Odysseus didn’t rest on his laurels. But like the rest of us, maybe he should have

July 25, 2026 — 9:30am

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The phrase “resting on your laurels” hasn’t always been a criticism; once it was a point of praise. Instead of suggesting complacency and laziness, it was a public recognition of achievement. In Ancient Greece, athletes were awarded wreaths of laurel leaves – also known as bay leaves, the kind you pop into a soup or stock.

The term had arisen from mythology and the age-old phenomenon of spurned men really not picking up the vibe. In short, the god Apollo had the hots for the beautiful river nymph Daphne, and pursued her doggedly despite her lack of interest. One day, when he was chasing her and had just caught her, she begged her father, the river god, to save her. Naturally, he turned her into a laurel tree. (To be fair, Cupid, annoyed with Apollo, had shot him with a gold-tipped arrow of love and Daphne with a lead-tipped arrow of repulsion, so this was never going to go well).

Apollo tried to salvage this turn of events by kissing the tree, whispering: “Since you cannot be my bride, you must be my tree!” He hacked off some branches to make a wreath for his head. Laurels became crowns of victory. From the 6th century BC, bay leaves were placed on the head of every winner at the Pythian Games in Delphi.

Now, with the broad public dissection of The Odyssey, a rare box-office triumph, including talk of Odysseus’ relentless drive, I’d like to suggest we revert to the original, Grecian meaning of........

© Brisbane Times