"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."
This quote is often attributed to Plato, but some argue it was someone else. It doesn't much matter; the sentiment is there.
I have several friends who seem to be struggling right now. OK, I'll count myself among them, too, if I'm going to be honest.
We all pass through these times when no matter how bright the sun shines, we feel like we can't get out of the shadows.
At times like this I think of the Peruvian poet César Vallejo. In his tragic poem, "Espergesia," he laments: "Yo nací un díaque Dios estuvo enfermo, grave."
How must it have felt to write that he felt that God was gravely ill the day he was born? I think of his poem, "Los heraldos negros" ("The Black Messengers") and how he cries out about the blows that life delivers us.
Hay golpes en la vida, tan fuertes... ¡Yo no sé!
Golpes como del odio de Dios; como si ante ellos,
la resaca de todo lo sufrido
se empozara en el alma. ¡Yo no sé!
Son pocos; pero son. Abren zanjas oscuras
en el rostro más fiero y en el lomo más fuerte.
Serán tal vez los potros de bárbaros atilas;
o los heraldos negros que nos manda la Muerte.
Son las caídas hondas de los Cristos del alma,
de alguna fe adorable que el Destino blasfema.
Estos golpes sangrientos son las crepitaciones
de algún pan que en la puerta del horno se nos quema.
Y el hombre. Pobre. ¡Pobre! Vuelve los ojos, como
cuando por sobre el hombro nos llama una palmada;
vuelve los ojos locos, y todo lo vivido
se empoza, como charco de culpa, en la mirada.
Hay golpes en la vida, tan fuertes. ¡Yo no sé!
I don't know why poetry, and especially Spanish poetry, speaks to me at times like this. I hope soon I will feel inspired to turn to Neruda's love poems instead of Vallejo's lamentations. But at least for now I know that someone else felt the same way I do. That I'm not alone.
And it reminds me to follow Plato’s admonition to be kind to everyone. We’re all bracing ourselves against the blows of life.
Note: I wrote this post on January 23, 2013. I don't remember exactly what caused me to write it, but I do remember vividly the emotions I was feeling. Any time I pull out César Vallejo poetry, it's certainly not a happy day. I find writing therapeutic and I wrote this as a way to help me deal with whatever it was that I was struggling with. For whatever reason I didn't hit the "Publish" button. I did copy it and share it with a few close friends, but otherwise it's been sitting here as a draft. I ran across a copy I printed out the other day and thought about it a bit after re-reading it, and then today I was reminded again about it. So, here it is.
I answered honestly: "One of us is great, one of us pretty good, and one of us is a bit grumpy."
