I am an avid reader. Sometimes for escapism, sometimes for education, or a thrill, or to connect with someone more deeply by learning about their past. I have not, however, been a big reader of poetry. Sure, I like some of the obvious poets: Shakespeare, Eliot, Frost, Poe. But, for a great deal of poetry, it’s always felt like Jazz Fusion.

Let me explain. I love music, specifically jazz. It is, perhaps, my favorite genre of music. But jazz fusion seems too abstract, makes me think too much, try too much to stay with the piece. Like jazz fusion, with poetry I find myself needing to fill in pieces of the narrative, when I would rather just consume it. Just my opinion.

So, reading=music as poetry=jazz fusion.

However, at a young and impressionable age, I was introduced to the stories and poems of Rudyard Kipling. And his poem, “If” struck such a cord in me, and, has since stuck with me as one of the most profound and simply beautiful poems. It also parallels many Buddhist tenets, which I never noticed until recently. For those who may not have read it, or don’t recall it, here it is:

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 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,   
    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Upon first blush, it has some echoes of a time before now, and a rather masculine viewpoint. However, he was writing what he knew: he was a man, and it was a letter of inspiration, of sorts, to his son. But what I love about it is how, with each stanza, it’s such an amazing universal tip for us all. Perhaps, especially now.

Kipling teaches us to be mindful of ourselves from the inside out. The first stanza is very similar to the buddhist teachings of controlling our minds and how we react to external circumstances which we cannot control. It also talks about having empathy, which is something that is so lacking in culture, but for which this whole “stay at home” order is fundamentally based.

The second stanza starts looking outward, at our actions in the world, and how they affect our self-worth. It, and stanza three, speak to another buddhist tenet: that of impermanence. But the end of the third, it seems, is so incredibly relevant to what, I think, so many of us are feeling right now:

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!’

There are some dire circumstances going on in the world. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. But how amazing and wonderful is the human spirit, even in adversity, to just “hold on” knowing that, while things may not go back to “normal”, that they will change, and they will get better, even if better is something new.

The final stanza cautions the reader about the concept of attachment, and to stay true to oneself. It summarizes the teachings of the poem into a simple list – stay humble, compassionate, mindful, and thankful.

Literature is a wonderful place to contemplate the world, and our innermost thoughts. And, this poem provides a beacon of hope, and a guide to mindfulness, for this humble reader.