High Standing

CYRANO:
What would you have me do?
Seek for the patronage of some great man,
And like a creeping vine on a tall tree
Crawl upward, where I cannot stand alone?
No thank you! Dedicate, as others do,
Poems to pawnbrokers? Be a buffoon
In the vile hope of teasing out a smile
On some cold face? No thank you! Eat a toad
For breakfast every morning? Make my knees
Callous, and cultivate a supple spine, —
Wear out my belly groveling in the dust?
No thank you! Scratch the back of any swine
That roots up gold for me? Tickle the horns
Of Mammon with my left hand, while my right
Too proud to know his partner’s business,
Takes in the fee? No thank you! Use the fire
God gave me to burn incense all day long
Under the nose of wood and stone? No thank you!
Shall I go leaping into ladies’ laps
And licking fingers? — or — to change the form —
Navigating with madrigals for oars,
My sails full of the sighs of dowagers?
No thank you! Publish verses at my own
Expense? No thank you! Be the patron saint
Of a small group of literary souls
Who dine together every Tuesday? No,
I thank you! Shall I labor night and day
To build a reputation on one song,
And never write another? Shall I find
True genius only among Geniuses.
Palpitate over little paragraphs,
And struggle to insinuate my name
In columns of the Mercury?
No thank you! Calculate, scheme, be afraid,
Love more to make a visit than a poem,
Seek introductions, favors, influences? —
No thank you! No thank you! And again
No thank you! — But . . .
To sing, to laugh, to dream,
To sing in my own way and be alone,
Free, with an eye to see things as they are,
A voice that means manhood — to cock my hat
Where I choose — At a word, a Yes, a No,
To fight — to write. To travel any road
Under the sun, under the stars, nor doubt
If fame or fortune lie beyond the bourne —
Never to make a line I have not heard
In my own heart; yet, with all modesty
To say: “My soul, be satisfied with flowers,
With fruit, with weeds even; but gather them
In the one garden you may call your own.”
So, when I win some triumph, by some chance,
Render no share to Caesar — in a word,
I am too proud to be a parasite,
And if my nature wants the germ that grows
Towering to heaven like the mountain pine,
Or like the oak, sheltering multitudes —
I stand, not high it may be — but alone!....
— Edmund Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac, Act II, Scene 2. VIII.


ROXANE:
If that be true —
And when that moment comes to you and me —
What words will you? . . .
CYRANO: [speaking for Christian who is courting Roxane]
All those, all those, all those
That blossom in my heart, I’ll fling to you —
Armfuls of loose bloom! Love, I love beyond
Breath, beyond reason, beyond loves own power
Of loving! Your name is like a golden bell
Hung in my heart; and when I think of you,
I tremble, and the bell swings and rings —
“Roxane!” . . .
“Roxane!” . . . along my veins, “Roxane!” . . .
— Edmund Rostand, Ibid., Act III.


     Often people attempt to live their lives backwards: They try to have more things, or more money, in order to do more of what they want, so that they will be happier.
     The way it actually works is the reverse. You must first be who you really are, then do what you need to do, in order to have what you want.

The purpose of creative visualization is:
To connect us with our beingness
To help us focus and facilitate our doingness
To increase and expand our havingness
— Shakti Gawain, Creative Visualization, p. 36.