'Oh
no, you've learned your lazy ways too well, you're got no itch to
stick to good hard work.'
A
line from Robert Fagles translation of The
Odyssey
that I never imagined I'd willingly stick to myself and not feel
affronted by as I would have done had someone else, as they do in The
Odyssey,
taunted me with it.
Odysseus,
however, is in disguise: in tattered rags, looking to all his
island's people (and princes) like a tramp or beggar, whereas I still
look like me to those that know me from way way back and know me
still, regardless of my well-worn clothing, but then I'm not assisted
(or thwarted) by immortal gods. That I know of; well, none have ever
put in an appearance, nor have I made offerings, though, to keep me
in their favour or to diminish any punishment.
I've
sometimes thought if such gods exist they smile upon me only when it
suits and frown when it doesn't, because like Zeus and Athena they
like to play: throw thunder bolts and storms as well as choice
rewards; yet at some point I must have also upset one with Posideon's
nature because there have been squalls.
A
god of Posideon's type is an easy one to blame for my now rather
negative view of work and change in attitude towards it, but I
haven't made any overtures to him so I can't really think that's the
case, as if I did then surely I'd be on my knees on a hill or cliff
somewhere pleading to the skies and seas, or scattering cereal and
proffering vegetables hoping these would substitute for the usual
goats, rams and bulls.
No,
it's entirely me, though not entirely unrelated to twists and turns,
though none of the sort Odysseus suffers – either at his own hands
(or his shipmates) or of the gods' making. But I did, last year,
return to a state I thought had left me, that I thought I'd already
transitioned through quite a few moons ago. Jobless (after
redundancy) nothing new, my reluctance in applying and my hesitancy
over vacancies however was. My confidence shaken (it hadn't been high
in my last position) and doubting if I wanted to once again make
myself fit or be re-recruited into office work, even voluntary.
I
stalled. I applied. I attended informal meetings and interviews. I
dithered, back and forth, back and forth. I was burned by some, got
no replies from others. Some I got a sniff of but which proved
slippery – employers and T&Cs of employment; others were so
slippery, I failed, despite heavenward eyes and ceiling-directed
prayers, to land them. I gave up, I persevered: onto to the next one,
I gave up again, I tried. My savings were on the downward slide.
So
what in the end did I do? Instead of doing what I should: retrain,
hone skills, re-jig again my CV, get a haircut, try out a new look
and at least make myself into someone that might be office right and
ready, or to at least feel better. Clothes and all that just don't do
it for me. I turned to Greek classics and poetry. Learning. Yep, I
stuck my head in a book. Correction,
lots of books. I found whole areas of libraries I hadn't visited
because I assumed epic poetry wasn't for me, not to read and enjoy.
And the Greek tragedies, less so. All those character and place names
and how to pronounce them.
Yet
to my surprise, I spent a blissful week with Homer's Odyssey
(all
twenty-four books in one volume), literally swept away, in spite of
detours to the notes and pronouncing glossary, and enjoying most of
all the recurrent passages. Those fixed and formulaic, frequently
repeated refrains and phrases were a joy to come across since they
made me feel that like Odysseus I'd been carried away on my own
journey of familiarity and awakening. Like the oral tradition when I
came to a repetition I paused in my reading as if like the performer
I was relishing the break to recollect the next part of the verse as
well as gather myself for the next twist in the tale. I took especial
delight in the rituals prior to dining: the rinsing of hands, the
serving of appetizers and bread, the drawing of a table towards a
guest, along with 'lustrous Calypso' and eagles as portents.
So,whilst
my job situation didn't improve, Pope (Alexander) was right when he
said: 'Homer makes us Hearers', because I found a skill I didn't know
I'd lost.
Picture credit: Christ in the Wilderness, the Eagles, Stanley Spencer
All posts published this year were penned during the last.
