I have always felt that the problem with the message of the legend of Damocles is that really we all live our lives under the threat of violence, misfortune, and tragedy. It is not only those who are well off or in positions of authority. It is absurd to think that at any time during or after the period of this legend there has been a higher mortality rate/lower life expectancy among rulers than the average person in the area.
So instead of complaining or devising clever ways to make his courtiers look stupid, you'd think Dionysius, would just enjoy the things he had while he waited to be assassinated. Though maybe terrorizing his court was the way he did this, in which case, good for him, I suppose.
As I sit in my own palace this week, with the sharpened point of rejection hanging directly above my heart, I should apply the lesson of my own critique and not feel sorry for myself but recognize that really all my fellow beings are in something like the same scenario, and the way to expunge my dread is to course with them, shoulder to shoulder, on life's road.
But that is not what I am going to do. I am going to spend a lot of time in silent thought, remembering the times this has happened before. The feelings of those events will return to me, and I will chew on nothing as the bitter taste refills my mouth. I will draw sharp, rapid breaths as the crushing feeling returns to my chest. Pavlovian responses to the ringing bell of "I think we need to talk..."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment