Poetry from 5,280 feet (Denver)

Two Poems that I want to share and get documented that I've had hanging in my office for as long as I can remember.  Yes, all the offices I've had at all the employers I've had. 

The reason, you ask?

Because they frame what's important, and more importantly, what's not.  That clarity is important in life and on the job.  And it's a reflection that in the hustle and bustle of knocking out my daily or weekly 'to do' list I seldom have time or inclination to think about.

I seem to remember that both poems were read at Grandpa Birchard's funeral.  That they pointed to the way he lived his life.  I don't know whether either of these statements are actually true or not, but it's a nice remembrance even if they aren't true.  I want to remember Grandpa fondly so that's the "truth" I'm hanging on to. 

Well, without further ado, here they are:

The Man in the Glass (anonymous)

When you get what you want in your struggle for self
and the world makes you king for a day,
Just go the mirror and look at yourself
and see what that man has to say.

For it isn't your father or mother or wife
whose judgment upon you must pass,
the fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
is the man staring back from the glass.

Some people might say your a straight-shootin' chum
and call you a wonderful guy,
but the man in the glass says you're only a bum
if you can't look him straight in the eye.

He's the fellow to please, never mind all the rest
for he's with you clear up to the end,
and you've passed your most dangerous, difficult test
if the man in the glass is your friend.

You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
and get pats on the back as you pass,
but your final reward will be heartaches and tears
if you've cheated the man in the glass.

The Station (by Robert Hastings)

Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent. We are traveling by train. Out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village halls.

But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain day at a certain hour we will pull into the Station. Bands will be playing and flags waving. Once we get there so many wonderful dreams will come true and the pieces of our lives will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How relentlessly we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering - waiting, waiting, waiting for the Station.

"When we reach the Station, that will be it!" we cry. "When I'm eighteen." "When I buy a new 450 SL Mercedes Benz!" "When I put my last kid through college." "When I have paid off the mortgage!" "When I get a promotion!" "When I reach retirement, I shall live happily ever after!"

Sooner or later we must realize there is no Station, no one place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The Station is only a dream. It constantly outdistances us.

It isn't the burdens of today that drive men mad. It is the regrets over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today.

So stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, eat more ice cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh more and cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. The Station will come soon enough.
______

These two poems are my very favorites of all time.  Not that I'm a poem connoisseur. They resonate with me and are aspirational.  Can flip my daily issues and how I react to them on end. I wouldn't say I live my life this way as much as I should, but it's good to continue to strive for what they suggest.  And I believe strongly in what they promote.

Usually when I wander off in reflection and happen to see them pinned at my desk it's been a trying day.  Today was no exception.  But after reading them I turn off the computer, pack up my bag, and head home to what's important - and leave behind (for a while at least) all that is not.