As related in numerous books, magazines, TV documentaries, and movies, Howard Carter’s discovery of King Tut’s tomb focuses on a dramatic moment and a turn of events. Carter’s words upon opening the tomb and a supposed curse that touched those associated with the find make the stuff of both documentary and fiction.
Funded by Lord Carnarvon during a late nineteenth and early twentieth century fascination with all things Egyptian, Carter led an excavation team into the Valley of the Kings. After years of exploration into Egypt’s deep past, a search interrupted by WW I, Carter found an unopened tomb. Before he opened the tomb’s sealed door, however, he sent for his benefactor. Hey, for years the guy paid for the dig, why shouldn’t he be part of the discovery?
As the now oft-repeated story goes, Lord Carnarvon and his daughter stood behind Carter as the archaeologist punched a small hole through the tomb’s stone door to look inside. No one knew what to expect. Many such tombs had been robbed repeatedly over the millennia, so there was a chance that for centuries nothing lay behind the door. Holding up a candle to cast light through the hole, Carter squinted a look. An anxious Carnarvon then asked whether or not his archaeologist could “see anything.” Carter then made his now famous response: “Yes, wonderful things.” Carter was looking at a treasure of gold and artifacts buried and unseen for thousands of years.
The other part of the story is the supposed curse, a series of coincidental deaths that seem to follow the treasure. But Carter himself lived a fulfilling life, further excavating in Egypt, serving museums, and even traveling to the United States to lecture. He died in 1939 from lymphoma, a malady that strikes even those who aren’t famous Egyptologists. Opening a door to the deep past doesn’t necessarily carry any curse.
Moments like Carter’s discovery make for high drama, and we fictionalize them for that reason. But shouldn’t we also look into your deep past without any concern for a supposed curse? Yes, it is true that some tombs of our personal histories have been robbed of their treasures, but certainly not all. Couldn’t we look into the details of your life, discard any overlying layers of disappointment or failure, break a small hole in the door, peer through, and exclaim, “Yes, wonderful things”?
There’s a room in your past that houses the treasure of precious moments, those times when things “went right,” people smiled, and hope lay on the horizon. Be as persistent as Carter. Be the archaeologist of Self that breaks through a door you locked on the good moments in your past, yes, wonderful things.
Funded by Lord Carnarvon during a late nineteenth and early twentieth century fascination with all things Egyptian, Carter led an excavation team into the Valley of the Kings. After years of exploration into Egypt’s deep past, a search interrupted by WW I, Carter found an unopened tomb. Before he opened the tomb’s sealed door, however, he sent for his benefactor. Hey, for years the guy paid for the dig, why shouldn’t he be part of the discovery?
As the now oft-repeated story goes, Lord Carnarvon and his daughter stood behind Carter as the archaeologist punched a small hole through the tomb’s stone door to look inside. No one knew what to expect. Many such tombs had been robbed repeatedly over the millennia, so there was a chance that for centuries nothing lay behind the door. Holding up a candle to cast light through the hole, Carter squinted a look. An anxious Carnarvon then asked whether or not his archaeologist could “see anything.” Carter then made his now famous response: “Yes, wonderful things.” Carter was looking at a treasure of gold and artifacts buried and unseen for thousands of years.
The other part of the story is the supposed curse, a series of coincidental deaths that seem to follow the treasure. But Carter himself lived a fulfilling life, further excavating in Egypt, serving museums, and even traveling to the United States to lecture. He died in 1939 from lymphoma, a malady that strikes even those who aren’t famous Egyptologists. Opening a door to the deep past doesn’t necessarily carry any curse.
Moments like Carter’s discovery make for high drama, and we fictionalize them for that reason. But shouldn’t we also look into your deep past without any concern for a supposed curse? Yes, it is true that some tombs of our personal histories have been robbed of their treasures, but certainly not all. Couldn’t we look into the details of your life, discard any overlying layers of disappointment or failure, break a small hole in the door, peer through, and exclaim, “Yes, wonderful things”?
There’s a room in your past that houses the treasure of precious moments, those times when things “went right,” people smiled, and hope lay on the horizon. Be as persistent as Carter. Be the archaeologist of Self that breaks through a door you locked on the good moments in your past, yes, wonderful things.
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