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"There is no such thing as TMI"
THE DAILY ASTRONOMER
Tuesday, November 8, 2016
Damocles
I remember years ago on an election day which marked the end of another bitterly divisive campaign. (Yes, that's right: Bryan vs. McKinley.) Our highly formidable astronomical history professor, Dr. MacGregor, strode into the classroom with what I can only describe as his customary quiet magnificence. A swift and confident seven foot stride to match his looming height. A strangely youthful countenance in which were set two intensely blue eyes endowed with the powers of both deep discernment and rapid petrification. Compound these features with a stentorian voice that could have drawn a drooping fern to attention and the rigid posture of Donatello's David. One could then well understand how Professor MacGregor could have imprinted himself so forcefully into our minds that even now his memory apparition remains wholly undiminished.
"I trust you geniuses all have your syllabi?" he demanded, tossing his well worn satchel onto the table.
"Yes," we replied in unison. He smirked as he turned toward the projector, because he knew -as we all knew- that we had tossed the syllabus away after the second class because he was obviously not going to abide by it.
"Now, behold this! " he said, snapping on the projector as Natalie, a girl who sat in the corner, turned off the lights as she always did when the professor moved toward the projector.
"Would anybody care to identify this asterism?"
A voice from the back: "Orion's sword?"
"You're asking me a question, Mr. Olsen," Professor MacGregor said impatiently. "Either speak with unwavering confidence or remain silent. Try again."
"Orion's sword!" Jeff Olsen answered, his tone shifting from timid to angry.
"Splendid. Mr. Olsen. You're now speaking as Orion would have spoken had he been so pressed. Be sure to answer all your questions in life that way and you'll grow to love yourself." Ignoring the titters in the class room, Professor MacGregor turned to face the class. "Now, in most circumstances, we would regard this object as Orion's sword, but today, it is nothing of the sort."
What is it, then? I wondered.
"Well, Mr. Gleason, it is the Sword of Damocles."
How the hell did he do that?
"I used to study magic, Mr. Gleason." MacGregor said firmly. "Don't disappoint me with that incredulous expression. Think, instead, that perhaps you wear your thoughts on your face like a neon light and I can read expressions even in an unlit room because it is 11 a.m. on a Tuesday morning and you're sitting next to the window."
"Oh..."
"If thinking weren't painful, Mr. Gleason, everybody would be doing it."
Despite the November chill, at least my face wasn't cold anymore.
"The sword of Damocles dangles today from Orion's belt because today we are focused squarely on governance. The allure of political power, the desperation for its acquisition and the happiness that its attainment would impart on the chosen few who manage to win it for themselves. Or, so we think."
"Regard Dionysius II, a Greek politician who ruled Sicily between 367-357 BC. He seemed to possess all the traits we covet for ourselves: undiminished power, abundant wealth, and legions of admirers A king who sits confidently at the apex, displaced from the travails that beset us, the stresses that rudely awaken us and that worries that burden us. It must be said that he was not universally admired either in life or after death. Incidentally, if you are inclined to trudge through Dante's Inferno, you will encounter the same Dionysius in Canto 12, where he is boiling in pools of blood."
That certainly wasn't on the syllabus.
"These were the embittering ruminations that tormented Dionysius' courtier, Damocles. He could not help but envy Dionysius' immense good fortune. He was as rich as he was powerful. In equal measure feared and respected. Damocles realized that he, himself, was in a far lower order. In a moment of mad desperation, when he saw Dionysius napping on his throne while he, himself, labored, he shouted out, 'You don't know how lucky you are to be who you are!'
"This exclamation awakened Dionysius at once. Initially, Damocles was terrified, as he thought that his injudicious remark would be punished. Instead, much to his surprise, Dionysius arose from the throne and offered the shocked Damocles to take his place. Damocles could have hardly believed his luck. After all those years of coveting Dionysius' throne, he was suddenly invited to occupy it. He ran forth with alacrity and sat down. At once, he was surrounded by luxury, invested with power, and in complete command of Sicily. His servants were not only dutiful, but sycophantic. His subjects intimidated and every one of his whims would be satisfied at once.
"In short, he possessed all that he coveted except for one thing. Just above him was a sharp sword, hanging precariously by a single horse hair. Panicked, Damocles asked Dionysius why the sword had been so positioned. With a smile, Dionysius explained that the sword came with the throne. 'Those in whom great power is invested must live with the constant fear of removal. He who occupies the top lives with the knowledge that others strive to bring him down.
"Damocles tried to ignore the sword and instead focus on his riches and comforts. He soon found that he couldn't concentrate on that which he treasured because he was in constant fear for his own safety. He pleaded with Dionysius to release him and resume his command. Dionysius granted this wish at once, much to Damocles' profound relief."
Professor MacGregor then turned to Natalie, "Bring up the lights, please."
"Go home tonight. But, don't sit miserably before your televisions envying the powerful. Go outside and watch the Sword of Damocles rising in the eastern sky. It will serve as a reminder that those you perceive as pure are hardly untainted. Yours is a world in which even the beautiful often feel unsightly, the smart are anguished by their own stupidity, the empowered are anxious, the confident often unsure, the brave often fearful, and even the strongest of souls lapse into periods of lethargy.
"The sword's history lesson is simple: most people destroy themselves by presuming themselves to be weaker than they area in contrast to those who are just as beautifully imperfect and preciously mortal."