But Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leaves us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!
Many modern clichés emanate from literary past. We often hear the expression, "The best laid plans" - referring to plans gone awry, the pointlessness of expecting a particular result from a specific stratagem. We employ the words as a verbal shrug of the shoulders, as if to say, "Oh well - what are you gonna do?" when an an idea fails to pan out. The phrase comes from a line in a Robert Burns poem, "To a Mouse." (Burns, often referred to as Scotland's national poet, was born in 1759 and died 37 years later in 1796. "To a Mouse" was written in 1785.)
We often put so much of ourselves into our future plans that when reality inevitably differs from our minds' eye we are left to, or at least given, to lament the present. We lay the blame squarely on ourselves for the 'mistakes' we made in either creating or executing the plan. Many of us shoulder the failing as if we could or should be able to accurately predict the future. The lesson we fail to learn, heed or internalize is that despite our expectation to the contrary, we can't know what's going to happen and so can't rationally accept responsibility when the future differs from expectation. Yet we do this time and again. We habitually beat ourselves up for what we perceive as a personal failing rather than an immutable law of nature. Even a laboratory mouse learns how to avoid an electric shock after a few trials, but we humans seem unable to avoid this mental trap. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Shame on us.
Admittedly, it's hard to live life without occasionally feeling the pain of disappointment. But disappointment can only occur where expectations exist. There are some who would argue that if you don't have any expectations you can't be disappointed. They say that if you don't have your hopes up you can only be pleased by the unanticipated 'positive' result. And while there's truth in that, it also seems a muted way to pass through life. Indeed it is hope that makes us unique as mammals. We can imagine the future; we can dream big; we can strive for things that might otherwise seem beyond reach. Politicians thrive on hopes and dreams - and certainly we need them to. JFK dreamed of the moon, while Reagan pledged to make America great again. And Obama became president because he embodied hope and change - words that by definition allude to the future. (Before you rail against any politicians campaign promises, remember that the best laid plans....) Our difficult task is to live a meaningful life in which we understand the past, hope for the future and strive to have deep and abiding appreciation of the present.
In the last stanza of "To a Mouse" Burns writes that though the meager mouse has tribulations, it is the mouse who is actually blessed by living eternally in the present. The author, and by extension we humans, tend to look backward, often regretting choices made, actions taken, ruminating on the unalterable past. And if we're not living in the past, we're attempting to project a future we can't possibly know, too often with paralyzing angst and apprehension. While we know we can't plan the future, we spend an inordinate amount of time doing just that, trying to make it just so. The madness in replaying the past or projecting a unknown future is self-evident and part of the human condition - as Burns notes:
Still you are blest, compared with me!
The present only touches you:
But oh! I backward cast my eye,
On prospects dreary!
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess and fear!
The lesson, of course, is to do your best to live in and value the present. It really is all you ever have. Everything else only exists in your mind. The past is past and the future is future. The present is now. This moment. Discontentment, disappointment, disillusionment can only arise when a comparison is being made between the present and past, between the present and future. If one can truly dwell in the present, one finds there is only the now and the sense of peace and contentment that engenders the serenity we all crave - lasting happiness. Most of us have at least momentarily experienced this in nature. It was the night you paused and reflected on how incredibly bright the stars were. It was the vista you inhaled from a mountain top. Others of you have been brought to this place by the arresting beauty of music, of a singer's impossibly powerful or soulful voice. Athletes sometimes get there via a 'runners high." And in that moment of orgasm, you are most certainly not in the past or future.
I am not so naïve as to believe that this kind of zen equanimity is easily attained or maintained. I just think it's worth our while to habitually make the effort. The fact is you don't need to view or experience something seemingly magical or beautiful to benefit from the present All one really needs to do is learn - and practice - how to turn your brain's attention away from the past or future. Start small - take a closer look at the scenery, but don't think about it - just appreciate it. Focus for a time on the sensations in your body. Listen to your breathing, connect with your sense of touch. Be aware of when your mind drifts to events past or a future not yet experienced and actively pull yourself back to the moment. You won't be disappointed.
Burns Original Text
Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
Wi bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murdering pattle.
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth born companion
An' fellow mortal!
I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't.
Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's win's ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!
Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.
That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld.
But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
Still thou are blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!
Standard English Translation
Small, sleek, cowering, timorous beast,
O, what a panic is in your breast!
You need not start away so hasty
With hurrying scamper!
I would be loath to run and chase you,
With murdering plough-staff.
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
And justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth born companion
And fellow mortal!
I doubt not, sometimes, but you may steal;
What then? Poor beast, you must live!
An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves
Is a small request;
I will get a blessing with what is left,
And never miss it.
Your small house, too, in ruin!
It's feeble walls the winds are scattering!
And nothing now, to build a new one,
Of coarse grass green!
And bleak December's winds coming,
Both bitter and keen!
You saw the fields laid bare and wasted,
And weary winter coming fast,
And cozy here, beneath the blast,
You thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel plough past
Out through your cell.
That small bit heap of leaves and stubble,
Has cost you many a weary nibble!
Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,
Without house or holding,
To endure the winter's sleety dribble,
And hoar-frost cold.
But Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leaves us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!
Still you are blest, compared with me!
The present only touches you:
But oh! I backward cast my eye,
On prospects dreary!
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess and fear!
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1 comment:
We enjoyed your use of poetry as a jumping off point into the exploration of the modern struggle--finding peace and happiness as a result of simple presence rather than keeping pace with the American dream.
We're wondering if, as is the case with Ruth and I, this meditation calls the utility of certain daily practices into question. Things like the use of technology, the trappings of wealth and the confusing complexity of our social contracts, be they mortgages, bank accounts or political efforts).
I guess it's to say, how much of modern American life has become incompatible with Burns's poetic vision of peace and contentment? And if it's the case, just what to do in light of this observation.
I think it's a dialogue worth having. So thank you for facilitating this exchange.
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