Today’s quote comes from Yeats:
“The world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.”
My Oldman used to read "The Stolen Child" to me. It spooked me as a kid ... faeries whispering sweet nothings to lure a boy away from his home. Out past the trees into the waters and the wild. I would beg him not to leave the room after reading it. I thought the poem was about magic. Turns out, it was about truth.
My Oldman didn’t believe in faeries. He believed in rent due on the first, salt on the sidewalk and good tires in February. He read me Yeats not to enchant me, but to warn me. The world is full of weeping, of loss and of broken things. The answer isn’t to escape, but to stand your ground and build something solid.
I saw something the other day that hit home.
After a certain age, we are no longer the product of our environment.
Healing is our responsibility. Growth is our decision.
No one is coming to save us.
That is the kind of thing my Oldman would've barked between bites of burnt toast and a gulp of black coffee. He didn’t hand out tissues, he handed out accountability.
“You wanna cry about the past?” he’d say. “Fine. Do it on your own time. Come tomorrow, get your big ass up, lace up your shoes, and live like you mean it. Ain’t no faery comin’ to bail you out.”
Today is Purple Heart Day and the last sunset after eight o'clock. I'll take my Oldman's advice, but still take the time to let the sun warm my face and reach for the gusto shining down.
