Self Reflection

2 Comments

I was going to write a whole entry talking about people’s ability to be truly self-reflective, but I think I’d rather just post a poem instead.

I post this at least a few times a year, and I really feel like it’s one of the best works in the English language…simple statements, but if you can really do the things it talks about, you really are a phenomenal person (which is sad when you think about it…that it’s actually “difficult” to live your life this way…)

It’s especially bothers me that many Black Greeks memorize this during their processes but the message of it goes out the window as soon as they cross…I mean it’s a staple for a reason…

For the 348th time…

If By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

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2 Comments

  • May 9, 2012 at 10:20 am
    Patrice

    An 11-10 masterpiece. I wonder if Kipling counted the syllables or if it just came out that way naturally. Regardless, it is amazing how he does that without a hint of compromise.

    This poem must strike a chord in all of us. Although it is a virtually unattainable ideal of a ‘Man’, it is one we should all aspire to.

    More people should name their sons Rudyard.

    Reply
    • May 9, 2012 at 9:08 pm

      I don’t think I’ve ever sat through the jungle book, but it might be worth it if he wrote the original book.

      Reply

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