This is a copy of a speech that Marie K. Sienkewicz submitted into a competition for the 1999 Commencement Speeches at Bowdoin College in Brunswick, Maine. In the end, it was not among the ones chosen (although it did make it into the final round!). But, since this was written primarily for herself, as an attempt to formulate her feelings about Bowodoin and her experiences over the past four years, she felt that she still wanted to share these thoughts with family and friends.

Click here for a photograph of Marie at her graduation.
Click here for a photograph of Marie and her mother at her graduation.

Keeping Ithaka in Mind

President Edwards, Governor King, Members of the College, and Guests, I bid you welcome, and I ask you to spend a few moments, with me, contemplating something that has been much on my mind during this past year at Bowdoin. The Class of 2002, you see, began their first year at Bowdoin this fall by reading Robert Fagles' translation of the ancient Greek epic, The Odyssey. Now, of course, as someone with a life long enthusiasm for the Classics, I could not help but to be jealous. How fitting, I thought, to launch off one's college career, a time of such intense learning and experience, with Homer's timeless tale of the adventures of wily Odysseus. For a brief moment I wished that I was also among those first-year students, filled with aspirations and anticipations for the years to come. But only for a moment. I didn't need to start over my time at Bowdoin to experience my own year of The Odyssey. I would suggest that there is a certain affinity between first and senior year students. While first-years are opening the chapter of their Bowdoin career, seniors are drawing theirs to a close, but both
years share the same underlying prospective spirit, a preoccupation with determining the direction one's life should take. As I stand here at the next cross-roads in my life, enriched with the experience and knowledge that I have gained during my years at Bowdoin, and wondering what the future has in store for me, I have discovered a new understanding of the meaning of The Odyssey. It strikes me that when people think of The Odyssey, they have in mind a journey of epic proportions, filled with adventures and discoveries. And, especially, this idea is associated with the start of such a journey and the traveler's pyschological state of excitement, in anticipation of meeting the challenges that such a journey will bring. And, indeed, Homer's poem immerses us in the adventurous wanderings and the heroic deeds of Odysseus.  Several millennia later, people are still fascinated with the figure of Odysseus. Authors, such as the Greek Nikos Kazantzakis, with his epic poem entitled The Odyssey: The Modern Sequel, have found in Odysseus the ethos of the wandering soul, in tireless pursuit of new realms of experience. In Kazantzakis' view, Odysseus' journey should never end, because this would mean the finish of who Odysseus is. But in persisting on viewing The Odyssey as a tale of extended wanderings, it is easy to loose sight of the fact that Odysseus would not have made such a journey, and, thus, would never have met with such adventures, had he not had a  destination in mind. Yes, Odysseus had a goal, one that gave him the stamina to continue despite severe set-backs, during his most dire moments, and that also had the power to draw Odysseus back to his travels, even when he would have been content, for instance, to settle down with the alluring Kalypso. Always, throughout his wanderings, Odysseus has his sights set on his homeland of Ithaka. For ten yearrs he was gone fighting in the Trojan War. And for another ten years, the period encompassed within The Odyssey, he wanders the Mediterranean, besieged by vengeful gods, monsters, witches, and fickle winds. Eventually, much older, but wiser, he succeeds in reaching Ithaka.

Like Odysseus, our lives are driven by goals. The college years, especially, have gained a reputation as an invaluable time for working to gain the knowledge necessary for achieving one=s goals. When I first started at Bowdoin in the Fall of 1995, I had very specific plans. I would double major in biology and music. And then, after Bowdoin, I would go into veterinary medical school. Well, here I am, four years later, graduating as a Classics major. Next fall I will be starting work on a master's in library science. And I still want to go into veterinary medicine. Eventually. However, along with the organic chemistry, the calculus, the ancient Greek, the marine biology;   along with the knowledge I have gained about myself and about other people; along with the character that I have built from the long nights and the gallons of coffee; and along with some of the most rewarding (and some of the worst) experiences of my life, I think I walk away from Bowdoin having gained an important insight. William DeWitt Hyde, the Seventh President of Bowdoin, is known for expressing the "Offer of the College". He wrote in 1906 that the offer of the Bowdoin experience was "To be at home in all lands and all ages; to count Nature a familiar acquaintance, and Art an intimate friend; to carry the keys of the world's library in your pocket, and feel its resources behind you in whatever task you undertake; to make hosts of friends who are to be leaders in all walks of life; to lose yourself in generous enthusiasms and cooperate with others for common ends . . ." It is laudable to have goals, to have an idea of where you want your life to lead you. But, I firmly believe, it is even more important to reach your destination, enriched with the knowledge and understanding gained from delving into your "generous enthusiasms" and from having met the challenges encountered along the way. In closing I would like to share a poem with you, written by an author I learned about during my semester abroad in Athens, Greece. I address this poem, to you, my fellow classmates of the Class of 1999, and to all of you--President Edwards, Governor King, Members of the College, and Guests:

Ithaka
C.P. Cavafy

When you set out for Ithaka
pray that your road=s a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon--don't be scared of them:
you won't find things like that on your way
as long as your thoughts are exalted,
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 you,
unless your soul raises them up in front of you.

Pray that your road's a long one.
May there be many a summer morning when--
full of gratitude, full of joy--
you come into harbors seen for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading centers
and buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfumes of every kind,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
may you visit numerous Egyptian cities
to fill yourself with learning from the wise.

Keep Ithaka always in mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it goes on 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 hasn't anything else to give.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won't have fooled you.
Wise as you'll have become, and so experienced,
you'll have understood by then what an Ithaka means.