In high school I had to memorize this monologue from Shakespeare's, "As You Like It." I remember absolutely NOTHING about the play, but this previously memorized passage crept back into my mind today. I could only really remember the first few lines, but the meaning I remembered more clearly. I think this passage speaks mountains about the stages of our lives. One day we have our babes in arms, the next we are sending them away to college. One day we are delightfully presented with crayon drawings and construction paper hearts, soon after we are hoping for a card in the mail or a phone call. Bottom line - it goes really fast. Does time go faster the older we become? It sure seems that way. My mom always says, "they are only little once, just let them do it..." How do we capture everyday moments? My guess is that if we really appreciate what we have and love the lives that we lead, perhaps these everyday moments will tattoo themselves on our hearts. Perhaps when our minds forget, our souls will remember.
"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' brow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lin'd,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything." — Jaques (Act II, Scene VII, lines 139-166)
The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and the heart of the child…{ralph.waldo.emerson}
