"To invite the gods, ruins our relationship with them but sets history in motion. A life in which the gods are not invited isn't worth living. It will be quieter, but there won't be any stories. And you could suppose that these dangerous invitations were in fact contrived by the gods themselves, because gods get bored with men who have no stories."
-Roberto Calasso
"Le nozze di Cadmo e Armonia", 1933
Let us pretend for a moment that the gods are real. And simultaneously, let us also accept the notion that when one says that something is "meant to be", that we're not referring to destiny or of fate or of any god. Instead, lets shoulder the responsibility of deciding in what is (or is not) meant to be. Its up to us. Feel good? Of course, accepting such a responsibility leads to another - that of forcing or wrestling the chosen event into existence. This can take quite a bit of work and may mean lying, begging, bartering and cheating the affair into actuality.
I've let one of these decisions spin around in my mind, and it has taken very tight hold. Its nothing big, really. And its got very little to do with me. To the outsider, it would seem trivial. And that reminds me of an Andrew Wyeth story. When Andrew was a boy, his father,N.C Wyeth, prepared a drapery still life for him to draw. "You see the way this cloth is folded", his father said. "It has never been like this before. It will never be like this again. And that is just as relevant as the Napoleonic War." To the gods, nothing is trivial.
There is an pervading sense that I have unwittingly promised an event to the universe, to the gods. I have made my pledge, my oath, and there is no going back on it. Its not just a frivolous daydream anymore. I have, with unconscious deliberation, told this story to the gods seemingly countless times - they will see a moment wrought exclusively for them and they fully expect it of me now. It seems silly, I know, but I'm terrified of lacking the will or wit to "force the moment to its crisis". On the other hand, the sun is going to rise tomorrow and its not as though we have any choice in the matter.
-Roberto Calasso
"Le nozze di Cadmo e Armonia", 1933
Let us pretend for a moment that the gods are real. And simultaneously, let us also accept the notion that when one says that something is "meant to be", that we're not referring to destiny or of fate or of any god. Instead, lets shoulder the responsibility of deciding in what is (or is not) meant to be. Its up to us. Feel good? Of course, accepting such a responsibility leads to another - that of forcing or wrestling the chosen event into existence. This can take quite a bit of work and may mean lying, begging, bartering and cheating the affair into actuality.
I've let one of these decisions spin around in my mind, and it has taken very tight hold. Its nothing big, really. And its got very little to do with me. To the outsider, it would seem trivial. And that reminds me of an Andrew Wyeth story. When Andrew was a boy, his father,N.C Wyeth, prepared a drapery still life for him to draw. "You see the way this cloth is folded", his father said. "It has never been like this before. It will never be like this again. And that is just as relevant as the Napoleonic War." To the gods, nothing is trivial.
There is an pervading sense that I have unwittingly promised an event to the universe, to the gods. I have made my pledge, my oath, and there is no going back on it. Its not just a frivolous daydream anymore. I have, with unconscious deliberation, told this story to the gods seemingly countless times - they will see a moment wrought exclusively for them and they fully expect it of me now. It seems silly, I know, but I'm terrified of lacking the will or wit to "force the moment to its crisis". On the other hand, the sun is going to rise tomorrow and its not as though we have any choice in the matter.
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