Favorite poem
Shouting out my favorite poem, Desiderata by Max Ehrmann. Given the high intensity work environment we find ourselves in, I find it grounding to read from time to time.
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
Desiderata by Max Ehrmann is indeed a timeless and grounding piece, especially in high-intensity environments. Its wisdom resonates deeply with themes of balance, self-awareness, and resilience. The lines about avoiding comparison, embracing humility, and nurturing inner peace are particularly relevant for those navigating demanding careers. It’s a beautiful reminder to find tranquility amidst chaos and to cherish the beauty of life despite its challenges. A perfect choice for reflection and grounding!
Sources: Reading List for Intellectual Killers, Dear KKR, A Guide to the Good Life, "A Son Never Dies" by Sunil Gupta - Moving Letter from a Father of an Ibanking Analyst
Not a doomer, but I can’t get this out of my mind. It’ll randomly pop in during bouts of existential dread on late night Ubers.
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
- The 2nd Coming; Yeats
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!
Just saw a video of Sir Michael Caine reading this one. Mint.
Far dearer to me than my treasure,
The heiress declared,
is my leisure.
For then I can screw the whole Harvard crew-
They're slow,
but that lengthens the pleasure.
Triumph of Time - Algernon Charles Swinburne
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice;
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress;
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
I'll chime in with one of mine.
WONDERFUL
May you always picture where you are as where you're meant to be.
May you take in your surroundings like you visited especially.
We all end up in the soil eventually, so may you
carry such goodness that it nourishes for centuries.
May you see life as a show and may the entry fee be empathy,
sat front row with an empty seat for friends in need.
When you're on form, be generous and spread that energy.
When you're not sure, be gentle with yourself
and don't forget to breathe.
You need not be defined by your many feats: you are not a centipede.
There is a joy in doing something terribly.
May you share brews and bruises and may you do this tenderly.
You are the most improved you there has ever been.
Of all the words you'll ever hear, remember these:
life is too short to eat celery.
Life is too long to feel jealousy.
Life is likely just the right length to need therapy.
May you be seriously silly, may you be wickedly kind.
May you be brilliantly dumb sometimes and yet stupidly bright.
May you certainly have doubts, may your weirdness be the norm.
May the coolest thing about you be your warmth.
May you be powerfully vulnerable, or at least mightily soft.
May you be a contradiction, and yet at the same time not.
And, whichever you are any, none or all of the above,
above all, may you know that you are loved.
May you understand that it's okay to change your mind.
And thank you in advance for all the ways you're changing mine.
May you always make room for playfulness. It may just save your life.
And trust whatever makes your heart grow cannot be a waste of time.
It may not make you money. It may not even make sense.
But if it makes you happy it is worth it in the end.
And it is worth it at the time, and it deserves your very best.
And you are never too busy to catch your breath.
Just as you cannot be in traffic without being traffic,
life is not something that you are stuck in while it happens.
There is more in you than you could possibly imagine.
The very fact that you exist makes everything a bit more magic.
When it all feels too much and there is little you can do,
may you still see the best in people and may people include you.
May one thing match the gravity of all you've ever done.
This wonderful reality: the best is yet to come.
Harry Baker
Out of the night that covers me
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henley, "Invictus"
amazing
great pick, I reckon this will stick with me
Not a poem but Citizenship in a Republic by Teddy Roosevelt is my favorite non religious spoken word. Fantastic in all ways
"I love a broad margin to my life. Sometimes, in a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath, I sit in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, rapt in a revery, amidst the pines and hickories and sumachs, in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sing around or flitted noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling in at my west window, or the noise of some traveller's wagon on the distant highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time.
I grew in those seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work of the hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my life, but so much over and above my usual allowance.
I realized what the Orientals mean by contemplation and the forsaking of works. For the most part, I minded not how the hours went. The day advanced as if to light some work of mine; it was morning, and lo, now it is evening, and nothing memorable is accomplished. Instead of singing like the birds, I silently smiled at my incessant good fortune. As the sparrow had its trill, sitting on the hickory before my door, so had I my chuckle or suppressed warble which he might hear out of my nest.
My days were not days of the week, bearing the stamp of any heathen deity, nor were they minced into hours and fretted by the ticking of a clock; for I lived like the Puri Indians, of whom it is said that "for yesterday, today, and tomorrow they have only one word, and they express the variety of meaning by pointing backward for yesterday forward for tomorrow, and overhead for the passing day."
- Henry David Thoreau
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