On being calm

[eye_of_a_cat]

When:

[amount of work] > [time to do it]
[not enough time to do work] = [huge amount of stress]
[huge amount of stress] = [badly-done work]
[importance of doing work well] > [importance of meeting initial deadline]...

Then the compromise turns out not to be so bad after all.

So, some poems of people who manage to cope a little better, both of which seem to work as a nice antidote to oh-God-it's-not-perfect-so-I'm-the-worst-student-ever stress:


G. K. Chesterton, 'Gold Leaves'

Lo! I am come to autumn,
When all the leaves are gold;
Grey hairs and golden leaves cry out
The year and I are old.

In youth I sought the prince of men,
Captain in cosmic wars,
Our Titan, even the weeds would show
Defiant, to the stars.

But now a great thing in the street
Seems any human nod,
Where shift in strange democracy
The million masks of God.

In youth I sought the golden flower
Hidden in wood or wold,
But I am come to autumn,
When all the leaves are gold.


Christina Rossetti, 'In Progress'

Ten years ago it seemed impossible
That she should ever grow so calm as this,
With self-remembrance in her warmest kiss
And dim dried eyes like an exhausted well.
Slow-speaking when she has some fact to tell,
Silent with long-unbroken silences
Centred in self yet not unpleased to please,
Gravely monotonous like a passing bell.
Mindful of drudging daily common things,
Patient at pastime, patient at her work,
Wearied perhaps but strenuous certainly.
Sometimes I fancy we may one day see
Her head shoot forth seven stars from where they lurk
And her eyes lightnings and her shoulders wings.