Ithaca

I think I make it pretty clear about my love for the written word.  I can't help it.  I've always been that way.  I remember spending my summers as a kid getting stacks of books at the library.  I would pile them high on my night stand and while away the hot California afternoons reading book after book after book.  I've always loved old books, too.  I remember in the first Sex and the City movie, Carrie is sitting in bed with Mr. Big, the ideal of domestic bliss - she with a book and he with a kindle or a newspaper or some such business, quietly engaging in comfortable silence.  He quips about the antiquity of her old library book, wondering aloud how a modern Manhattan woman still went to the library.  And, in a moment of character reveal, she lovingly fingers the pages, proclaiming that she loves the way old books smell.  I do, too.  I often imagine where the book has been, who has also opened its pages.  With old books, you feel like history is right in your hands and time has no measure. 

I read a poem in the beginning pages of the book The Zahir by Paulo Coelho.  While I wouldn't recommend it as Coelho's best - The Alchemist is a much more stunning, beautiful classic - I love this poem.  I think it's quite fitting these days, too.  

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 heart 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 never have 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 Cavafy (1863–1933)