Recycled pillar foundation, Basilica Cistern
As our little band of global medical freedom warriors have been traveling along the Bosporus and the Sea of Marmara, both the joy of discovery and the humility of human mortality has been our constant companion. We have stood on the little hill which gave birth to ancient Byzantium, now home to the Church of St. Sophia. We were brought together to these places to consider and discuss the challenge of direction and emphasis.
Weary from battle, what shall be our mission now? What focus? Do we step back and let the many others carry the fight forward, do we remain fixated on the daily details of corruption and malfeasance? Or do we look to the horizon, seeking to lead beyond the banalities and tortuous currents towards some greater vision of the future.
As we have traveled together over the last three years, many have made references to “The Heroes Journey”, which in many ways each of us who seek to serve as true (truth) warriors must re-enact. In his work “The Hero with a Thousand Faces”, Joseph Campbell describes the ancient narrative:
A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.
In general, the journey is divided into three sectinos:
Departure (including Separation),
Initiation, and
Return.
In the departure part of the narrative, the hero or protagonist lives in the ordinary world and receives a call to go on an adventure. The hero is reluctant to follow the call but is helped by a mentor figure.
The initiation section begins with the hero then traversing the threshold to an unknown or "special world", where he faces tasks or trials, either alone or with the assistance of helpers. The hero eventually reaches "the innermost cave" or the central crisis of his adventure, where he must undergo "the ordeal" where he overcomes the main obstacle or enemy, undergoing "apotheosis" and gaining his reward (a treasure or "elixir").
In the return section, the hero must return to the ordinary world with his reward. He may be pursued by the guardians of the special world, or he may be reluctant to return and may be rescued or forced to return by intervention from the outside. The hero again traverses the threshold between the worlds, returning to the ordinary world with the treasure or elixir he gained, which he may now use for the benefit of his fellow man. The hero himself is transformed by the adventure and gains wisdom or spiritual power over both worlds.
During these most recent travels, along the Bosphorus and through both ancient Constantinople and modern Istanbul, one modern hero from our band, Publisher Tony Lyons, recited a poem he had committed to memory as a child. Ulysses, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. As the words cascaded, I stood transfixed, mesmerized by the the language, the story, the relevance to the present journey which we have all undertaken, and by Tony’s memory!
I thought that you might also enjoy these words at this pivotal moment in time, when we confront the journey which we are marching towards and the dark “Fourth Industrial Revolution” future which others seek to shape for us. Without further ado, here is Tennyson’s “Ulysses”.
Ulysses
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour'd of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,—
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
“Lies My Gov't Told Me: And the Better Future Coming” Now available on Amazon (hard copy to be shipped Dec 6, 2022)
Our ancestors had deeper insight into fate. Who among us who can see, even in limited way, knows where the vision comes from and why?
To be among this minority is both mysterious and a great privilege. That it is undeserved providence I have no doubt. That the sovereign plan will unfold I am certain.
On this thanksgiving day I give thanks for vision. For those who can communicate what they see with greater clarity. And for faith in the One who ordains all things, gives us a role to play, and offer’s eternal security in exchange for faith alone.
For another "take" on Ulysses, I refer you to the original: Homer's Odyssey, the best translation of which I have found to be Robert Fitzgerald's. Or, read my play "Penelope and Odysseus (A True Story?)." It is based on the human action underlying Homer's 3,000 year old classic, the Odyssey.
https://ernestdlieberman.substack.com/s/penelope-and-odysseus
Penelope and Odysseus survived and triumphed, realistically not supernaturally, as individuals and as a couple, with family and friends sticking by them, through all the travails they endured. Their mastery of so many things makes them heroes as modern as tomorrow.
The play is dramatic, suspenseful, romantic, thrilling, inspiring—and surprising whether you know the Odyssey or not.
Read and Imagine. Wonderful things are possible when people exercise the virtues revealed in the actions of Penelope, Odysseus, family, and true friends.