I am about to set course on another Odyssey that life has thrown my way.
Like the indifferent and capricious gods of ancient Greece who tormented humanity with their controlling games of hubris and self-indulgence, I - like many - suffer the trials of survival and the pains of illness until the gods decide to shine on me and make me well again.
For people in ancient Greece, they suffered the willfulness of the fates and lived out their lives as best they could, hoping that their offerings, tithing, and sacrifices to the gods would help them be more successful than say, the town just down the coast of one of the most beautiful places on earth.
For the modern person, the fates are a delusional excuse to blame something or someone else for the misfortune that seems to be thrust into our laps, or in my case, in my torso in general. But someone's gotta do it, so it's my turn on the merry-go-round. Although I have had a couple of turns...
Maybe if I had sacrificed that cat in 1965 by flinging it off the bridge, instead of letting it go, the fates may not have sat around cogitating what particular pestilence they would send my way. Because, really, the fates don't like cats in general and must have seen my release of that particular cat as the basis for thousand more cats that now run free in the world.
Spay or neuter my friends.
Let me re-phrase that, Spay or neuter your pets, my friends. There, that's better.
I have had many misfortunes in my life (but haven't we all), and one always wants to know what they could have done earlier that may have set a different course.
Like Odysseus when he left the fateful shores of Troy after the battle to wander for years until he could find his home again, he must have wondered why, and not just ascribed it to which god in the Pantheon of Greek gods that might be toying with him.
And, more than likely when he had to tie himself to the belly of a sheep to save himself and his crew, which some people do for their own enjoyment, a question mark must have wrung somewhere in his mind, thinking, maybe I should not have gone to Troy in the first place, but just stayed home with Penelope and enjoyed the fruits of my island. Sort of what we feel collectively as a nation about about sojourn in the arid and mountainous climes of Afghanistan.
But once he sailed, the gods were at play and the winds of the fates blew hard against all the Greeks for the fortunes they would achieve or loose in the dark corners of their ambition to seize Troy and Helen, and then return home for the temporal honors they would achieve.
Achilles would not make the trip - he had an achilles problem.
But, Menelaus would return with the fickle Helen (was it just her looks or was she really good on the old sheep skin sheets that caused a thousands ships to sail?) and Agamemnon, who would return to Mycennae the King of kings of the ancient Greeks to buried in a tomb with the riches of his time buried within.
Poor Odysseus however, was cast away from Greece and was lost across the sea for years fighting the delusions of his soul and overcoming the mysteries of his beliefs to finally return home.
The Cyclops, as strong as he was, was blinded by his own ambitions, if not Odysseus's spike, and failed to see anything beyond his own greed and meanness. And once Odysseus had given up his name to the one-eyed Polyphemus, Poseidon caused Odysseus to wander even further into the darkness of his misfortunes, to encounter the witch Circe and other obstacles that slowed his progress home.
There's always someone to blame and why not the gods.
But, Odysseus made the trip, and finally, having been given a leather bag full of all the winds, which I usually gather after a meal at On the Border (a Mexican Restaurant), he was able to navigate and scramble across the sea to his home island propelled in part by a strong rear wind.
Home at last! Home at Last! he said as he made his way up the hardscrabble beach of his island.
My ship sails on this voyage on Monday morning. I am packed and ready to go meet the Lotus Eaters of my time and to loose my mind in the toxic wonderland of the drugs they will give me.
I am also ready to continue the journey and find myself on some Greek island sometime in the future, basking in the warm sun of Odysseus, when and where I will shout to the gods, Home at Last! Home at Last! you motherfuckers!
Like the indifferent and capricious gods of ancient Greece who tormented humanity with their controlling games of hubris and self-indulgence, I - like many - suffer the trials of survival and the pains of illness until the gods decide to shine on me and make me well again.
For people in ancient Greece, they suffered the willfulness of the fates and lived out their lives as best they could, hoping that their offerings, tithing, and sacrifices to the gods would help them be more successful than say, the town just down the coast of one of the most beautiful places on earth.
For the modern person, the fates are a delusional excuse to blame something or someone else for the misfortune that seems to be thrust into our laps, or in my case, in my torso in general. But someone's gotta do it, so it's my turn on the merry-go-round. Although I have had a couple of turns...
Maybe if I had sacrificed that cat in 1965 by flinging it off the bridge, instead of letting it go, the fates may not have sat around cogitating what particular pestilence they would send my way. Because, really, the fates don't like cats in general and must have seen my release of that particular cat as the basis for thousand more cats that now run free in the world.
Spay or neuter my friends.
Let me re-phrase that, Spay or neuter your pets, my friends. There, that's better.
I have had many misfortunes in my life (but haven't we all), and one always wants to know what they could have done earlier that may have set a different course.
Like Odysseus when he left the fateful shores of Troy after the battle to wander for years until he could find his home again, he must have wondered why, and not just ascribed it to which god in the Pantheon of Greek gods that might be toying with him.
And, more than likely when he had to tie himself to the belly of a sheep to save himself and his crew, which some people do for their own enjoyment, a question mark must have wrung somewhere in his mind, thinking, maybe I should not have gone to Troy in the first place, but just stayed home with Penelope and enjoyed the fruits of my island. Sort of what we feel collectively as a nation about about sojourn in the arid and mountainous climes of Afghanistan.
But once he sailed, the gods were at play and the winds of the fates blew hard against all the Greeks for the fortunes they would achieve or loose in the dark corners of their ambition to seize Troy and Helen, and then return home for the temporal honors they would achieve.
Achilles would not make the trip - he had an achilles problem.
But, Menelaus would return with the fickle Helen (was it just her looks or was she really good on the old sheep skin sheets that caused a thousands ships to sail?) and Agamemnon, who would return to Mycennae the King of kings of the ancient Greeks to buried in a tomb with the riches of his time buried within.
Poor Odysseus however, was cast away from Greece and was lost across the sea for years fighting the delusions of his soul and overcoming the mysteries of his beliefs to finally return home.
The Cyclops, as strong as he was, was blinded by his own ambitions, if not Odysseus's spike, and failed to see anything beyond his own greed and meanness. And once Odysseus had given up his name to the one-eyed Polyphemus, Poseidon caused Odysseus to wander even further into the darkness of his misfortunes, to encounter the witch Circe and other obstacles that slowed his progress home.
There's always someone to blame and why not the gods.
But, Odysseus made the trip, and finally, having been given a leather bag full of all the winds, which I usually gather after a meal at On the Border (a Mexican Restaurant), he was able to navigate and scramble across the sea to his home island propelled in part by a strong rear wind.
Home at last! Home at Last! he said as he made his way up the hardscrabble beach of his island.
My ship sails on this voyage on Monday morning. I am packed and ready to go meet the Lotus Eaters of my time and to loose my mind in the toxic wonderland of the drugs they will give me.
I am also ready to continue the journey and find myself on some Greek island sometime in the future, basking in the warm sun of Odysseus, when and where I will shout to the gods, Home at Last! Home at Last! you motherfuckers!
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