• God: Whatever you do, Adam and Eve, don't eat the fruit of this tree.
• Rama: Whatever you do, Sita, don't leave the hut.
• Mother: Whatever you do, Little Red Riding Hood, don't stray from the path(/talk to strangers).
The predictable, deeply human fall has become a comic refrain in our readings, as R. sympathetically smirks at the characters who proceed to do what they are explicitly told not to do. She's suggested two alternatives: either the rule-giver should explain in great detail the consequences of rule-breaking, or better yet deploy some reverse psychology and tell her charges to do the opposite of what they are supposed to do, so they'll end up doing the right thing.
Cultural anthropologists have a lot to say about this, mainly pointing out that prohibition itself initiates desire. Wallace Stevens put it more lyrically: "not to have is the beginning of desire." We are driven by want, and made all the more aware of our lack when we are told we can't have something.
We have lapsed in our regular accounts of the Odyssey Odyssey, but in the last three sessions we've repeatedly encountered a series of "whatever you do, don'ts"—
* "Whatever you do, tired voyagers, don't open the bag of wind" (E. had the crew blow up and decorate balloons)* "Whatever you do, Pandora, don't open that box" [technically, a vase -- we owe that "box" to Erasmus] (E. brought some lovely patterns for cardboard boxes with details from William Morris)
* "Whatever you do, famished sailors, don't eat the cattle of the sun gold Helios"
Odysseus, that self-controlled "prototype of the bourgeois individual," manages to withhold himself from the Siren call of desire, or give in to it only temporarily (if you can call cavorting for seven years with Calypso temporary!) before returning to his destination.
Last week the crew crafted many prototypes of rafts in preparation for the final (and now solitary, given that everyone else has been knocked off for succumbing to prohibitions) journey to Ithaca. E. first had them design different drafts on paper, and reminded them that they could revise their plans based on elements they found appealing in their peers' work. Then, for a snack they built vessels made of celery and toothpicks. All of this was in preparation for the final weaving of sticks together for a sturdy platform.Psychologists have been confirming something that American parents of our generation seem to have forgotten: self-control is far more important for a child's developing autonomy than vacuous praise ("Good job!"). The stories that have been handed down to us recognize that we keep falling for the same stuff, over and over, and keep reminding us: "Whatever you do, don't!" We are only human, we clearly need to keep being reminded.