We Are Living History

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Nike (Victory) of Samothrace

We go to school, we learn history. Why?

History teaches us. It teaches us through exemplary actions, through actions to be avoided, through patterns that have already existed and that we can recognize today.

In a classroom, students have the chance to discuss and comment on what prominent men and women did in their time; what circumstances favored or hurt a situation, a cause, a group of people. They can reflect on actions, motives, handlings. They can get acquainted with difference and appreciate it; develop a selective filter, learn to recreate their present based on past experiences.

This teaching also occurs on an everyday basis, through social commentary – which is not to be confused with ‘gossip’. Besides informing us about the latest moves of people around us, it helps us interact, form and express opinions on the trends, actions, ideas, behaviors that we notice.

History studies the past, social commentary studies the present. They seem somewhat different, but in essence they have much in common.

Time has a strange effect: by creating a distance, it may strip people of past ages off their real existence. But the truth is that they lived too — they breathed; they felt hunger; perhaps they loved; they took a close or more remote, indirect part in the events and phenomena of their era. Just think about it — if humanity survives (will it?), then in 100, 200 years’ time we will also be simple mentions in books, movies or documentaries examining the past (our present).

Whatever we do, whatever we say, whomever we influence – it leaves an imprint on the memory and, what’s more, on the reality which is constantly born, renewed, fermented.

So, stop for a minute and do a little mental exercise: project yourself in time. Where would you want your actions to lead your fellowmen? Supposing you would live a century from now: how would you ‘view’ yourself within the context of the historical reality of your epoch?

This planet is the boat; humanity is on a journey. We should act accordingly. Row, take a bucket and start emptying waters – whatever.

We all belong to a certain community – the US, Canada, Australia, Europe – of the early 21st century. We rely on a certain background, we are caught in circumstances perhaps created even before we were born, and we are called to act upon them.  I’m Greek.

Right now, Greece is sliding towards an imminent bankruptcy, tangled in the nets of international bank cartels, the indignity of demagogue politicians and its own folly in not seeing the truth years ago. What will the Greeks do?

What will all those who, unknowingly or not wanting to admit it even to themselves, are facing or will soon face similar problems do? Might that be USA, Canada or Australia? If not today, then in a few decades? If not you, then your children or grandchildren?

When a handful of people were talking a few years ago, the smashing majority of Greeks were laughing. Who’s laughing now?

I think the whole world is acting on models and patterns that are not quite healthy. We are not simple spectators of History; we are actors in it. Don’t you think we should all ponder a little on which exactly our role is?

The Three Little Wolves and the Big Bad Pig (Part 2 of 2)

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Three Little Wolves & Big Bad Pig

When adults review children’s books, they usually don’t have a clue.

Of course, we know that fairy tales provide models helping children adopt roles and assimilate behaviors. And we know very well that our sons and daughters go around in a world where they will often have to defend themselves; and they will have to throw their big bad persecutor into the metaphorical burning fireplace or boiling dixie – no wavering. Real world, hello!

Only, there are way too many fairy tales with little heroes triumphing over dangerous stalkers and precarious circumstances. The Three Little Wolves do not intend to cancel the teachings that can be drawn from classic fairy tales. The Three Little Wolves and the Big Bad Pig is a door that pops open into a less-visited room.

And there we see furious readers, shuddering at the lesson this book delivers – for, they say, it leaves our children defenseless faced with life’s dismal reality. We’re not supposed to endorse the view, they claim, that violence can be dealt with kindness and love, because we end up raising a generation of victims. The bullies will be the only ones to rejoice at the spreading of this message, because they are not going to alter their aggressive behavior – while our children will be unprepared to respond to meanness and offense.

How about letting our children know that there are options? Where exactly do imagination and flexibility fit into their lives? What does the fairy tale say, essentially?

The Big Bad Pig is ready to blow down the little wolves’ newest refuge; he inhales deeply, filling his lungs with air… scented with the sweet fragrance of flowers. His blood is instantaneously suffused with the flower power: it nurtures his body, it possesses him; he becomes one with it. And all that absurd hunt comes to an end, because the pig is not bad anymore – it is transmuted.

Besides being a prolific, multi-awarded writer of children’s literature (more than a hundred books by 2011, while the Big Bad Pig is translated in at least 15 languages), Eugene Trivizas is a sociologist, specializing in the field of Criminology (PhD) and the sociology of deviance. He has had his share of criminals to deal with, directly or indirectly. And he has come to this conclusion:

Love has to be experienced, before it can be returned to the world. Inhale, exhale. Can it get simpler than that?

The Three Little Wolves and the Big Bad Pig (Part 1 of 2)

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I asked my daughter the other day, “Which fairy tale did you like most when you were younger?”

With the mature and sophisticated air of a high schooler, she replied, “Why, you know? I just loved The Three Little Wolves and the Big Bad Pig.”

Trivizas, The Big Bad Pig

The Big Bad Pig

I admittedly expected a more classic one – yet, I couldn’t help but smile at recalling the book. It was fun, indeed.

“Which parts did you especially enjoy?” I insisted. I was fishing ideas for something to write about.

When kids (sorry, teens) are in good spirits – and, often, even when they’re not – they will readily expound their views on favorite topics.

“Well, first of all the little wolves were really nice, and they were happy living together with their mom, and they had a good time painting her fingernails and stuff” (okay, this last one she made up, probably because she’s such a coquette, but I guess we could expand on the story)

“and then their mom died,” she laughed at her little insolence, “that was a good part too,” (why, thanks sweetie!)

“and they inherited the house” (that’s not exactly how it happened, the wolves in fact set out to build their own home, but I didn’t interfere with her little fantasies).

Then the Big Bad Pig got in the picture. A horrible guy – and, yes, a very big one too. He was mean. He pursued the poor little wolves with unprovoked obstinacy – just because he could, he would. A classic bully, you know the kind. Or, I hope you don’t.

Initially, the little wolves thought they could resist him by building ever more sturdy houses, where they hid each time they saw him approaching. But the Big Bad Pig would hammer down, demolish, and blast every one of their supposedly impenetrable and super-safe shelters. The last time, indeed, the three little wolves “just managed to escape with their fluffy tails scorched.”

This was a nightmare and the little wolves had exhausted all their defense plans. “Something must be wrong with our building materials,” they said. “We have to try something different. But what?”

You wouldn’t imagine – and neither would the Pig. Because the wolves built their new home with… daffodils, pink roses, daisies, and all kinds of delicate and fragrant blossoms. Pure flower-power, it was. They settled in and made themselves cozy. Then the Big Bad Pig showed up. (Okay, if you want to know what happened, or to enjoy Helen Oxenbury’s lively drawings, I really suggest you check out the book.)

Should we believe that every bad-a** bully in the world can be transformed through kindness and love? I don’t believe this is the message that Eugene Trivizas, the writer of The Three Little Wolves, is trying to communicate through his imaginative, playful adaptation of this classic fairy tale.

Kids know best, and my daughter still likes the story. I do too.

(to be continued)

Odyssey: A Tale of Homecoming

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Odysseus and Calypso

Among the first pieces of Greek literature, known and studied throughout the globe, is the famous epic of Odyssey.

The Odyssey is a 12,110-verse poem, reciting the adventures of King Odysseus of Ithaca, a soldier and a mariner in ancient Greece. The action is supposed to have taken place in the 12th century BC (Mycenaean Greece), perhaps carrying cultural and historical elements from even earlier times, while Homer, the poet of the Iliad and the Odyssey, lived during the 8th century BC.

The thing to retain here is that the Greek hero, after his expedition to Asia Minor and the sack of Troy, set sail for his island kingdom in the Ionian Sea, Western Greece. But the standards of navigation back in those days were, if not rudimentary, yet quite insecure and trying. A marine journey like the one ventured by Odysseus was long and perilous, very different from what a modern traveller would normally expect to experience.

Odysseus wandered on the seas, met with perils, monsters and deceptions, before he was finally able to fulfil his destiny and reach home, where his beloved (and loving) family awaited him for twenty years.

There was a time when Odysseus almost became god. The marine Nymph Calypso fell in love with him, after he drifted on her remote island as a castaway. She kept him there despite his own will, out of sight for the rest of the world, for seven years (actually, Calypso’s name comes from the verb “kalypt-o”, meaning “to cover, to hide”) and proposed to keep him forever as her husband, after making him immortal like her.

But he wouldn’t stay. He had a home to come back to and he had made up his mind: either he’d see smoke rising from his island’s hearths or he’d die trying.

Fixing the World into Words

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Joseph, Overseer of Pharaoh's Granaries

There are timeless stories, speaking of Man’s truth. For thousands of years, story-tellers recited them to fascinated audiences, until their stories reached us and vibrated within our souls. Because, deep inside, we recognize ourselves in them.

Then, writing was invented to help people serve their needs. Scribes kept their notebooks and registered the practical details of life. Their scripts helped shape realities according to their observations and to the wishes of their masters.

Some time later, scribes came up with the idea that, apart from catalogues, inventories and messages, they could pin down dreams and tales with these chains of signs they carved, painted or impressed on various types of surfaces.

Those who knew how to read saw words unfolding and coming alive, breathing and palpitating, seducing them into other dimensions, every bit as authentic as the reality they perceived with their material eyes.

It was magical.