
As American environmentalist John Burroughs wrote, “Leap, and the net will appear.”
This is a specific scene in Onward, but it’s symbolic of the whole film. From the outset, Ian and Barley have no idea what’s next. They don’t know who they’ll encounter, what creatures, what obstacles, or what challenges. They have no way of predicting what the journey will require of them — what skills, wisdom, or sacrifices.
But isn’t that what defines their path?
Each step includes their unique encounters, challenges, or triumphs.
Their path — their life — is created each step of the way.
I love the story that the great mythologist Joseph Campbell used to tell:
There is a moment in King Arthur’s banquet hall when all the knights are assembled around the Round Table. Then the Holy Grail showed itself to the assembled knights — not in its full glory but covered with a great, radiant cloth. Then it withdrew. All were left ravished, sitting there in awe.
Finally, Gawain, Arthur’s nephew, stood up and said, “I propose that we all go in quest of that Grail.”
Now we come to the text that most interested me: “They thought it would be a disgrace to go forth in a group. Each entered the Forest Adventurous at that point which he himself had chosen, where it was darkest and there was no way or path.”
You enter the forest at the darkest point, where there is no path. Where there’s a way or path, it is someone else’s path; each human being is a unique phenomenon.
Campbell sums it up this way:
If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path.
THE LAST SOURCE OF MAGIC
Ian and Barley’s path leads them to Raven’s Point, through an underground tunnel, and all the way back to their hometown where they face a giant stone dragon.
With the help of their mom and Corey, they destroy the dragon and save their dad, allowing Barley to have a short, but precious moment with him.
The film ends with a look into the new transformed world — a world that re-discovered some of the wonder, adventure, and magic of the past.
The final scenes point to the last source of magic: Community.
The hero’s journey is usually seen as an individual undertaking. And there is truth to that (just like the King Arthur story alluded to), but it’s far from the whole story.
Because the whole story is that it’s a communal journey — many people, many characters, many masks, many roles, many paths.
Self and community are inseparable.
The transformation of self is the transformation of community.
The world transforms as you do.
It all comes together.
Ian and Barley discovered magic, confidence, and their love for each other. Their mom discovered her power and sense of adventure. Corey reclaimed her wild self. Many other minor characters were impacted too. Their mom’s boyfriend Officer Bronco regained his health and vitality and the pixies rediscovered their ability to fly.
Ian’s friends, the ones he was too nervous to even speak to early in the film, are seen inviting him to hang out later, which Ian confidently accepts. It’s clear that he’s more connected with himself and others.
When you “find yourself,” you find others.
That’s because the more you can see and experience your own humanity, the more you can see and experience the humanity of others.
Community and connection are a natural consequence of the journey. They are a source of magic, but they are also a result of it.
Can you see why I love Disney films?
From a metaphorical (mythological) perspective, they can have so much to offer. Onward shows us the power of discovering our Heart’s Fire, of focusing our Attention, and of deepening our Trust. There is magic there. And adventure. And wonder.
Take some of that for yourself.
Know that your day-to-day life, your problems, your challenges, your obstacles are so much more poetic and heroic than they may appear. You can find inspiration for that in unlikely places, like a “children’s movie.” You can look deeper and find yourself in the characters — in their stories, in their challenges, and in their triumphs.
This essay wasn’t really about Onward or wizards or spells.
This was about you, your life, your adventure, your community. I hope you read it that way. I hope you’re inspired to find a little wonder today, a little adventure, a little magic.
Who knows, maybe you will discover that you’re actually a wizard.
