Desiderata, in homage to Ken Hubbard

Yesterday I was torn about whether to attend the funeral of man who had hired me many summers before as a lost and forlorn teenager. I wrestled with whether to stay at work because I am so busy or go to pay respects to this man and show his family my support. I thought back to the way I was when I walked into the shop of Ken and Roz Hubbard. Trying to find my way. Trying to understand where I fit in. And only after being coaxed by a dear friend that I should go, ten minutes before the funeral was to begin, I rushed out of the office to get to the church. I made it just as the service began.

And once the service began, I understood exactly why I was there. Exactly why I had been led to the place of where the family and friends of Ken Hubbard had come to pay respects to this complex yet poetic man. I realized I was being led to remember when I first began to discover the true possibility that existed for me. The more that existed outside of the narrow confines of the world I had grown up in.

Ken was an avid lecturer. Always going on about life and what we were meant to be doing but what he did for me, which I had somehow forgotten about or suppressed into the deepest recesses of my brain, was to introduce me to the poem, Desiderata. I only remembered when his son stood tall, handsome and full of poise and read the poem to the church. His dad’s favorite poem.

My whole body began to tingle as it joined with my essence self in remembrance of what that poem opened for me. Transporting me back to the time and place when Ken first introduced me to that poem. Told me to read its words and to remember them always. I remember thinking I had never read such beautiful and inspiring words. And I carried that poem with me wherever I went for the longest time. Because somehow it gave me hope. And yesterday it came back to me again through the man who introduced me to it in the first place some thirty plus years later. As if touched by the voice of an angel. And I felt great hope again.

And then his daughter got up and spoke with such elegance, grace and again with great poise about her father. Not painting him as an angel. Not sweetening who he was but explaining why he was the way he was and why it meant the world to her family to have a man so full of passion.  A man who helped to shape their passions and set them on the path their lives have taken.

And the funeral, the send off turned into a beautiful reminder to me that our children are impressionable. Their lives and personalities developing from what we expose them to. The examples we set through our actions. Not just our words.  And if they don’t get it from us, they will from someone else. That each person that comes into our lives, including our children, is there to teach us lessons about ourselves. And depending on how we build their foundations, our children will go out into the world full of love, grace and service or they will be broken, lost and sad.

I learnt from Ken’s service yesterday how important it is to teach my children by my actions not just by my words, how to go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

So I end in tribute to Ken and Roz who took me under their wing many, many years before, I dedicate this poem to you and to my family with the hope they will remember to live their lives as per:

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

© Max Ehrmann 1927

This poem helped me to understand I am here for a reason and I have a purpose. That I matter. No one had ever told me that before. So without knowing it at the time, Ken had set me on a new path of self discovery and spirituality I didn't even understand. And some thirty plus years later our lives have come full circle. His ending bringing me back to my beginning. Reminding me to continue to live passionately and peacefully. Full of grace and compassion.

Thank you Ken for helping me to start the journey of understanding I am important. That I matter.

RIP Ken Hubbard.