I keep thinking about the Sirens from Homer’s The Odyssey. Hollywood and fantasy books paint the Sirens as beautiful monsters who lure men to their deaths with pretty faces and melodious songs. But in the original Greek, the Sirens are grotesque bird-women with human heads. And rather than singing like Ariel from The Little Mermaid, the Sirens sang about knowledge.
They said, “Come closer, famous Odysseus … No one sails past this place in his black ship until he has listened to the honey-sweet voice from our mouths. Then he goes on his way delighted, knowing more than he did before. For we know all the suffering that the Argives and Trojans endured in the broad realm of Troy by the will of the gods, and we know everything that happens upon the fertile earth.”
For the sailors who sit on the shore listening to the endless stream of knowledge, they forget about their families, abandon their duties, and absorb as much information as possible until they starve to death among the rotting bones of previous victims. The myth isn’t saying knowledge is evil – Odysseus listens, after all – it’s warning about the desire to seek absolute god-like knowledge. It’s warning there’s an all-consuming nature to information, and it’s important to temper that desire with restraint.
What the sirens used to look like. Painting by Viktor Vasnetsov. “Sirin and Alkonost,” 1896
At first, the myth may seem antiquated, but when you dig a little deeper, it has relevance to today. The 24-hour news cycle, anyone? How about endlessly scrolling on social media? The news promises to keep you informed, aware, educated. Social media creates a feeling that there’s always something “happening” online that you can plug into any minute. Always another laugh to be had, a recipe to try, a lifehack to learn, while also doing the same thing the news does because how many people learn news through social media? (The answer: a lot.)
Both the news and social media target our deep-seated anxieties, ego, and desire to know what will happen next. I’d say AI is similar because it seems to promise, “I know everything that happens upon the fertile earth,” just like the Sirens.
What we all know, what is repeatedly drummed into us, is that if we stay glued to our screens and feeds, it’s paralyzing. It creates anxiety, draws focus, and pulls us from the life in front of us. I, personally, don’t have a problem with doomscrolling. I’m able to metaphorically stuff wax in my ears by not checking social media all day long. The temptation that is more alluring for me is the promise that someone can tell me the future.
I know I’m not alone in this. I just watched a TV show where one of the characters went to a tarot card reader and asked her to keep pulling cards until she received the answer she wanted about her future. I laughed because while I haven’t done that myself, I recognized the desire. I want to know the future so badly. A part of me thinks if I just know what will happen, then I can feel safe, happy, and secure in the present.
The last year and a half has been a painful reminder that I don’t know the future, I can’t predict the future, and no one else can either. And the tools I thought did those things? The tarot cards and pendulums and I Ching? They are meant to induce self-knowledge, not knowledge of the future. When my pendulum says, “Yes,” in answer to the question, “Will I win that contest?” it’s revealing how much I want to win that contest, not that I actually will. (I mean, maybe I will, but the pendulum can’t know that.)
What I’m learning is something civilization has been grappling with for centuries – the desire to know everything, including the future, only drives people mad. And the solution is something we’ve been hearing for centuries, too: be present with the life you have.
I dream of a world where we understand the desire to know everything exists in various forms. A world where we recognize that intellectual temptation is a trap and can paralyze us. A world where we realize the ancient myths still have relevance for us today.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I had an interesting experience on Friday. I walked by the yoga studio where I used to host a weekly group meditation prior to the pandemic. I discovered the building is no longer safe to enter and has been stripped to its studs! I don’t know if they’re renovating the building or tearing it down, but regardless, I likely won’t be in that yoga studio again because someone in my community has an office space we’ll be able to use for free when meeting in person resumes.
I mention all this because passing by the yoga studio had me reflect on what it now turns out is the very last time I was in that space. It was March 2020 and I waffled about whether to host a group meditation that night. The pandemic was just getting started and we thought Covid was spread via touch. I wasn’t sure whether to proceed or not because I didn’t want anyone to catch the virus, and at the same time I felt a nudge to host.
In the end, I said, “Let’s do it” and brought alcohol swabs to wipe down every surface. No one attended the group meditation and instead of shrugging my shoulders and leaving, I decided to go through with the routine anyway. I meditated with myself and whatever ethereal spirits were in attendance, and walked home, still unsure if I had made a good decision.
As if in answer to that question, when I rounded the corner from the yoga studio, I spotted the rainbow pictured below.
I’m so glad I recorded this moment.
Even at the time, I laughed and texted my family, telling them I was glad I went, that it felt like the universe affirmed my decision. Now I’m doubly glad because that day in March 2020 was my chance to say goodbye to a space I’d used weekly for years, a space where I met new people, strengthened existing bonds, and supported spiritual development.
My experience from Friday reminds me that love knows. The cosmic intelligence that’s at play in the universe knows everything, knows what I need and want before I need or want it. Love knew I wouldn’t be at that yoga studio again and needed a proper goodbye. Nor is this experience with the yoga studio an isolated incident. This has happened to me before in myriad ways – not only with saying goodbye, but also calling someone just as they needed it, or opening a book to the exact page that provided solace I sought, etc. Love knows and love always knows.
My spiritual teacher says, “The Macro-psychic Entity is omniscient … There is no special endeavor, and no necessity for special effort, to know anything, because all things are within Him and all are within His ectoplasmic dispersion …. Everything is His internal mental projection, intra-psychic projection. That is why He knows everything and will always know everything.”
The Divine Beloved knows everything and will always know everything. There’s relief in that and also a sweetness. I don’t have to know everything; I don’t have to figure everything out because there’s an entity that already does all that. And that entity is guiding me, letting me know for instance when I should visit a yoga studio for an unbeknownst-to-me goodbye.
I dream of a world where we recognize there’s a divine intelligence at play in the universe that knows everything. A world where we understand that omniscient entity guides us, loves us, and shows us our next steps. A world where we realize love knows and always will.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Something strange happened to me on Thursday. In the afternoon I heard a helicopter circling and peered out my window to identify its location. When I looked out my bedroom window, I spotted not only the helicopter above me, but also a swarm of police cars on the street behind my house. I’m on a hill so the cars were not directly behind me but I could still see them.
I jumped on Twitter and used all the hashtags that came to mind to determine why police cars and a helicopter parked near my house. I googled local news and even called the police nonemergency number. After waiting on hold for nearly 10 minutes I hung up. I couldn’t find an answer to my question. I thought about walking up to a police officer and asking about the fuss, but then I questioned that. “Do you really need to know? Maybe it’s better if you don’t.”
Does this person need to know what they’re walking on or is it better if they don’t, being a sewer and all? Photo by Warren Wong on Unsplash
Confession, although I suspect you already guessed this about me, I don’t watch true crime. I’m not a Law and Order junkie, or a CSI fanatic. I don’t enjoy murders and murder mysteries because I’m too sensitive. That means my brain doesn’t come up with gruesome scenarios, and let’s be honest, reality is much grimmer than my personal imagination. Some of the things people do to one another would never occur to me. But if there are police cars and a helicopter involved, the situation is probably not because someone accumulated parking tickets. Do I need to know that person lives nearby? I do not. (Note: If your google search is more fruitful than mine, please don’t tell me why the police visited my neighborhood unless it is for something innocuous like littering.)
This perspective is a huge shift for me because I want to know everything. My brain tells me I’ll be safer if I know all the details. But is that really true? Does knowing about a murder in Omaha make me safer here in Oakland? Or does it only succeed in making me scared to go to Omaha? All weekend I’ve wrestled with this, itching to check Twitter to find out what happened on Thursday. I resist because once I learn something, that information cannot be unlearned. It’s like trying to suck toothpaste back into a tube.
What also comes to mind is the converse of what I’ve shared: If I need to know something, I will. My higher power will arrange things so I find out information. I’ll run into someone at a party, I’ll overhear a conversation on the street, etc. I searched for a quote here from my spiritual teacher to throw in and came across this one: “[T]he source of physical knowledge is bound up by time, space, and person. With the change of time, space, and person, physical knowledge will change. Hence it is not a permanent knowledge.”
I derive comfort from that quote because it means even if someone awful lives behind me now, it doesn’t mean they always will. Maybe knowledge, like safety, is a snapshot in time. And if it’s a snapshot in time, what’s the point in scaring myself right now?
I dream of a world where we recognize sometimes it’s better to stay in the dark. A world where we realize if we’re meant to know something, we will. A world where we understand sometimes we don’t need to know.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
My therapist said something to me this week that I’d heard before but this time I really heard. He told me, “There are some things you don’t need to know.” I’m a curious person and want to know everything. That curiosity is a key component of being a journalist. It’s a journalist’s job to find out as much as possible about a story. However, truly, there are some things we don’t need to know.
I think we understand this in the context of children. Children are not served by hearing the full details of scary or complex things. We don’t tell them graphic details of war or rape. We may paint with broad brushstrokes or present information in a way they understand, but children don’t need to know everything.
I know these are the “evil” monkeys, but they work well with knowledge too. Photo by Joao Tzanno on Unsplash.
In many spiritual traditions, God or higher power or the divine is parentified. We are usually called divine children of God or a variation of that, and so it follows that perhaps higher power treats us the same way a parent would, as in the universe shields us from information. I’ve said before if I knew all the things the universe had in store for me I would get overwhelmed. That continues to be true. After contemplating I don’t need to know everything about the future, I feel more at ease. I feel more at peace. I feel more trust that it’s not my job to gather as much information as possible and strategize regarding all the scenarios.
We have the saying, “Ignorance is bliss.” I usually think about that expression with wistfulness, wishing I could go back in time and remain ignorant to bad news. Or I utter it with envy, wishing I could be like someone else who doesn’t know what I know. However, maybe I can continue to experience bliss in the form of ignorance by remembering I don’t have to answer every question; that I don’t have to know what will happen next. Maybe it’s OK for me to be in the dark sometimes and trust it’s for a good reason. Maybe I can relax into the knowledge I am still a child and there is still a parent taking care of me. Not my birth parents, although them too, but also an unseen parent, a mystical parent.
My spiritual teacher says it is the duty of the Cosmic Consciousness to look after us, the divine children. He also said this Cosmic Consciousness will do whatever is best for us, that our needs and necessities are better known by this divine energy.
“A child of two months does not know what she requires; her mother knows,” he wrote. “She is solely dependent upon her mother. Similarly, devotees are solely dependent on the Cosmic Father, and for that reason the Cosmic Father has a special responsibility.”
For today anyway, I’m feeling into that more, letting myself be a child. Letting myself swim in ignorance, recognizing the bliss that comes with it. I’m remembering I don’t need to know everything and also that I’m dependent on a power greater than myself that is taking care of me.
I dream of a world where we realize sometimes it’s OK to be in the dark. A world where we understand we don’t need to know everything. A world where we realize there is a force greater than us in the world and that force is here, acting as our parent.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.