written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label Summit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Summit. Show all posts

Saturday, 30 March 2019

Summit Up?

Ever one to strive to avoid the obvious, the Saturday Blog in tackling the theme of  summit  will make no more than passing reference to mountain peaks or high-level political pow-wows (and that was the passing reference.)

In fact, gentle reader, I'm going to subvert it somewhat, tip it upside down and see what truths fall out of the generally accepted notion that being at the top is a permanently happy place.

Those of you familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy will know he suggested that human beings have five levels of need. In ascending order from the most basic they are: physiological (food, water, sleep, shelter et cetera), security (personal, emotional, financial et cetera), social (family, friendship, grouping, coupling and so on), self-esteem (confidence, sense of worth et cetera) and self-actualization (utilising abilities and talents, seeking happiness...the idea that "What a man can be, he must be" - and for man, read human being).

Maslow's basic premise was that you only start getting to grips with a level of need once the one below it is catered for. It's a bit rigid as a concept although it contains some obvious good sense especially at the base end of the pyramid - who after all worries about self-esteem and self-actualization if they're are consumed with finding food to eat or somewhere to sleep safely at night? - but I contend that the sequence of fulfilment becomes a bit topsy turvy the higher one moves up the rank of needs... the social, self-worth and transcendent happiness bits mix up, wax and wane. We can't be constantly "going at our peak" (to quote the magnificent Game Theory).

For example, here I have to quote Hamlet (from the play of the same name):
"What a piece of work is man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving, how express and admirable in action, how like an angel in apprehension, how like a god: the beauty of the world; the paragon of animals; and yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust?"

Powerful prose, don't you agree? But he was one depressed (and possibly repressed) Dane; though the point is that no matter what we aspire to in the belief that it will bring us lasting satisfaction (a good job, a happy union, financial well-being, lots of stuff) there will be times when that 'whatever' won't appear to do the trick (unless we are very hollow).

Hollow Henry Hoovering Happily?
Mankind (human kind) may appear to be the crown of creation but that is no cause for arrogance or complacency. Our place on the podium - as individuals and as a species - is not guaranteed.

As if to prove the point, here's something I wrote for World Mental Health Day about the curse of the cur, depression...

Black Dog
When it followed me at first
I thought it must be
someone else's hound
lolloping soundlessly at heel
through the park at dusk,
but there was no one else around.

I shook it off that time
but when it joined me next
as I took my customary evening stroll
I guessed it must have searched me out.

Several times it even followed me home
and I figured it for a stray.
I always turned it away.

More recently I've woken
to find it waiting at the gate.
It never barks, just glowers darkly.
I'd put off venturing forth
till it was gone
although it sometimes made me late.

And now, I don't know how,
it's found a way into the house.
I hear it pacing, breathing,
right outside my bedroom door.

I think I'll never leave my bedroom
anymore...

Hollow Henry's Hellhound
Okay, to lighten the mood, I leave you with a musical bonus: Jefferson Airplane performing  Crown Of Creation  (Just click on the song title to activate the hyperlink.)

Thanks for reading! To thine own self be true, S ;-)

Tuesday, 26 March 2019

Summit - Per ardua ad alta

 
 

Per ardua ad alta

Our school motto was embossed on the shield shaped badge pinned to our hats, embroidered on the top pockets of blazers and printed boldly on the front of every exercise book. Addressing an assembly of new First Year pupils, which included me, the formidable looking head teacher gave the meaning as ‘by hard work reach the top’, something we had to remember and live up to.

There is a stone built monument on the top of a hill close to where we stay at Queenshill, Dumfries & Galloway. It’s known as Neilson’s Monument. James Beaumont Neilson (1792-1865) was an engineer in an ironworks. He invented a method of increasing fuel efficiency of the blast furnace, quite by chance when he was in the process of trying to solve a problem with it. His son, Walter Montgomerie Neilson erected the monument to his father’s memory.  On one of our visits we decided to walk up. There was a lane, a cow field to cross then a path leading the way. It was much further away than we realised, an ambitious ‘stroll’ up a hill, but we made it to the summit in one piece, just about - as my husband asked me about the suitability of my footwear, which were strong and sensible shoes, he tripped and landed on his derriere, very funny – the climb was worth the stunning views. It was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime trek.

During our time in Dumfries & Galloway last week, we went to see the Grey Mare’s Tail waterfall, north of Moffat. It is reached by a scenic drive through hills and the waterfall is visible from the road, which is good as we’re not up for clambering any more. I got out of the car to take some photos and decided to climb up the embankment to get a better view. It was a bit steep for my knees and squelchy with the rain from earlier in the day, but I’d come all this way and I was going to make the most of it. Not exactly on top of the world, lots above me, but I was high enough and I hadn’t considered how I was going to get down again. These legs of mine can’t manage to get down the stairs without relying on a sturdy banister. Oopsy, reckless me. It took ages, inching my way down very slowly, each step carefully measured. I was sore the next day but every ache was worth it.

Per ardua ad alta, I’m still climbing.

 

“The Builders” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 
All are architects of Fate,
Working in these walls of Time;
Some with massive deeds and great,
Some with ornaments of rhyme.

 Nothing useless is, or low;
Each thing in its place is best;
And what seems but idle show
Strengthens and supports the rest.

 For the structure that we raise,
Time is with materials filled;
Our to-days and yesterdays
Are the blocks with which we build.

 Truly shape and fashion these;
Leave no yawning gaps between;
Think not, because no man sees,
Such things will remain unseen.

 In the elder days of Art,
Builders wrought with greatest care
Each minute and unseen part;
For the Gods see everywhere.

 Let us do our work as well,
Both the unseen and the seen;
Make the house, where Gods may dwell,
Beautiful, entire, and clean.

 Else our lives are incomplete,
Standing in these walls of Time,
Broken stairways, where the feet
Stumble as they seek to climb.

 Build to-day, then, strong and sure,
With a firm and ample base;
And ascending and secure
Shall to-morrow find its place.

 Thus alone can we attain
To those turrets, where the eye
Sees the world as one vast plain,
And one boundless reach of sky.

 


 
Thanks for reading, Pam x