… and not to yield

We are not now that strength which in old day

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are, —

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

— from Ulysses, by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Isn’t it funny how quickly we lose heart? We start with passion and zeal! The smallest idea, with all its novelty and all the little unknowns, seems like it could change the whole world. It isn’t a small idea at all! It’s a seed that will sprout and grow and tear through the earth, whose roots will tumble the existing structures of hate or inequality or mediocrity or (insert worthwhile cause here), crumbling their foundations just by the nature of what it is.

But we don’t realize that for a root to tear through the earth, it first has to come into opposition with the earth. For the seed to sprout, the seed first has to die. It has to break open. The hard shell cracks and gives way to the vulnerable insides.

It is the cracks that kill us. Our tiny idea turns into a grand dream, and then slowly turns back into a tiny idea again. As time goes on we experience failures, and we sober up to the fact that we aren’t perfect, and we experience that sometimes our close friends aren’t so close, and maybe they aren’t so friendly. Our families misinterpret our intentions. Our safe places turn into burnt bridges. The passion we once had turns into a memory at best, but more likely a scar. A painful reminder that things don’t always work out. For some of us, a reminder that things quite rarely work at all.

But what I love about this poem excerpt is how it ends. “…but strong in will / To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”

The truth is that things have a tendency to get worse before they get better. But there is something to be said for not giving up.

My failures and shortcomings and memories of the things I’ve said, the lives I’ve effected in terrible ways, the people who may never have faith because of the actions they witnessed me take, those things may haunt me. But I can still be strong in will.

The opposition may grow, my help may fade, and the odds may seem completely against me. But I can still strive.

The haze of self-doubt, or the blindness of self-assurance, may make it hard to see the right road, the one that leads to life and community and love. But I can still seek.

And despite everything, all the hurts of the past and all the insecurity about the future, I know the journey is worth it. I know there’s a reason I’m here. I know the people around me are meant for more than working and paying taxes and accumulating junk and dying. I know that God is there. And as long as I know all that, I can not yield.

And so I embrace my little ideas. And though time and fate take their toll, I won’t give up. And words more powerful than any poem have assured me that, even when seems contrary, I will never be alone.