The Mantra of a Wanderer

Be kind, not for what you can gain
          But for the worth of what you may give
Be courageous, not from what you fear
          But for what you do not have enough fear of
Be peaceful, not for the moment of rest
          But for the moments following, where there is no rest
Do not look to the future for what it offers you
          But for what you can offer it
Do not be selfish without grace
          Do not have courage without mercy
                  Do not be anxious for what you cannot change
                          Do not have vision for your own benefit
                                  But for the betterment of the earth
Be pure in your intentions
Gentle in your steps
Soft in your words
Fleeting in your remorse
          Wear no mask of joy nor piety
                  Make no sovereignty
                          Weep with the mourning
                  Make for each morning a new person
           Wear no image of your past
Remember all you have done, but do not dwell on guilt once its time has passed
Leave no image of yourself
          Only what change you have caused
Let your ripples wake gentle in the pool of existence
You alone are not important....

But your actions are.

Delving into Julius Caesar: A Series

THE WHY OF THIS UNDERTAKING
It is one of the most fascinating intrigues in Shakespearean literature that play should be titled in the name of a character who appears, amidst other dramatis personae, in only three scenes; his lines unfathomably egotistical at best and dull and unmemorable at worst. Why, then, is this luminary, the archetypal pinnacle of regalia and conquest, echoed throughout the tropes of art, writings, and history? What condemned his legacy to a catastrophic fall in the fateful Ides of March?
In this post series, I will be studying the context of the ambivalent tragedy of Julius Caesar in regards to its historical significance and eminence in tact and elegance of prose. Shakespeare was a connoisseur of words, both bitter and sweet, and his compositions are relevant and poignant even today. Perhaps he only matured to rise upon the pedestal of eminence we esteem him on presently with age-- and the evolution of English. It is only the sentimentality of death that lends high appraisal to innumerable puns and scandalous wise cracks ("Thou hast undone our mother" "Villain, I have done thy mother"). But unlike many revered artists, Shakespeare was recognized in his own day. His sonnets still ring pure with the music of his iambic rhythm, and his remarkable plays, performed with increasing regularity, captivate audiences without fail-- as long as the language can be understood.
As John Steinbeck proclaims in his classic East of Eden; "...what had happened was all muddied by the way folks wanted it to be- more rich and meaningful the farther back it was."
This being said, I do treasure Shakespeare. It may be difficult, at times impossible, to wrench from the dialogue of every wayward character the ideology of the author, but there is much benefit to be gained from the study of past arts and literature; not just the 154 sonnets, but the Vatican paintings; not only the grim account of Romeo and his lover Juliet, but the lyrics of the Troubadours and the novelists, historians, song-writs of yesteryear. No memory is fit to be marred with the label of "antediluvian", "passé", "impractical for modern times". Embrace the past, analyze it, pull it to the present. Learn about yourself through the minds of those far before you. Know that you will be swallowed up by the grave of earth, the despaired end-- and comfort yourself in the hope that your legacy of thought, if recorded, may be venerated in the centuries to come.
Live on, little planet.