JANUARY 07, 2019 by Stephen McLaren
Reflections 6

Waiting / Patience / Acceptance

‘The journey of life . . .

Let us be contented with what has happened and be thankful for all that we have been spared.  Let us accept the natural order of things in which we move.  Let us reconcile ourselves to the mysterious rhythm of our destinies, such as they must be in this world of space and time.  Let us treasure our joys but not bewail our sorrows.  The glory of light cannot exist without its shadows.  Life as a whole, and good and ill must be accepted together.  The journey has been enjoyable and well worth making – once.

Sir Winston Churchill

‘Happy the man . . .

Happy the man and happy he alone, he who can call today his own; He who secure within can say, tomorrow do thy worst for I have lived today.  Be fair or foul or rain or shine, the joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.  Not heaven itself upon the past has power, but what has been has been and I have had my hour.

John Dryden


‘The Road Not Taken . . .

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both and be one traveller, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth;


Then took the other, as just as fair, and having perhaps the better claim, because it was grassy and wanted wear, though as for that, the passing there had worn them really about the same.


And both that morning equally lay in leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day !  Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.  I shall be telling this with a sigh.  Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

‘Do Not Go Gentle Into . . .

Do not go gentle into that good night, old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, because their words had forked no lightning they do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wise men who caught and sang the sun in flight, and learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight; Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height, curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

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