Margaret’s Song

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  There was a king in Thule,  True even to the grave;  To whom his dying mistress  A golden beaker gave.  At every feast he drained it,  Naught was to him so dear,  And often as he drained it,  Gush’d from his eyes the tear.  When death came, unrepining  His cities o’er he told;  All to his heir resigning,  Except his cup of gold.  With many a knightly vassal  At a royal feast sat he,  In yon proud hall ancestral,  In his castle o’er the sea.  Up stood the jovial monarch,  And quaff’d his last life’s glow,  Then hurled the hallow’d goblet  Into the flood below.  He saw it splashing, drinking,  And plunging in the sea;  His eyes meanwhile were sinking,  And never again drank he. “Margaret’s Song” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832) in “Faust. Part I.”

Inspiration

Have you ever noticed that you feel compelled to do something when you hear or read a good story? You can’t quite put your finger on it but there is this knowledge that you want to take some kind of action, like be a better person. Sure, we like to read or listen to something for entertainment, but what remains when we are finished? Warm fuzzies that ultimately dissipate and get lost in the shuffle of the day. It’s nearly impossible to recall that feeling once it’s gone. But there are some elements we encounter that leave a lasting impression because we are impelled take some kind of action.

Remember those tomes of literature we used in high school and college. Did you ever notice how many discussions were had over those stories? If you still have one, crack it open and notice the questions at the end of each contribution. How many imparted some kind of moral lesson or set an example to be followed? Perhaps you did not notice your conscience responding to what you read or heard yet you suddenly thought differently, saw from a different perspective or deepened your understanding of the world?

I’ll list a few stories and one or two objectives they suggest.

  • Gift of the Magi (O. Henry: loving sacrifice)
  • Old Man and the Sea (Hemingway: perseverance)
  • The Prophet (Gibran: life issues)
  • Lord of the Rings (Tolkien: humility and pride)
  • Chronicles of Narnia (Lewis: spirituality)
  • The Iliad and the Odyssey (Homer: leadership, respect, power of forgiveness)
  • The Egg (Anderson: consequences of anger, failure)
  • Something Wicked This Way Comes (Bradbury: vice and virtue)
  • The Pearl (Steinbeck: greed)

While it might be argued these are older works, don’t miss that these are classics for a reason. It’s the storyteller as much as the story. Contrast for a moment two kinds of storytellers. Some speak in full paragraphs, filling the air (or page, as it were) with words. Some written works stand out because they are so unwieldy and threaten to topple under the plethora of verbiage, such as James Joyce’s “Ulysses”. Others speak or write carefully, plainly, and inspire even with the mundane. The definition of poetry might be simply, “carefully chosen words.” One speaks to people while the other talks about people. Which one stirs the soul? Who is the better storyteller?

“The wise man speaks because he has something to say. The foolish man speaks because he has to say something,” goes the old proverb. Wisdom makes the best story and it is this seed that sprouts, calling us to do something with what we’ve read or heard. We might say we’ve been inspired.

Do you know what inspiration is? It means to breathe life into a body. When we inhale we might say we are inspired. Don’t miss this: inspiration is objective—it comes from outside us. Now we must do something. Or be merely entertained.

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