Listen to Ludwig Göransson’s “Odysseus” as you read this.
One man’s idea. One man’s trick.
The city of Troy fell as Odysseus schemed the Trojan horse. One man’s trick brought the downfall of a city blessed by the gods. A city protected by Apollo and Poseidon. A city, that perhaps, many thought would never fall. Yet when it did, it fell to one horse. No, rather one man. Odysseus.
The story of Odysseus is not one of triumph. It is not one emphasizing the cleverness of his trick or the foresight he perhaps had. It is one of hardship. Of struggle. Of guilt.
As I watched Nolan’s adaptation today, that one phrase has been ruminating in my head: “One man’s idea. One man’s trick.”
Odysseus says this as if it was only him who had killed the thousands of women and children in Troy. As if, the breaking of Zeus’s sacred law (the belief that war should be waged fairly) was a burden of his and his alone. That even as his crew bled out into the ocean, their own eagerness to hear the Siren’s song, slaughter Apollo’s cows, and eat Circe’s food, was the fault of his own. That it was one man’s idea. One man’s trick at the fault of it all. The ruin of Ithaca was Odysseus’s fault.
Most people hear this sentiment and question why Odysseus would ever believe the blame to be solely his when his soldiers eagerly pillaged. I could see the people in my theater shake their head as he muttered those words above. Why blame yourself as the leader when your followers are equally, if not more, complicit?
For some reason, my mind justifies his guilt because I too would feel the same way. Even today, I view the consequences of others as reflections of my own leadership before products of their individuality. I see their mindset as something I should have shaped, I should have improved. Their responsibility is mine.
I’ve felt this way for a long time. I remember in Ardenwood, I expanded my group through this same principle. I’d find kids crying in corners, outstretch my hand, and promise them that they were one of mine. That they wouldn’t be spending their lunches crying any longer. That if anybody did anything to them, they did something to me. I’d fight for them no matter what.
Then I grew up and nothing changed. Robotics. Rocketry. Basketball. Spamdemwood. Everyone that’s come to join our family. I made the choice that each of their burdens are mine. Each of their wars are mine. I want them all to be mine.
Over the last few years I’ve lost this fire to help these families because I’ve been focused on helping myself. But it’s time to go back. I’m ready to help them now.
The people closest to me have told me it’s not my responsibility to help them as it consumes me. And they’re right. But who would I be if I didn’t try? The same kid who runs every yellow light pushing the limits of the law, the same kid who pushes himself to reinvent himself, and the same kid who has the phrase “remember you must die” in is his bio, is too scared to try harder? When I said I wanted to live with no regrets, protecting the people I care about the most embodies my sentiment to the highest level.
Today I stare out the window of my car with my hair blowing in the wind, imagining myself to be Odysseus sitting on Calypso’s beach staring into the hopeless ocean. In his shoes, I find myself. His ambition. His morality.
I choose this path because this is my way of changing the world. Even in Ardenwood I watched as the people I stretched my hand too stretched their hands to others. Today spamdemwood is growing constantly out of this philosophy. So what if it consumes me? I’ve made the world a better place. But I know in my heart it won’t, because just as I stretched my hand out to others, I know they would do the same for me.
Odysseus made it home because he lived with the burdens of others. I want to do the same.