I was reading a poem this morning, entitled The Epic of Gilgamesh. Written nearly four thousand years ago, it’s teachings are still relevant today – timeless in their ability to remind us of just what it means to be human.

“Gilgamesh, whither are you wandering? Life, which you look for, you will never find.”

The story begins with an introduction to Gilgamesh, the King of Uruk – born two-thirds god, and one third man. As a ruler, Gilgamesh was an invincible tyrant – cruel beyond all measure. He lorded over his subjects, causing them insufferable hardship and pain.

When the gods learned of his subjects’ pleadings, they created the wild man, Enkidu – perhaps, in hopes of keeping the mighty Gilgamesh ‘in check.’

Outraged by these stories of savagery and excess, Enkidu travels to Uruk to challenge him – certain that no one, not even the mighty Gilgamesh, could defeat him.

The two men engage in a heated battle, until Gilgamesh finally emerges victorious. As the story is told, Enkidu concedes to Gilgamesh – and, the two become inseparable friends.

Until the day when Enkidu takes ill. When he finally dies, Gilgamesh is heartbroken.

It is the first time he has faced the reality of being human.

In his arrogance, Gilgamesh demands to see The Immortal One – wishing only to bring his dear friend back to life. A seer provides Gilgamesh with his vision – that of a long journey, with secret stones laid carefully along his path to guide him. The stones were to be provided to the ferryman for his voyage, but – when Gilgamesh stumbles on the stones, he smashes them in anger. When he is asked for the stones, he has nothing to give – a metaphor for the very way in which he had lived his life. That is to say,

We often break that which we need most of all.

A brilliant summary of the tale occurs in Mark Nepo’s book, “The Book of Awakening” in which he offers,

“In his blindness of heart he broke everything he needed to discover his way. With the same confusion, we too break what we need, push away those we love, and isolate ourselves when we need to be held most.”

Indeed, in my own life – I can recall countless tales of my own confusion. And, as Mark so eloquently desribes, “in the frenzy of my own isolation, like Gilgamesh, I have smashed the very window I was trying to open.”

When Gilgamesh returns to the city, he is empty handed but full of heart.

You see, my darlings – in the end, it’s always the journey which softens us to fear.

“Gilgamesh, fill your belly. Day and night make merry. Let days be full of joy, dance and make music day and night. Look at the child that is holding your hand, and let your wife delight in your embrace. These things alone are the concern of men.”

My goodness, what a most beautiful reminder…we live, we breathe, we bend, we break…but, we always seem to find our way back to center, once again.