Ithaca

I'm sitting in McDonalds just checking my email for a bit before I get dinner at host-home and then go out. I just read the following poem, sent to me by my mom. This afternoon I remembered my last night at Tufts two months ago, and now that seems a million miles away because I feel so much more mature and alive and experienced and wise. I feel older. I don't know how to describe it. This is a really hard thing that I'm doing but it's exactly where I need to be right now, and it will lead me to the future, whatever it may be. Things change, but maybe not in the ways you expect them to--and maybe that's alright. There's a kind of comfort in that. I was going to write more, but this is all I want to say right now, because after reading that poem, all of a sudden I feel infinite.*


Ithaca

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.

Constantine P. Cavafy (1911)


* A reference to another book that meant more to me than I know how to express, lent to me last summer, when I needed it most, by the most important peson I've ever known. It was another occasion when I read exactly the right book at exactly the right time.