Invictus, by William Ernest Henley
Invictus 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 1849-1903) (At the age of 12, Henley contracted tuberculosis of the bone. A few years later, the disease progressed to his foot, and…
Happy Christmas!
To those who have been bombarded with blog posts over the past few weeks: be merry and be joyful because from tomorrow onwards I will have less time to write… and your mailboxes will not be targeted by new notifications for a while 😀 My jet plane will drop me off somewhere between The Netherlands and France to spend Christmas with my family. Needless to say, I am quite looking forward to it… presents are wrapped, books were chosen to read while resting, phone backed up and synched with new music and suitcase about to be filled. No, not taking 5 pairs of shoes this time, only the one pair of Dr. Martens‘ boots that suit my every style!
Christmas in Dublin
I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. (Charles Dickens)
Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven, W.B. Yeats
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. (William Butler Yeats) © Willeke Van Eeckhoutte and Ireland, Multiple Sclerosis & Me, 2011-2012.
The Harp That Once Through Tara’s Halls
The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara’s walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory’s thrill is o’er, And hearts that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more! No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara swells; The chord alone that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells. Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives. (poem by Irish poet Thomas Moore 1779-1852) (for more info: http://www.knowth.com/tara.htm) © Willeke Van Eeckhoutte and Ireland, Multiple Sclerosis & Me, 2011-2012.
2012: not the end of the world
It’s been an eventful year, and even though there are still 3,5 weeks to go before we enter 2013, I can safely say that this year was one of personal growth and finding myself. Personal growth involves letting go of things you don’t want to clutter your mind, and perhaps ups and downs need to be part of that package also. Somehow inner strength – still wondering where it came from – and hope has kept me walking with my head held high. I’ve learned that yes, I am alternative and it’s OK to be so, not in a punk, anarchist kind of way, but I refuse to be put in one type of box because there’s more to myself than blindly following the crowd to be accepted. I’ve never…
Gratitude: a burdening emotion?
What a week in politics, human and animal rights it has been. Palestinians and Israelis were calling each other terrorists among other terms of endearment. Wolves were still being hunted in the US; dolphins had been massacred in the Gulf of Mexico and other niceties in the animal kingdom came to the fore. No, this had not been an easy week for this world. And then there was NYPD officer Larry DePrimo… Humanity. Humility. Goodwill. Empathy. And most of all: simply a good person. He gave a homeless man new socks and shoes when he found him without footwear sitting next to a shoe shop in Times Square.