Asking Myself "If" draft

My parents always said that I was born as a 30-year-old. I always preferred hanging out

with older kids, talking to adults, and discussing topics most would deem “out of my

age realm”. I think my soul has just always craved the wisdom that only age and time

have permitted. When talking one on one with someone who is my superior, I always

ask, “What’s the advice you wish you were given at my age?” and while I’ve been

given great and knowledgeable answers, Rudyard Kipling’s poem “If”  was best.

I stumbled upon his wise words earlier this year, and I have committed it to the

depths of my memory. He wrote the best advice for his son to live the happiest life

imaginable, and I too have found solace in his syntax.

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:

This past year has been a year of growth for me. Not in the length from which my

waist meets my toes, but rather where my heart meets my mind, and my mind meets

my mouth. I learned the way words can grow kindness as water and sunlight can grow

a seed to a flower. Kipling’s first stanza directly addresses the importance of being

confident in the decisions we make-- and taking responsibility for those decisions.

Granting wise counsel that if others, who can’t take responsibility for themselves

react negatively to your decisions, to be patient with them. Kipling notes the importance

of not coming to their level by telling lies or dealing with hate. I’ve made a lot of

decisions in this last year. What to major in, who to invest time in, who to formulate

ideas with, and it shapes and paves the road for what is to come.

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:

I have these grandiose dreams and ideas, and I push and I work at them until the only

the thing I can hear is my heart beating in my chest blocking out the noise from the outside

world. This next stanza notes the importance of being a “dreamer”, but not letting

these dreams control your life. Looking at this from a Marxist point of view, we can’t
let our place in life take over and our lust to climb the ranks that aren’t meant for us
to climb. I think it’s easy to become infatuated with the degrees of glory, and as
Kipling notes- it’s important to have dreams, but not let them control our lives.
I have been far too guilty of letting what looks good on paper be fuel in my
life plans until I realized, that I didn’t actually like what I was doing. For

example, I come from a long line of lawyers and it’s my dad’s dream for me to go to

Law school. I entertained the idea for about 8 months and convinced myself that it

was my life calling. I can now say with assurance that it’s not, but I still have yet to break
the news to my dad. While now I don’t think it is, it’s hard to realize what we want to
do with our lives isn’t what our parents think is best for us.

I am also known for being an incredibly passionate person, developing a swift opinion

on just about everything I do-- deeming it either triumph or disaster. Kipling tells his

readers that they will experience both in their lives, but the critical importance is to

not take them seriously because they are not the substance of life-- but rather

the extremes.

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 for the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

There is something about loss that makes people think about where their life is going.

I have found that every time I have suffered from a “loss” the gain I acquired far

exceeded the struggle and heartache that preceded it. And while it may be a vile

pill to swallow, sometimes it’s exactly what the doctor ordered. My own hardest

loss was when I tore my ACL, MCL, and meniscus my sophomore year of college.

I was on crutches for two months, and couldn’t walk for about five. I went home

for the semester to heal, and I learned more about empathy and the love of Christ

than I could have ever imagined. When we feel like our life is in shambles, is really

the rubble from where we can find the blocks to turn ourselves into a mosaic.

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!

This was the point that I realized that this poem was going to be the turning point
in how I chose to live my life. It’s necessary to be able to talk to large groups of
people and yet, not let them influence your belief in what is right, wrong, moral,
or immoral. To stick our courage to the sticking place and to choose for ourselves.
To love people, but not let their return of love be the commander happiness. And if
we learn to do all these things and abide by Kipling’s rules, everything in the world
can be ours.