I keep thinking about the Sirens from Homer’s The Odyssey. Hollywood and fantasy books paint the Sirens as beautiful monsters who lure men to their deaths with pretty faces and melodious songs. But in the original Greek, the Sirens are grotesque bird-women with human heads. And rather than singing like Ariel from The Little Mermaid, the Sirens sang about knowledge.

They said, “Come closer, famous Odysseus … No one sails past this place in his black ship until he has listened to the honey-sweet voice from our mouths. Then he goes on his way delighted, knowing more than he did before. For we know all the suffering that the Argives and Trojans endured in the broad realm of Troy by the will of the gods, and we know everything that happens upon the fertile earth.”

For the sailors who sit on the shore listening to the endless stream of knowledge, they forget about their families, abandon their duties, and absorb as much information as possible until they starve to death among the rotting bones of previous victims. The myth isn’t saying knowledge is evil – Odysseus listens, after all – it’s warning about the desire to seek absolute god-like knowledge. It’s warning there’s an all-consuming nature to information, and it’s important to temper that desire with restraint.

What the sirens used to look like. Painting by Viktor Vasnetsov. “Sirin and Alkonost,” 1896

At first, the myth may seem antiquated, but when you dig a little deeper, it has relevance to today. The 24-hour news cycle, anyone? How about endlessly scrolling on social media? The news promises to keep you informed, aware, educated. Social media creates a feeling that there’s always something “happening” online that you can plug into any minute. Always another laugh to be had, a recipe to try, a lifehack to learn, while also doing the same thing the news does because how many people learn news through social media? (The answer: a lot.)

Both the news and social media target our deep-seated anxieties, ego, and desire to know what will happen next. I’d say AI is similar because it seems to promise, “I know everything that happens upon the fertile earth,” just like the Sirens.

What we all know, what is repeatedly drummed into us, is that if we stay glued to our screens and feeds, it’s paralyzing. It creates anxiety, draws focus, and pulls us from the life in front of us. I, personally, don’t have a problem with doomscrolling. I’m able to metaphorically stuff wax in my ears by not checking social media all day long. The temptation that is more alluring for me is the promise that someone can tell me the future.

I know I’m not alone in this. I just watched a TV show where one of the characters went to a tarot card reader and asked her to keep pulling cards until she received the answer she wanted about her future. I laughed because while I haven’t done that myself, I recognized the desire. I want to know the future so badly. A part of me thinks if I just know what will happen, then I can feel safe, happy, and secure in the present.

The last year and a half has been a painful reminder that I don’t know the future, I can’t predict the future, and no one else can either. And the tools I thought did those things? The tarot cards and pendulums and I Ching? They are meant to induce self-knowledge, not knowledge of the future. When my pendulum says, “Yes,” in answer to the question, “Will I win that contest?” it’s revealing how much I want to win that contest, not that I actually will. (I mean, maybe I will, but the pendulum can’t know that.)

What I’m learning is something civilization has been grappling with for centuries – the desire to know everything, including the future, only drives people mad. And the solution is something we’ve been hearing for centuries, too: be present with the life you have.

I dream of a world where we understand the desire to know everything exists in various forms. A world where we recognize that intellectual temptation is a trap and can paralyze us. A world where we realize the ancient myths still have relevance for us today.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.