Does anybody know the way to Atlantis
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 all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath 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!
When I was 13, my Dad gave this poem to me in a book of poems. We read it together, and then he turned to me. He told me that he was proud of me, that if I could do all of these things, I would be the man he knew I could be. From that moment on, that goal, that trust, has been a part of me. He gave me a ring the next day, a perfect circle that represented our bond, the sacred things we had spoken of that night. I still wear it today.
Now I am a man. I have weathered a lot, and I mean a lot, of storms both professionally and privately. But I have always had that anchor, the anchor of my family, my morals, the promises made that cool Oklahoma night.
Have I lived up to the challenge? Has the anchor rusted away or is it still strong and firm, weighing on my heart, my mind the way it should? These are questions I ask myself every day...questions I will spend my life trying to answer correctly. I understand now why my Dad said those words to me so long ago. Life is hard, and living right even harder in this world. Are we forever ruined or do we get a second chance? I know that sometimes we do. God grants us one, and life goes on. But what about the times we don't? Saying goodbye, leaving something that should by rights be yours is too hard to bear.
Last night I had clam pizza in Little Italy with Marit. It was a celebration of a second chance I've been given. We left the rest behind, left it behind at a broken streetlight. I have someone beautiful who is mine. That's all I ever really wanted.
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 all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath 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!
When I was 13, my Dad gave this poem to me in a book of poems. We read it together, and then he turned to me. He told me that he was proud of me, that if I could do all of these things, I would be the man he knew I could be. From that moment on, that goal, that trust, has been a part of me. He gave me a ring the next day, a perfect circle that represented our bond, the sacred things we had spoken of that night. I still wear it today.
Now I am a man. I have weathered a lot, and I mean a lot, of storms both professionally and privately. But I have always had that anchor, the anchor of my family, my morals, the promises made that cool Oklahoma night.
Have I lived up to the challenge? Has the anchor rusted away or is it still strong and firm, weighing on my heart, my mind the way it should? These are questions I ask myself every day...questions I will spend my life trying to answer correctly. I understand now why my Dad said those words to me so long ago. Life is hard, and living right even harder in this world. Are we forever ruined or do we get a second chance? I know that sometimes we do. God grants us one, and life goes on. But what about the times we don't? Saying goodbye, leaving something that should by rights be yours is too hard to bear.
Last night I had clam pizza in Little Italy with Marit. It was a celebration of a second chance I've been given. We left the rest behind, left it behind at a broken streetlight. I have someone beautiful who is mine. That's all I ever really wanted.