If you have 4 minutes and you’d like to be just a bit happier, click play:
or click here for YouTube link
Thanks to Gretchen at The Happiness Project for posting this!
You’ve probably already seen this video of Susan Boyle on Britain’s Got Talent; if not, take a few minutes to see what hope (and a saucy swing of the hips) can do in the least expected moments.
From an NPR piece on the 50th anniversary of the classic grammar-geek reference book, The Elements of Style:
“If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy.” -Dorothy Parker
Yes, I have a copy. Yes, it is well-thumbed. But perhaps this is why I think of myself more as a “content developer” than a classical “writer”?
Thanks to Chris at Friday Playdate for the quote. (Random trivia – Chris, who I stumbled upon in the blogosphere and love, lives next door to my cousin Dave and his lovely wife Rita. Small, small world)
This poem has been taped over every desk I’ve ever worked at, all the way back to college. It might be my favorite piece of writing, ever. Each line has pulled me through some crisis of confidence at some point or another.
As I watch so many people respond to change and crisis with drama and finger-pointing and angst, I wish I could get them all to listen, really listen, to these words. Enjoy.
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!