Do Not Go Gentle

Heyo everyone, this week's post will be about not giving up, and to keep in pursuit of your goals, even when they seem so far out of sight.

One of my personal goals this year was to memorize a few poems, one of which is "Do Not Go Gentle into That Goodnight" by Dylan Thomas, written in 1951. In the poem, Thomas talks about how frail life truly is, and how it's something worth fighting for. Each of the stanzas respectfully highlight the importance of "not going gentle into that goodnight", but the best one in my opinion is the second to last one.
"Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight;
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
Thomas emphasizes how even when someone is on the brink of death, we still need to look for reasons to live, or a reason to be happy. Or both.

Even though I'm pretty sure its safe to say I'm a ways away from the intentional meaning of this poem, which is to continue living even on the verge of death (knock on wood) the theme of this poem can be translated over to other aspects in life. Countless times in our lives a goal will seem to be out of reach, with too much work needed to obtain it. Yet to not put any effort into it and to give up without trying, thats the same as "going gentle". If you want something, you have to fight for something. Nothing worth having comes easy.

When looking at the IHC, its easy to fall behind on your goals and reqs. And it's even easier to stay behind. To stop trying is to go gentle, and that's the wrong way to approach it. That's part of the reason why I chose to memorize this poem. It's a constant reminder to me to keep up the effort when trying to achieve something.

If anyone wants to read the full poem, here it is;

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.