I know what you’re thinking. “Did he fire six shots or only five?” Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you’ve got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?
Clint Eastwood as Detective Harry Callahan in the classic Dirty Harry.
I don’t feel lucky lately. I’ll spare you the details, dear gentle readers. I’m old enough to know that we all experience times like these. You know, the Yin & Yang of life, good & bad—yada yada yada. But, dang it, I don’t like it one bit.
So, how do I deal with present circumstances? One way is to laugh. Sometimes the ridiculous nature of life must be laughed at. What else, fickle Fortuna, are you gonna throw at me? Bring it on. I’m ready. That’s the feisty Sheila.
Then I look at the quote from Coach Taylor in the previous post.
Every man at some point in his life is going lose a battle. He’s gonna fight and he’s gonna lose. But what makes him a man is that in the midst of that battle, he does not lose himself. This battle is not over. So let’s hear it one more time. Clear eyes. Full hearts. Can’t lose.
And the wisdom voiced by that fictional character sweeps over me.
“It will be ok in the end. If it isn’t ok, it isn’t the end.” I don’t know to whom to attribute this little pearl to, but Allison passed it along to me and I like it a lot. That’s the “don’t worry dear” approach that always seemed to help especially when delivered by Mother.
And my final source of inspiration comes from a well-loved poem that I always think of and thank my fifth-grade teacher for making me memorize it, If, by Rudyard Kipling.
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 imposters 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 wornout 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 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!
Note: Those who know my history might wonder if this is health-related. It isn't.