God, there’s reasons to be resentful about your existence. Everyone you know is gonna die. And there is going to be a fair bit of pain along the way, and lots of it is going to be unfair. It’s like, YEAH! No wonder you’re resentful. It’s like, act it out and see what happens. You make everything you’re complaining about infinitely worse.
So you think, well, what do you do about that? Well, you accept it. That’s what life is like. It’s suffering. Put yourself together. And then maybe if you put yourself together, you know how to do that. You know what’s wrong with you, if you’ll admit it.
You know there’s a few things you could like, polish up a little bit. That you might even be able to manage in your insufficient present condition. And so, you might shine yourself up a little bit, and then your eyes will be a little more open, and then you can shine yourself up a little bit more, and …
… It takes responsibility, and I think, you know, you said to someone – do you want to have a meaningful life? Everything you do matters. That’s the definition of a meaningful life. That everything you do matters. You’re gonna have to carry that with you.
Or do you want to just forget about the whole meaning thing, and, then you don’t have any responsibility because who the hell cares? You can wander through life doing whatever you want, gratifying impulsive desires for how well useful that’s going to be. And you’re stuck in meaningless, but you don’t have any responsibility, which one do you want?
Well, ask yourself, which one are you pursuing? And you’ll find very rapidly that it isn’t the majority of your soul that’s pursuing the whole meaning thing, because oh look what you have to do to do that. You have to take on the fact that life is suffering. You have to put yourself together, in the face of that.
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.
Get yourself together. Transcend your suffering. See if you can be some kind of hero.