#ithaka

[room-temperature-orange-juice]

“Men don’t cry”

WRONG

Odysseus cried every morning of his 7 year stay with Calypso. He sobbed on he beach for 2555 days in a row. Do you know how much of a commitment that is?

And do you know how MANLY Odysseus is? The man who was a soldier for ten years, killing for his family. The man who fought giants. The man with muscles so impressive the author had to describe his ‘boxers build’ and ‘rippling thighs’ constantly? The man who easily strung a bow with a 300 pound draw weight, then shot it perfectly? And then proceeded to easily slaughter 100+ grown men?

Never say men don’t cry. Be like Odysseus.

[pahatarcarabosse]

[ditoob]

This post by the wonderful @katerinaaqu has not left my brain and I just HAD to draw it.

[savi-of-ithaca]

JORGE MIGUEL RIVERA-HERRANS IS IN ODYSSEUS' PALACE AS WE SPEAK

[xoxo-rielle]

– C.P. Cavafy, An excerpt from Ithaka

[oflights]

Ithaka

As you set out for Ithaka hope your road is a long one, full of adventure, full of discovery. Laistrygonians, Cyclops, angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them: you’ll never find things like that on your way as long as you keep your thoughts raised high, as long as a rare excitement stirs your spirit and your body. Laistrygonians, Cyclops, wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them unless you bring them along inside your soul, unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one. May there be many summer mornings when, with what pleasure, what joy, you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time; may you stop at Phoenician trading stations to buy fine things, mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony, sensual perfume of every kind— as many sensual perfumes as you can; and may you visit many Egyptian cities to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind. Arriving there is what you’re destined for. But don’t hurry the journey at all. Better if it lasts for years, so you’re old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way, not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey. Without her you wouldn't have set out. She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you. Wise as you will have become, so full of experience, you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

C.P. Cavafy (translated by Edmund Keeley)

[anotherbookpile]

Ithaka

As you set out for Ithaka

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:

you’ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind—

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you’re destined for.

But don’t hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you’re old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

[quotesengage]

Ithaka

BY C. P. CAVAFY

As you set out for Ithaka

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:

you’ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind—

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you’re destined for.

But don’t hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you’re old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

[brilmans]

Een Pinctada uit Ithaki

Een pareloester (Pinctada imbricata).

Terwijl mijn zoon de huurboot met speels gemak naar een ankerplaats manoeuvreert, zoek ik alvast de duikbril en snorkel. Zodra het anker ligt, duik ik, nieuwsgierig naar wat de onderwaterwereld hier te bieden heeft, het water in. Zoals op bijna elke plek waar we voor anker zijn gegaan hoef ik niet mijn best te doen leuke kleurrijke vissen te spotten. Wat vissen betreft is het aanbod namelijk zeer divers.

Nadat ik een paar flinke slagen heb gemaakt, wordt mijn blik gevangen door een glinsterend object op de bodem. Het is weer zover!

Omdat ik het niet kan laten, duik ik, de afstand naar de bodem rijkelijk onderschattend, om het te pakken. Ik red het net. Met ploppende oren, een lichtelijk zuurstofgebrek en een schitterende schelp in mijn hand, haast ik mijzelf weer naar het oppervlak. Zodra mijn hoofd het water verlaat bekijk ik al happend naar adem de schelp. Het is een oesterachtige schelp met aan de binnenkant van de kleppen een oogstrelende laag parelmoer.

Na wat speurwerk op het wereldwijde web, weet ik dat het een pareloester is. Een soort uit het geslacht Pinctada. Zelf kom ik uit op Pinctada imbricata, maar dat is met een kleine slag om de arm.

Ik heb mijn best gedaan de iriserende pracht van de schep vast te leggen, maar dat is met mijn gebrekkige camera en geïmproviseerde buitenstudio niet te doen. Zodra ik klik ben ik zo goed als alle kleuren van de regenboog kwijt. Wat rest is de eigenlijke kleur van het parelmoer: een niet veel zeggend grijswit.

[quokaii7]

why’s the quick concept sketch still getting attention EVERYONE PLS LOOK AT THE BETTER VERSION ^_^

ody sketch

I’ll finish this later lol ( note this is for the 600 strike drawing everyone voted for so that's poseidon's trident )

[room-temperature-orange-juice]

“Telemachus is a sunshine boy!” Correct, but do you know why?

He could not afford an Emo phase, even if he wanted one.

If Telemachus showed up to his house one day with hair slightly over one eye, the suitors would call him cringe then kick the shit out of him.

Telemachus: huh, my hair’s long enough to cover one eye now.

Every single suitor in the palace: HAHADFJFC CRINGE EW CRINGEFAIL LOOSER L

[forislynx]

Han var två personer. Han var kroppen och röst, en levande mans enkla dragningskraft, och sedan den växande drömmen eller bilden skapad av en kvinna vid vävstolen, där hon sitter i en sal full av enkelt beskaffade män.

Louise Glück, Meadowlands (ur dikten Ithaka)

[ditoob]

Counsel to the Young Prince of Ithaka

“You see, Odysseus,” my grandfather shifted his weight on the unsteady branches of an old olive tree. We were far outside of the palace, away from the view of the royal guard and my father. He loved these places, trails that wouldn’t necessarily lead you anywhere in particular, and there were many in Ithaka, though it was a small island. He plucked a small bunch of olives from the branches, cupping them neatly in his hand as he came back down towards me. He passed me one — purple, soft and overripe. I grimaced as it fell on my hands, mother always said they were bad for you. “You wouldn’t eat one of those would you? They’re much too old now”, he dropped the rest of the purple olives on the grass.

“Oh don’t make that face!”, he said as he reached into his old leather bag, “Here! You’ll prefer this”. His arm outstretched toward me, holding an apple, an ugly, rotten thing. It seemed to crumble every time he swung his arms around to speak — which he always did. “Appearances are very important, young man, aren’t they?”, he said confidently, Grandpa Autolycus always knew what he spoke of, he had lived a life full of experience. “You wouldn’t eat this, would you?” he held it nearer to me. “No! Eww”, I grimaced, it smelled even worse than it looked. “But what if I…” he held my attention as he passed the rotten apple behind his back, from his right hand to his left, and out came a shining, almost golden, apple. They said it was his gift, as the son of lord Hermes.

“How did you do that!” I was shocked, my eyes filled with wonder at the gleaming fruit in front of me. It seemed to glow as the sun struck it through the leaves of the olive trees that surrounded us. It almost looked godly, like something Lady Athena or the mighty Lord Zeus would dine on. I inched ever closer towards it, its beauty mesmerizing me. The smell of rot and disgust hit my nose the moment the apple was up to my young face, and I darted back as the horrible stench approached me. “Appearances can be deceiving, wouldn’t you say?” he laughed as I attempted to get rid of the smell that had now plagued my nose and would disappointingly remain with me for the remainder of the day.

“But one can change their appearance” I saw the apple transform with a snap of his fingers, crumbling back into the rotten mess it was before “Even the mightiest of men can look poor and wretched if given enough practice. Even you, Odysseus!” He said as he ruffled my hair, laughing as the strands began to cover my gray eyes. In between laughs I stammered, “Stop!”. He managed to pick out some better olives, green ones, which we ate as we watched birds fly over Ithaka. I laid by him as Helios traveled below the Earth and night came. Nights were quiet in the island, only the sound of the crashing waves and the leaves of olive trees being rustled by the wind could be heard, perhaps the sound of a boar if you were unlucky.

“I taught Herakles how to wrestle, you know?” he laughed as he lifted me above his shoulders, “You’re lying!” I shouted with doubt as I laughed along. He stopped for a second, an almost imperceptible second, “I lie to everyone else, young man”, his face turned serious, “but not you. You’re too clever for that”. It was the first time he’d spoken to me without the hint of a chuckle in his voice. “Do not forget this, Odysseus. You are more clever than you know”. I did not understand him then –most of his words fell on attentive, but deaf ears— he spoke to me as though I were an older man, after all. A man such as he, bearded and full of experience. But I was not an old man like him, I was young, spry, and endlessly energetic. Though his words stuck with me even more than the scar that marks my thigh, and I would understand his counsel. 

As we reached the castle, and he ignited my imagination with tales of monsters and gods — how lord Hermes stole the cattle of great Apollo, or how Perseus slayed the terrifying Medusa — until I fell unconscious on his lap and Eurycleia lifted me to my bedchambers.

“He loves you more than anything else in Ithaka,” she said as she tucked me into bed, “You were named by him you know, not your father”. I had heard the story before, my father and Eurycleia had brought the young boy, the heir to the throne of Ithaka, to the lap of his grandfather. He looked at the boy with joy, his young, gray eyes reminding him of adventures of his past. Eurycleia recommended the name Polyaretos, “most wished”, she said with tears in her eyes, “we have prayed much for this young boy”. My father seemed pleased, though my grandfather disagreed. “Odysseus” he told him, “hated one, that shall be his name”. He did not laugh, Eurycleia maintains that she could see tears welling up in his eyes. My father was opposed to marking the next heir to the throne with such a bad omen, yet my grandfather persisted. “Give me this, young man” he said to King Laertes, “this boy will be far more than all of Ithaka, I will assure it”. He stood, holding the baby softly to his chest and walking towards the young king, “name him Odysseus”. 

No one is quite sure why I was called Odysseus, some don’t even believe it is of our native tongue. But it was important for my grandfather, regardless of what it meant for my future. I was important to him, perhaps he saw me as a second chance for the actions he regretted. “He was a haunted man” some would say, but they did not know the beaming, grinning Autolycus I knew. The old man who would run through the rocky hills of Ithaka with an infant on his shoulders who could not contain his excitement, or would involve his grandson in his many mischievous plans, to the delight of the young boy. He was a man who would do anything for his family.

I am older now, 22 years of age, expecting a young boy, Telemachos. I will do all I can to see him grow, to advise him and show him the beauty of our kingdom. I will be there for his first steps, for his first words, for the first time his beard begins to grow. He will be my pride, my joy, my world. I understand now, perhaps, why that young, gray-eyed boy meant so much to the old man.

-Odysseus, father of Telemachos

[baked-potatoes-rule]

Ithaka

As you set out for Ithaka

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:

you’ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind—

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you’re destined for.

But don’t hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you’re old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

C.P.Cavafy

[holy-mother-of-whumpers]

I also love to misspell Iliad and Odyssey names using letters closer to the Greek counterpart (for funsies, no actual reason except Troy that cannot be spoken in Italian without innuendos).

Elene instead of Helen, Ektor instead of Hector, Ilios instead of Troy... I love driving people mad.

It's fun! ✨It's free!✨ It serves no purpose except my wicked entertainment!✨

why is Ithaca spelled wrong in your username?

yeah! so I figured I'd get this question. so there isnt actually one agreed-upon English spelling of ithaka. the ancient greek spelling is Ιθάκη. In the fitzgerald translation of the odyssey, it's spelled ithaka, and Circe is spelled Kircê. But you're right, in the Emily Wilson translation, it's spelled Ithaca and Circe. So it varies from translation to translation. Because Emily Wilson's is the most recent (2018) her spellings tend to be used most commonly in non-academic contexts like Epic the Musical and the Song of Achilles. to be completely honest Odysseus of Ithaca was already taken so I picked a different spelling lol