do you know the story of ernest shackleton and the trans-antarctica expedition?
you can read a condensed but accurate version at www.coolantarctica.com. as the webmaster Paul Ward correctly says at the beginning, it is “one of the most incredible adventure stories of all time.”
i bring it up because…oh jeez i don’t even know how to put it. the cosmos brought a piece of it into my life. and the cosmos will require me to sell it. but first i was required to understand it. it should be in a museum, perhaps. but the important thing to me is the utter STRENGTH and DETERMINATION that mortal men could have. believe me the ship Endurance was named correctly. even though she did not endure, the men who shared her story DEFINE the word endurance.
a brilliant but brittle poet wrote a great poem about the disintegration of…society?…culture?…belonging, perhaps. i re-read the poem again tonight for the first time in decades. i was brought to it by the story of shackleton and the endurance. part of their story was so striking and powerful that it worked its way into the poem.
“Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
—But who is that on the other side of you?”
in actuality shackleton and his two colleagues thought there was a fourth. thought it strongly enough that they walked with the fourth and they lived. the brilliant poet though, perhaps did not really believe it. he sensed the importance but dismissed it i think. thought it false hope. thought it a dream invented. followed it with visions of falling towers and collapsing cities.
you don’t even have to read the poem to know what he really thought. he didn’t think anything walked with you. just read the preface. if you’re tonya’s friend c.m. then you’re smart enough already to know i mean ts eliot and you’re learned enough to translate the latin and greek.
here’s my translation
I myself saw the Sibyl of Cumae, with my own eyes, hanging in a jar. And when the boys said to her, “Sibyl, what do YOU want?,” she answered, “I want to die.”
poor Sibyl. she knew everything. knew the savior was coming. now she’s a tourist attraction on route 66 in nero’s rome. and she wants to die. and the brittle poet so learned so empathetic so knowledgeable so full of intelligence agrees. he gets it.
FUCK HIM AND FUCK HER. they’re both dead now and GOOD FOR THEM.
i had someone else die recently (? I guess it was recent. it’s no guess that she’s dead) who was a big part of my life. i don’t know exactly when and i don’t know exactly how. and i know her family disapproved and i would bet my very self and soul that she died by her own hand.
she helped save my life. i miss her. i thank her for all she did. i get her pain. but FUCK HER TOO.
that’s why the cosmos gave me SHACKLETON.
that’s why they gave me something that brought me to Able Seaman Thomas Frank McLeod.
he lived through the experience that was the trans-antarctica expedition and then went BACK with shackleton on the next trip, on the Quest. he’d have eaten eliot for lunch. the powers that run the universe brought his attitude into MY hands. today. they made me get it. TODAY.
these people who want to die fuck them let them die
pussies
i will have to be dragged screaming. i will fight to live to be to feel to learn to exist to DO. to lose if need be. to fail and succeed and know and forget and ALL OF IT EVERY GODDAMN BIT I CAN WITH EVERY SECOND I HAVE LEFT TO ME. and i will fight for ONE MORE SECOND and one more after that.
i take able seaman thomas mcleod over the sibyl of cumae. every fuckin’ time.
there’s a story how shackleton advertised for crew. it’s apocryphal. melanie and sydney if you’re reading this and don’t know the word, your grandfather (your dad’s dad) would have told me “look it up,” but, to simplify a bit, it means it’s FAKE and it never really happened. but it should have. the story goes that the ad read:
“MEN WANTED: FOR HAZARDOUS JOURNEY. SMALL WAGES, BITTER COLD, LONG MONTHS OF COMPLETE DARKNESS, CONSTANT DANGER, SAFE RETURN DOUBTFUL. HONOUR AND RECOGNITION IN CASE OF SUCCESS.”
that’s life. it’s how it works. it’s difficult. dangerous. doubtful.
fight for it. it’s worth it. do the difficult thing always because, unfortunately, it’s ALWAYS the right thing. i don’t know why. i just know it is.
it’s 94 years later. or 95. or 93. that’s how long Able Seaman Thomas McLeod of Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides Islands, Scotland struggled on this one small piece of his 91 year long life. and i suppose there’s some asshole out there who would point out that McLeod and colleagues failed and did not succeed. that asshole would be wrong. he succeeded. and he has earned “Honour And Recognition.”
thank you to whatever force put his story into my hands tonight.
