The Poseidon Adventure Paradigm of Living

There is a thought that has been running through my head for most of my life. A sort of defining principle that has served as a guidepost for many, many years.

I recently articulated it to someone for the first time, and they thought it was useful and worth sharing.

In the 1972 version of The Poseidon Adventure, there is a moment when our small band of heroes, trapped inside an overturned cruise ship, encounter another group of survivors being led by the ship’s doctor toward the bow.

Our heroes are headed to the stern. The bow, they believe, is underwater. A small boy in their party had taken a tour of the ship days before, and he was told that the hull was thinnest in the engine room. Thus it would be the most likely place for a rescue attempt.

A passenger and preacher, who is leading our small band of heroes, pleads with the doctor and his people to turn around and join them on their journey to the engine room. The ship’s doctor refuses, claiming that the engine room has likely been destroyed. He proceeds on, and every member of his party follows. They disappear down an overturned corridor into darkness, never to be seen again.

One of our heroes asks the preacher:

If all those people
think they’re right…
… maybe we should go with them.

I have thought about this moment for as long as I can remember. That scene has returned to my mind thousands of times over the decades since I first saw that film.

If all those people
think they’re right…
… maybe we should go with them.

I think this is how many people live their lives. I think they head to the bow. Follow the path of least resistance. Pursue the same route trodden by so many before them. They blindly fall in line with the thinking of authority figures, family, peers, and colleagues, moving relentlessly in the direction of so many before them, absent of curiosity or skepticism or doubt.

Eventually, they drown. Not in sea water, but in mediocrity and boredom. They drown in unrealized dreams and forgotten passions. They become submerged in the misguided and unquestioned beliefs of those who came before them and those who surround them.

So many times in my life, I have faced a difficult decision. A fork in the road. The choice to take the well trodden path or an uncertain trail. So many times I have stood at one of those crossroads and said to myself, “Head to the stern. Find the engine room. To hell with the doctor.”

Those exact words.

In these moments, I often see that band of doomed survivors in my mind’s eye, heading down a darkened, overturned corridor to their eventual death, and I choose the harder, less traveled road.

Robert Frost wrote:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Admittedly more eloquent and memorable than “Head to the stern!” or “Find the engine room!” but Frost also states in his poem that the unchosen path – the road more traveled – will still be available to him regardless of his choice.
He writes:
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
Though Frost acknowledges that he will likely never take that second, more well trodden path, he indicates that it will remain available to him if needed. It’s not an all or nothing moment.
This is where I think Frost is wrong. Yes, there are decisions in life that can be easily reversed, but far more often, in our most momentous decisions, as we step through one door, the other doors simultaneously close behind us.
Options are eliminated.
Choices are narrowed.
Opportunities are lost forever.
What Frost should’ve written was something like:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And the other collapsed into the sea,
Never to be traveled again.
Not nearly as poetic, but I think more accurate.
Budo, the imaginary friend in Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend, once said, “The hard thing and the right thing are often the same thing.”
I agree. I wrote the sentence, of course, but I still agree with it.
But Budo could’ve just as easily said, “Head to the stern. Find the engine room. For God’s sake do not follow those damn people just because they think they’re right or because there are more of them. To hell with the doctor!”
Many of the most important decisions of my life have been made with this Poseidon Adventure paradigm in mind.
More than two decades ago, when I was faced with the choice of a permanent teaching position in a very good school in my hometown or a one year, very temporary, maternity leave position in what looked like an amazing school, I chose the uncertainty of the one year position, hoping I could somehow transform it into something more permanent.
I bet on myself when when everyone in my life was telling me to take the safe bet.
Twenty-two years later, I am still teaching at that school, and that decision has changed my life. Had I chosen the permanent position – the safe option –  I would’ve never met Elysha and many of my closest, most dearest friends today. My decision to “Head to the stern” changed my life in more ways than I have time to list here.
When I’m asked to run for President of my college’s student body or launch a DJ company with my best friend, nearly  everyone in my life told me that I was already too busy and too overwhelmed with two full-time degree programs and a full time job to consider adding anything to my plate.
But I went in search of the engine room, and both of those decisions changed my life forever.
When I was asked to write a rock opera with a friend or teach Shakespeare to second graders or take the stage in New York to tell a story to an audience of disaffected hipsters, there were many who thought these pursuits were foolish. Unworthy of my time and effort and likely to yield little by way of result.
Instead, I said, “To hell with the doctor” and changed my life forever.
Hundreds – maybe thousands – of small and large decisions over the course of my life have been driven by this belief that I must head to the stern. Find the engine room. Avoiding becoming entrapped in the choices of others.
  • I invented a way to cook pizza on a campfire in Boy Scouts when everyone told me it was a ridiculous idea and that hamburgers and chicken were just fine.
  • I told my parents after my first CCD class that I could no longer be a Catholic – when everyone in my life was Catholic – because the notion of a Pope was too authoritarian for me.
  • I accepted a promotion to manager for a McDonald’s restaurant when I was still in high school even though my friends and family thought I was crazy.
  • I agreed to give pole vaulting a try even as my teammates laughed and told me that I would never get my feet off the ground.
  • I’ve led Sunday services in several churches as a substitute minister despite reminders by many that I don’t actually believe in God.

The list is endless.

There are lots of ways to say it:

Zig when others zag.
Blaze your own trail.
Take the road less traveled.

I prefer, “Head to the stern. Find the engine room. To hell with the doctor.”

I prefer to think of these moments as Poseidon Adventure moments. A life or death struggle for my future. An all or nothing proposition.

The preacher sadly doesn’t survive his trip to stern. He dies in one final act of bravery that saves his fellow survivors. Three others die along the way, too. But the preacher was right. The path of least resistance offered no salvation to those poor souls who decided to follow the doctor blindly into the dark.

Head to the stern. Find the engine room. To hell with the doctor.

A scene from a 1972 disaster movie that has helped to define my life.

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