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D.R. Ranshaw

D.R. RANSHAW

A Hope Poem

2/27/2017

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Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
     -Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
 
You have to love Tennyson. Well, most of the time, anyway --- I’m not a fan of how he extols egregious stupidity in his Charge of the Light Brigade (‘O the wild charge they made... Honour the Light Brigade, noble six hundred!’), but Ulysses… ah, now that’s a different story.
 
In my last post, in honour of Valentine’s Day, I held up Will’s Sonnet 29 as a terrific example of a love poem. Not too long, not gushy or mawkishly sentimental… but really written from the heart and just a beautiful thing to say to someone. Great poetry.
 
So I wasn’t too surprised when I was asked by a friend about inspirational poetry: what poem could I point at and say, “There’s a piece that really could make one decide to face the day.” (I’m not sure about seizing the day, but it could probably do that, as well. Good poetry is often multi-functional.) And once again, I didn’t have to think very long before an example came to mind.
 
Ulysses is a much longer poem than the excerpt I’ve put at the head of this post, of course. It references Homer’s epic hero Odysseus, whom the Romans turned around and renamed Ulysses when they appropriated the poem from the Greeks (as they did with so many other things, too --- like their entire pantheon of gods).  Ulysses (which is marginally easier and shorter to type than Odysseus, so that’s what I’ll use) was quite the world traveler, seeing all sorts of wonderful (and not so wonderful) things on his journeys. The only problem was, he was gone so long, everyone thought he was dead… and it was quite a surprise to everyone, including his wife, when he at last returned. It’s a great story… well, narrative poem.
 
Tennyson’s poem takes on quite a different flavour. In it, Ulysses is much older, but is thinking of going with his friends out on one last journey --- even though, as Tennyson says, they’re older and don’t have the youthful strength they once had. It’s wistfully sad, really, a metaphor for us all as we age and the dreams of our youth have either been fulfilled or receded into the mists of time. It’s a metaphor for our mortality, something young people rarely ever think of and older people can’t stop thinking about. How we all grow old and lose our youthful vigour as we approach the ‘undiscovered country’ (in Will’s words) from whom no traveler ever returns.
 
I can see your brow furrowing in bemusement. Now, hold on just a minute, you’re saying, I thought we’re talking about inspirational poetry, not the end of a life and the coming of death. And yes, yes, we are. I’m coming to that. Work with me, here. The inspiration --- for me, anyway --- is the very last few lines: “…that which we are, we are; one equal temper of heroic hearts made weak by time and fate, but strong in will (dramatic pause) to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
 
Oh, yeah, he breathed, eyes closed. I still get goose bumps with that last line in particular. What the passage is saying is that, in spite of the crap that life throws at us --- on a fairly constant basis, it seems at times --- and in spite of the fact that we age and as we do, we are no longer capable of some of the things we used to do (note that italicized qualifier on my part: some things, we can’t do anymore as we age, while others, we just get better at), we don’t just lie down and give up on life. We keep going, looking for new challenges to conquer while savouring the victories of old. Above all, we don’t yield: to indifference, to despair, to evil… to the 1001 things in this world that seek to bring us down on a daily basis. Or, as I phrase it in an as-yet unpublished prayer from the sequel to my novel Gryphon’s Heir, the ‘forces of evil and malign indifference which are abroad and at work in the world.’
 
To strive, to seek, to find… and not to yield. Is that not a great mission statement for life? In English or in Latin? Oh, yes: Certare, Petere, Reperire, Neque Cedere, in case you’re wondering, although I admit, it doesn’t roll quite as trippingly off the tongue as some Latin mottos do. But that’s beside the point.
 
The point is, if you go out there and strive… seek… find… and do not yield to the forces of evil and malign indifference abroad and at work in the world… then you can’t help but have a pretty damn fulfilling, interesting, and mostly joyous journey.
 
Who could ask for anything more?

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A Love Poem

2/13/2017

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When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

                -Sonnet XXIX, William Shakespeare
 
Of course, it’s Valentine’s Day fairly shortly, and so, like so many other writers at this time of the year, I was going to discuss some of my favourite literary couples --- a question that was posed to me on my Goodreads author page just last week, as a matter of fact. But then, as I was thinking about a quote I could open the post with, a related topic washed to the surface of my mind: favourite love poems. (I nearly always enjoy seeing what interesting non-sequiturs --- and sequiturs, too, I suppose, although that’s probably not a real Latin word --- my subconscious will come up with.) And I didn’t have to go very far before coming up with my favourite. You just read it at the top of this post.
 
Now, I realize Will isn’t probably at the forefront of everyone’s list of great love poems --- my high school students tend to roll their eyes whenever I talk about how unabashedly romantic Will can be --- but just bear with me for a moment. And look at the sonnet above. Number 29. I like it a lot, and have done for a long time. Why? Because he says some really beautiful things about the subject of the poem.
 
What’s he saying? Okay... let me do the translation that I would do when my students ask that question (their grasp of Shakespeare-ese is often a little... well, tenuous, shall we kindly say):
 
When I am having the worst day imaginable, when all the things that could possibly go wrong in a single day follow Murphy’s Law and do, in fact, go catastrophically, malevolently wrong;
When I look up towards Heaven and scream, “Why, God? Why is this happening to me?” and there seems no answer, just a vast cosmic indifference that is so frigid I can feel the ice in my soul, so there seems no possible way to make any sense of all the crap I’m going through;
And I look around, and observe so many people evidently negotiating the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune (!) so much better than I ever could --- or even not being troubled by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune at all, which is just beyond frickin’ unfair;
And I wish... oh, how I wish I could be someone else: why can’t I have that person’s good looks? Why can’t I have that person’s vast network of friends --- real friends, that is, not just nameless Facebook numbers with about as much realism and sincerity to them as a three dollar bill --- whose like and admiration is a constant sense of balm to a troubled soul? Why can’t I have skills and knowledge and abilities that are worthy and deserving of praise?
Above all... WHY?
 
But you know what? When I have worked myself into this towering tizzy... when I am having a gigantic hissy fit at The Unfairness Of It All... guess what? Something exceedingly strange occurs.
 
I think of you.
 
Let me reinforce that by saying it again: I think of you.
 
And then... perhaps gradually, but more likely fairly quickly... things don’t seem as bad. In fact, my mood swings around quite abruptly. Okay, hugely abruptly. Where I was ready, just a few short moments ago, to rage against a dark and malignant universe... now, I’m ready to sing hymns at Heaven’s gate.
 
Because, you see... when I think of the feelings you have for me... when I remember all you have and continue to give me... the support, the positivity, the loyalty, and above all, the unconditional love you display to an unworthy jerk like me...
 
Well, let’s just say that at that revelation... I wouldn’t trade places with anyone.
 
That’s what your love for me means to me.
 
Wow. What a powerful declaration to make. What a lovely declaration to make: your love doesn’t make all the blackness go away; but it makes it possible to pick myself up, dust myself off --- with your help --- and carry on. More than that: it makes it possible to go out into that oft cold and uncaring world where so much is broken... and move on.
 
That’s a kind of love worth having, and being blessed with.
 
Thanks, Will, you old softy. Millions of high school students never knew you had it in you.
 
(But I did.)

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Ego-what?

2/5/2017

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A long time ago, in a cathedral far, far away...
 
...the Roman Catholic Church generated a list of the worst sins going, the root causes of all that is wrong in our broken world (and there’s plenty wrong in this broken world). They even came up with a name for the list (because not only do we pretty much all like lists, we like naming our lists): The Seven Cardinal Sins. Cardinal in this usage, of course, has nothing to do with the bird, or for that matter, the members of the Pope’s College of Cardinals, the assemblage of his chief advisors. The other meaning of cardinal, the one applicable here, is principal or chief, as in The Seven Most Important Sins, if we were paraphrasing.
 
This list is pretty comprehensive. What’s on it? you ask. Well, here they are: lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride. And actually, some are applicable in more than one area. Lust, for instance, in our hyper-sexualized society, is usually taken to mean sexual lust. But lust also applies to many other things, like power and possessions and so on. Gluttony doesn’t just apply to food, where we would traditionally put it, but to excessive desire for just about anything. Somebody (or several somebodies, more likely) evidently gave the list quite a lot of thought.
 
The worst of them all, the rootiest root cause of all the others, said the Church, was pride. And that’s really where today’s post comes about, stemming from a recent Twitter exchange I had with someone (@drranshaw, if you’re wondering). Because, you see, in my own hubris, I respectfully have to disagree with the Church. The cause of all evil is.... (drum roll, please)... egocentrism.
 
(Twitter isn’t really a forum for weighty philosophical debate --- even if one is not constantly trying to compete with pictures of cats doing silly things or pictures of food people are eating --- because that 140 character limit can be, well, limiting. Although one can make fairly pithy philosophical comments even within that parameter if one has a mind to, he said modestly. After all, as Will said, brevity is the soul of wit. But long philosophical discourse is out. So I decided my blog was a better forum for the concept, and here we are.)
 
Dictionary.com describes egocentrism as: having or regarding the self or the individual as the center of all things: an egocentric philosophy that ignores social causes. 2. having little or no regard for interests, beliefs, or attitudes other than one's own; self-centered. Yep. Sums it up very well.
 
You see, being self-centered --- having little or no regard for others’ interests, beliefs or attitudes, as the definition says --- is just a short hop, skip and a jump from doing really nasty things. Unchecked egocentrism leads us to say that our wants, our needs, our desires are more important than anyone else’s, and it is therefore okay to trample over anybody else’s wants, needs or desires. Which, by the way, encompasses pretty much all of the Seven Cardinal Sins.
 
Now, we’re all born egocentric. It’s all a baby knows. It’s a survival mechanism, really: I want to be fed, right now! I want my diaper changed, right now! I want to be held and soothed, right now! I don’t care that you just did any or all of these things for me recently, I need them doing again, right now! And, of course, because a baby is unable to articulate these needs by engaging in dialogue, its method is to cry and yell --- an effective approach, as any parent can attest.
 
But... what is supposed to happen is that parents educate the child out of his/her egocentrism when he/she’s old enough to understand: No, We Don’t Behave Like That. You need to wait your turn; you need to share; you need to play fair and not hit people when you don’t get your own way. And so on.
 
Unfortunately, as I tell my students, it seems there are a lot of parents out there not doing their jobs very well, because there seems to be a helluva lot of people --- adults, not just children --- who are bent on doing their own egocentric thing, to the detriment of the rest of us.
 
Look at historical figures --- or the villains in our stories, for that matter --- and you can boil their motives and actions down to egocentrism: I’m more important than you, so... or I know better than you, so... or I want this and I don’t care whether you agree or not, so... It’s pretty much all in there: lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride, all wrapped up in the narcissistic little world of the egocentric who just doesn’t give a damn about anything but his/her own wants and desires. They make great story villains --- but they’re not great people to have to deal with in real life.
 
How do we deal with egocentric people (or characters)? Well, pretty much like we deal with anyone we don’t care for very much: give in, ignore, or fight (not necessarily physically). Each approach has its own perils and positives. With our stories, as writers, our characters pretty much have to fight the egocentric, because otherwise, there’s no story, or leastways, no story anyone would want to read... to paraphrase Tennyson, our characters strive, seek, find, and do not yield.
 
In the meantime, you may want to take some comfort from Sir Walter Scott about the egocentric:
 
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour’d, and unsung.

 
It kind of takes the long view, which, I know, is not particularly satisfying when one is confronted by a narcissistic jerk... but sometimes, we need to take the long view.
 
After all, to do otherwise could be egocentric.
 
 

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    D.R. Ranshaw's Blog

    Author of The Annals of Arrinor series.  Lover of great literature, fine wine, and chocolate. Not necessarily in that order.

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