Aspiration and Inspiration

I have a nice large lateral section of provolone with me, and several pleasant liquids which one might imbibe on such an occasion. There is bread. And it is quiet.

I think of all that is past, all that is to come. And I remember some of Robert Browning's words in his long and rambling Rabbi Ben Ezra:

For thence — a paradox
Which comforts while it mocks —
Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail:
What I aspired to be,
And was not, comforts me:
A brute I might have been, but would not sink the scale.

That scale is of course a reference to the weighing out of men's souls. A heavy-laden soul would sink the scale; an unburdened one (or less-burdened one) would not. It makes me reflect on what 'success' and 'failure' have meant and have come to mean to me.

And that brings me back to both the first and last verses of that poem. It begins with

Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in his hand
Who saith, “A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!”

and it ends with

So, take and use Thy work:
Amend what flaws may lurk,
What strain of stuff, what warpings past the aim!
My times be in Thy hand!
Perfect the cup as planned!
Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same!

We are all works in progress. Sometimes, the text is blotted, censored, savaged, missing, or incompetent. And sometimes, it is sublime or strange or both. I am inspired to greater heights by the realisation that what I aspire to be is not necessarily as great as what may one day come to pass.