See that? That's a violet-green swallow.
See that? I just lied to you. That's not actually a violet-green swallow. That's a photo of a sign in Bandelier that shows what a violet-green swallow kind of looks like if you're looking at an outline of a bird that, in real life, has violet and green feathers on its back, a white belly, and black feathers everywhere else. The actual bird bears no resemblance whatsoever to that sign.
This is not me maligning Bandelier sign makers: This is me grousing about my life, which, day before yesterday, was too much like a photo of a sign of a violet-green swallow when all I wanted was for my life to be a violet-green swallow.
As soon as I realized that my life was less like a violet-green swallow than it was like a photo of a sign of a violet-green swallow, I started to think about Odysseus. You remember Odysseus from The Odyssey and The Illiad, right? Of course you do. He was that clever Greek hero--called Ulysses by the Romans--who went off to fight the Trojan war and then spent ten years trying to get home.
Do you remember the scene in The Odyssey where he and his crew have to go past the Sirens, the two creatures who live on an island and who sing so sweetly that they lure passers-by to their deaths? He's been warned of them by Circe, who also instructs him as to how to advance past them unharmed by stuffing wax into his crews ears so that they can't hear the Sirens singing.
Instead, the Sirens' clear-toned song
will captivate his heart. They'll be sitting
in a meadow, surrounded by a pile,
a massive heap, of rotting human bones
encased in shriveled skin. Row on past them.
...
But if you're keen to hear them,
make your crew tie you down in your swift ship.
Stand there with hands and feet lashed to the mast.
They must attach the rope ends there as well.
Then you can hear both Sirens as they sing.
You'll enjoy their song.
--Circe’s advice to Odysseus
Day before yesterday was a hard day to row. No, it wasn’t me doing the rowing. I wasn’t rowing because I was tied to the mast of the ship. I was tied to the mast of the ship because wanted to listen to the sirens’ song.
It’s a perverse desire, perverse and irresistible.
She told me first of all
we should guard against the wondrous voices
of the Sirens in their flowery meadows.
She said I alone should listen to them.
But you must tie me down with cruel bonds,
so I stay where I am and cannot move,
standing upright at the mast.
--Odysseus’s instructions to his crew
Yesterday I had to remember that my journey doesn’t--won’t--include certain events. Those events call to me like the sirens called to Odysseus. Like Odysseus, I can hear them--I want to hear them--and sometimes I want to go to them, but I can't. Going to them would be mistaking a photo of a sign of a violet-green swallow for an actual living, breathing violet-green swallow.
The voice that reached me was so fine
my heart longed to listen. I told my crew
to set me free, sent them clear signals...
But they fell to the oars
and rowed ahead.
--Odysseus describes hearing the Sirens
What did they say to him? What do they say to me?
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