Rage, rage against the dying of the light

Earlier this week, I read this post.

We are often our own worst critics. It's a role we fall into, sometimes for bad reasons, but also sometimes for good reasons, like realizing our effort just isn't good enough yet.

It's much harder to take the role of your own best supporter. To slap both hands against your cheeks, blow out a big breath of air, stand up and get ready to take another hit in the stomach. To still believe that things will get better, that the world will change, that dreams come true and that, deep down, people are good.

"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."

I read Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas when I was a kid and the poem has always stayed with me.

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Them's fightin' words. Even as a kid, I recognized that.

There are times in everyone's life when, it doesn't matter who's around you or what they say or do, you have to be the one to stand up and believe.

When even that seems too hard, just concentrate on standing. On getting your feet under you, one muscle twitch at a time.

I'm not necessarily talking about writing, it could be anything. From a stutter of self-doubt to the smothering listlessness of true depression.

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

This line doesn't necessarily have to be talking about death. It can be any negativity that brings you down and makes you want to give up.

Life is tough, but it also provides you with the chance to meet other people, to gain new wisdom, new hope and a rush of fresh adrenaline to get you upright again when you need to be. Even if you're meeting that person through the lines of a poem they wrote long before you were born.

So tell me your fightin' words.

What helps you fight gravity when you're flat on your face and feeling so tired that you don't ever want to get up again? Were they words that someone gave you as a gift, or did you find them on your own (like I did) when I wasn't even looking for them?

Incidentally, my favourite line of that poem is: "Wild men who caught and sung the sun in flight"