A few weeks ago, I made a long-awaited visit to the tomb of Nikos Kazantzakis in Heraklion, Crete. What should have been a moment of reverence for one of Greece’s greatest writers was clouded by the sight of graffiti, trash, and neglect surrounding this sacred place as I walked up the steps.
Sitting there, I thought of all the lessons I had absorbed from Kazantzakis’ words—and one in particular came back to me: personal responsibility.
Not responsibility in the narrow sense of chores or obligations. I mean how we, as members of a community, as members of society, are responsible for ensuring that the world around us is a beautiful place. Not beautiful, as in picturesque. Beautiful as in a place where we can thrive—personally and professionally. A place to build communities and families. A place to learn and grow.
The tomb sits high on the Venetian walls that once guarded Heraklion. To reach it, I climbed steps littered with trash, walls covered in graffiti, a rusted gate, and even the sign itself so vandalized that it was unreadable. Inside, no display or marker explained who Kazantzakis was or why his legacy matters.
Yet, at the grave itself, quiet set in. I thought about the man whose books and philosophy have shaped so much of how I see the world. And as I walked back down those same steps, I caught myself wondering whose job it was to maintain the site. Was it the Ministry of Culture? The Municipality of Heraklion? Some other faceless agency lost in the web of Greece’s notorious bureaucratic network?
As if answering me directly, Kazantzakis’ words from Saviors of God echoed in my head:
“Love responsibility. Say: It is my duty, and mine alone, to save the earth. If it is not saved, then I alone am to blame.”
That’s when I realized it was my responsibility to do something.
Since that day, I’ve returned to Heraklion several times, reaching out to local agencies and getting to know people in the community. I’ve also started laying early groundwork for a possible team of Greek America Foundation volunteers to spend time next summer cleaning and beautifying the area.
For now, it’s still a vision. But I’m reminded of the words of another Cretan—Dr. Marie Bountrogianni—who once told me, “vision without implementation is just a hallucination.”
Between Kazantzakis and Bountrogianni, I’ve got good mentors urging me to act. As always, I welcome support, feedback, and team members to make this project real. If you’d like to join the effort, message me.
