
As one of his twelve labors (his penance for killing his wife and family), Heracles journeyed to Lake Lerna in a chariot, taking with him his nephew and charioteer Iolaus, in search of the dreaded Hydra. When they finally reached the Hydras' hiding place, Heracles drew the monster from its hole with flaming arrows, which would have gotten my attention. Having brought the beast out of hiding, Heracles courageously attacked the beast, slashing at each head with his sword, (in some versions it was a scythe) but he soon realized that as one head was severed two others grew in its place. Heracles called for help from Iolaus, telling him to bring a flaming torch, and as Heracles cut off the heads one by one from the Hydra, Iolaus cauterized the open wounds with the torch preventing them from growing back - kind of like electrolysis. Eventually, with the help of Iolaus, Heracles removed all but one of the Hydras' heads. The one remaining head could not be harmed by any weapon, so, picking up his hefty club Heracles crushed it with one mighty blow, he then tore off the head with his bare hands and quickly buried it deep in the ground, placing a huge boulder on the top.
I know you are probably wondering what this all has to do with anything? Let me first explain that our myths form the basis of our culture and are used to communicate complex ideas and images, used as a basis for framing and understanding our experiences, and are used as springboards for new ideas. Thus, it is often a good exercise to review the myth or myths that are being invoked in order to sharpen that metaphorical tool. In this case I am preparing to offer a comparison between the mythical Hydra and my “to do” list – ah, now you see it, and are probably thinking, "Oh this again". OK, so I know I’ve been beating this drum a lot lately, but it is a valid analogy and it’s my blog anyway – so there!
I have been instructed, have accepted and am now in the habit of doing the next right thing - whether I want to do it or not (usually not). At issue is the fact that after you do the next right thing, there is always the one in the on-deck circle that becomes a new next right thing to do. They say (did you ever wonder who “they” were?) that no good deed goes unpunished – I heartily agree. Each time I accomplish one of the labors on my list of next right things, I am rewarded with two new tasks to perform, hence my musings on the mythical hydra. If I were a man of wealth, I would pay Kevin Sorbo handsomely to take care of the problem for me. He could shoot my "to do" list full of flaming arrows, slash it to pieces with a sword then rip it's spiral-bound head off with his bare hands, placing the whole mess under a large boulder or apartment block as a warning to anyone from Mead Corp. - such are my fantasies these days. I suppose that there's nothing wrong with putting one foot in front of the other and knocking items off the list one by one - at least it gives me something to do.
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