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 these 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!
Kipling, who lived in philosophically more barbaric times than we, wrote these words to inspire, and they were very useful when I was a boy. Later on, when I understood how disenfranchised my own ancestors were by the colonial power, my appreciation was slightly soured. It spoiled the view. So I turned my back on all such, and looked to the East for wisdom. However, if today I can remove the filter of my distaste for the colonial context in which these words were penned, and I include Womankind in my personal equation, then I can allow the words to inspire me all over again. I wonder what sort of man Rudyard would be were he journaling today.
Tonight’s artwork is my very poor attempt to express my emotional impressions when reading from Pythagorean sources. I hope you like. Remember to find extra special time for your loved ones on Sunday. Back soon – Peace………..Namaste.
Artwork ©Francis Moloney: 2012.
- Poem of the Day (pjmedia.com)