'If'

I have a beautiful calligraphy scroll on my wall which was penned by my uncle. I never knew him but his choice of poem perhaps says a lot about him. The poem is Rudyard Kipling’s ‘If’.

Over the past decades this poem has become unfashionable and rejected by many as the hangover from a world of colonialism and jingoism. Feminists loathe it for its seemingly masculine viewpoint and for the last few words - ‘and, which is more, you’ll be a Man, my son.’

But I think it bears reading again. It speaks of self-trust and fortitude. It warns against being too of the world and losing your centre. It places much emphasis on self-reliance but not isolation - of being there for others. It sows the seeds of the virtue of never giving up, of holding on to the strength and guts which make we humans so magnificent.

It encourages vision and kindliness. It shows how we can walk through the world with our heads high, paying our dues along the way but not being seduced or battered down by false glamours of power and position.

In this poem I think there speaks the truths which many of us today are striving for, are actively modelling our lives around - be we men or women!

IF

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 of 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 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 a make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with torn-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 walk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - not 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.

Rudyard Kipling