26 September 2009
The Power of If (part 1)

Filed under gaps + thoughts

On December 30, 1865, Joseph Rudyard Kipling, novelist and author of the world famous poem, If, was born in Bombay, India. Though he wrote literally hundreds of poems, none have captured the public’s attention quite like If. A few minutes on the internet yields countless references and scores of interpretations of the poem. In 1995, “the BBC conducted a poll over a period of several weeks to discover the ‘Nation’s Favourite Poem’. The poem ‘If’ by Kipling was determined to be Britain’s favourite.” (source: www.bbc.co.uk)

When still in my youth [ahh, where did it go], Mr. Kipling’s poem was shared with me, by some very dear friends, during an extremely difficult life chapter. It struck such a strong personal cord that it has never stopped resonating. I cannot begin to count the dark storms that it’s resonating message has helped me navigate. It is only fitting, as I find myself seeking it’s comfort yet again, that I share my own personal interpretation of the poem. Given the probable “wordiness” of this endeavor I have chosen to break the project up into parts, but first, the poem:

If

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!

(source: www.kipling.org.uk)

2009-09-26  ::  Russ Leseberg