When I was working on my English degree, I preferred world literature over English or American. But I always did like some snippets from English poet Alexander Pope.
Every January, I am reminded of this:
Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never is, but always to be blessed.
The soul, uneasy and confined from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
(I think he's really referring to Heaven there, but for our purposes, let's pretend he's talking about our materialistic Earth.)
Sure, I don't have much breast from which hope could spring, but no matter how negative I seem, I am always hopeful that the next day, week, month, year will be better (or even better as the case may be). Is hope a bad thing? Does it mean you're not satisfied with today? I think it just means you always hope for the best, you hope for blue skies and rainbows and butterflies and a magic invisible leprechaun to hand you a million dollars every time you ask for it. You hope for your family's health and safety and happiness and that they don't kill you in your sleep.
Might I add that Pope also said Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. So maybe I'm a fool to rush in to such hope—especially when I seem to have all I need, and especially when hope has no power over fate or destiny or cellulite. I imagine angels take things as they come and rest as the discontent keep searching for something they think might be better.
My favorite Pope quote (Americanized here) is probably: True wit is nature to advantage dressed; What often was thought, but never so well expressed. This really has no relevance here other than to point out how witty I am.
All this to say, a new year always gives me a feeling of a do-over. A mulligan. A chance to be more successful, patient, grateful, sensitive, and spiritual. Basically, a new chance to be more better. A chance to become someone I'll never be without a lobotomy, but I'll keep hope alive--at least for that leprechaun.
We'll see how it goes.
Friday, January 9, 2009
High Resolutions
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2 comments:
i love it when you get all existential- very Kundera of you. having said that, there is certainly a lyrical profundity to your words (Garcia Marquez-ish, while i’m dropping names). while you find cause to pine ahead, i myself tend to use the occasion of the new year to look backwards, to see what blessings i received (out of no worthiness of my own), and to give thanks therefore.
i had the absurd fortune of seeing a year pass with my children and wife healthy. there were many edifying and fulfilling experiences had by James and Jenny, and they grew intellectually, socially, and of course physically, with breathtaking nonchalance and alacrity. work remained primarily a means only- but of course there were several satisfying sidebars made possible by the compensation: a quick jaunt to Netherlands and Belgium for the Formula 1 race, the comfort of seeing my children want for absolutely nothing- not even the latest pair of Lelli Kellys or Primigis- and the welcome addition of a Jaeger LeCoultre Reverso Duo to my slowly burgeoning collection of heirloom timepieces.
which is not to say that materialism alone informs my gratitude. every night before bed the family gathers for prayers, and the following is my prelude:
God, I am thankful for this glorious day, for the gift of my life here on Earth and my chance for eternal life with you in Heaven. Thank you for my wife and children, my precious family, beautiful friends, and all the abundant blessings you bestow upon me, not because i deserve them, but because you love me.
i have no wish for the new year other than, upon its completion, to be able to look back upon it in gratitude and peace, as i do this year.
Thanks for making me cry and look like an ingrate at the same time.
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