Carpe Diem

Born in the Consulship of Cotta and Torquatus (65BC) the poet we now know as Horace lived through the greatest era of Roman History.  In the year he was born Pompey Magnus was at the very height of his power.  He was fighting Tigranes in Armenia and Mithridates the Great.  Julius Caesar was Consul in Horace’s second year of life, and Cicero was consul in his third year.

He lived through the two Civil wars that defined the boundary between Republican Rome and Imperial Rome.  Too young to participate in the Civil War of Julius Caesar.  He found himself on the wrong side in the Octavian civil war at the Battle of Philippi (42BC) where he was on the losing side with Brutus and Cassius.

Luckily Horace was favoured by Maecenas, Octavians right hand man and an avid patron of the arts.  Horace became an Imperial court poet under Augustus.  He was in the inner circle during the creation of the Roman Empire.  He saw the young Octavian rise to become Princeps and then Augustus.

So, as it is your birthday, Happy Birthday Horace.  Seize the day!

 

Ode I-XI “Carpe Diem”; by Quintus Horatius Flaccus

Ask not Leuconoë for we never know
what fate the gods grant, your fate or mine.
Waste no time on futile Babylonian astrological reckonings.
Better by far to suffer what comes
whether Jupiter grants us more winters or if this, our last
is stripped away like those cliffs by the Tyrrhenian sea.
Be wise, mix the wine, life is short, temper your long term ambitions.
Time is envious of this moment, even as we speak: Seize the day, trust not to tomorrow.

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Today’s the day, take a risk.

Bishop-June-Osborne-by-Huw-Riden-web-opt

Bishop June Osborne

The title of today’s post comes from my current favourite podcast:  Risk, True Tales Boldly Told, presented by Kevin Allison.  Check out Risk Podcast

Each episode ends with his incitement, “Today’s the Day, Take a Risk”

I was back up in Dublin today to my old commuting stomping ground, just for a day.  As I sailed through the City Centre on the light rail I observed the many faces of misery, the grey sad commuters shuffling to their daily grind.  The hundreds of slack jawed automatons dreading another mind numbing day.  It always makes me break a smile and thank my lucky stars that I enjoy my health, my work, my life.

Then, through the zombie hoard burst a vision of vitality, a young pretty woman, face a sheen of sweat, running hard to the office, with a huge smile pasted all over her face.  Loving every step of her run.  She was racing the Luas Red Line into the City Centre.  Each time she caught the train at a stop was another mini victory.

“There” I said “I am not the only sucker for punishment”.  Love life, live life, risk life, grasp it with both hands.  Never wish away a day, not even a bad day.  There are too few to waste. Carpe Diem.

 

Warning; by Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
with a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
and satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
and run my stick along the public railings
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick flowers in other people’s gardens
and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at a go
or only bread and pickle for a week
and hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
nad pay our rent and not swear in the street
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
when suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.