To seek, to find, to design and not to yield.

Design Something Everyday 14/365

This was a design based on one of my favorite poems, Ulysses, by Alfred Lord Tennyson. The poem is very moving, and has the great hero Ulysses (Odysseus in Greek) at the end of his life feeling the urge to strive, explore and set sail once again. That is an urge we have and should cherish, that little voice that tells us there is still much more to see and do. It is a human quality that we need to heed, especially when our boat has waited to0 long in the harbor. Here’s the complete poem (don’t worry it’s in the public domain):

Ulysses
by Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match’d with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honoured of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers;
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this grey spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle —
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil’d, and wrought, and thought with me —
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads — you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew

Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Poem Source

Just for fun here’s a YouTube video of a performance of the poem:

Polyphemus Gives Odysseus’s Men a Hand

Design Something Everyday: 12/365

Here’s a little sketch for my design something every day project. Imagine yourself as one of clever Odysseus’ men in the cave of the Cyclops, and one-eyed Polyphemus, son of Poseidon, reaches down to devour you, or as Samuel Butler gruesomely put it in his translation:

The cruel wretch vouchsafed me not one word of answer, but with a sudden clutch he gripped up two of my men at once and dashed them down upon the ground as though they had been puppies. Their brains were shed upon the ground, and the earth was wet with their blood. Then he tore them limb from limb and supped upon them. He gobbled them up like a lion in the wilderness, flesh, bones, marrow, and entrails, without leaving anything uneaten.” — Homer, The Odyssey Book 9, trans. Samuel Butler.

Links:

The Odyssey, by Homer Translated by Samuel Butler via the Classics Archive at MIT.
Free online audio version of the Butler translation of They Odyssey at Librivox. Although it is great to read Homer, one should listen to a good reading of his epics. Considering that’s how most in the ancient world were exposed to them, I find it fun to listen to them being read. It makes me feel like I am walking in their shoes, er sandals.

Doodle of the Day for February 19, 2009

The witch Circe tempts the crew of wily Odysseus.

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Doodle of the Day for February 15, 2009

Helen of Troy and Menelaus reminisce about the golden age of heroes.

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Doodle of the Day for February 14, 2009

A moment of peace on the Island of the Cyclops. Before the dark times, before the coming of Odysseus. Polyphemus idyll.

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Doodle of the Day for February 10, 2009

Polyphemus has a late night snack, consisting of two slices of bread, mayo and the crew of clever Odysseus.

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Doodle of the Day for February 9, 2009

Odysseus hears the complaints of the dead while visiting the underworld to get directions. Elpenor let’s Odysseus know, in no uncertain terms, that he needs a proper burial, Odysseus is unmoved.

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O Devine Poesy…

Mosaic of the Muses, Roman Museum of Sabratha, Libya. by Sebastià Giralt

Make this site live for us in its many bearings, O Muse…

In the great book “The War of Art” by Steven Pressfield he details how he begins any creative venture by calling on the muses for success. He does this by reciting the opening lines from the T.E. Lawrence translation of The Odyssey; when Homer calls on the muses to speak through him and aid him in reciting the tale of the return of clever Odysseus to Ithaca. This seems like a good idea to me, especially for my first post. So here is my call on the nine muses for aid and inspiration for this blog, portfolio and podcast.

“O Divine Poesy, goddess, daughter of Zeus, sustain for me this song of the various-minded man, who, after he had plundered the innermost citadel of hallowed Troy, was made to stray grievously about the coasts of men, the sport of their customs, good and bad, while his heart, through all the seafaring, ached with an agony to redeem himself and bring his company safe home. Vain hope-for them. The fools! Their own witlessness cast them aside. To destroy for meat the oxen of the most exalted Sun, wherefore the Sun-god blotted out the day of their return. Make this tale live for us in all its many bearings, O Muse…”

- from the Odyssey, by Homer; Translated by T.E. Lawrence