So, Odysseus. Specifically the trial in Book 12 most folks—or many, at least—remember: Skylla or Kharybdis, 6-headed monster or whirlpool. As captain, and as king, Odysseus commands, hoping to get home safely to Ithaca.
Fortunately and unfortunately, he has been forewarned of these threats. The burden of authority is his, to accept the loss of brave and loyal followers rather than destroy the ship and lose all hands on board.
In the moment of truth, Odysseus, ordering the helmsman to obey unflinchingly, sets the course closer to the headland where Skylla awaits. Ignorant of what is ahead, the men bend to the task, rowing with all their strength.
The whirlpool avoided, but Skylla attacked. The loss, six of his best. Odysseus must endure the sight of his loyal followers writhing in the air, screaming out his name in their agony. He hears them being eaten alive.
For him, the worst moment of his command on the sea. But, he saved the ship.
Why this passage comes to mind now, perhaps is too obvious. Or too remote. The burden of command….
Political executives, business managers, hospital administrators, school superintendents, shopkeepers, the young, parents, grandparents, and, of course, you and me.
What all of us lack is to know the either/ors in full measure, the probabilities, the outcomes, and yet choices are being made.
Some decisions may be foolhardy, some may be spot-on. After the facts settle, with so many yapping about how and what and when—well, some will be correct. How many will go the told-you-so route, I don’t know.
That sentiment guides me now, paradoxically perhaps. I just don’t know.
To offer up an I-don’t-know card may seem feeble, even cowardly, but I steer my boat as best I can, in the dark, hoping not too be fooled by a siren’s song.
Be well.
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