ChristopherColumbus
Master Don Juan
Yes, make sure your ideas are always subordinated to your instincts. Ideas are fallible, instincts are what make you you. All of us have a deep down desire for 'the one' even if we don't admit it. The age-old ideal of Unity still reverberates within the soul.
Yet we don't live in the past, so some armor [game... amor/amour] may be required for your relations with women. Sadly, they are no longer the fair maidenly creatures they once were [just as we are no longer chivalrous] but have shape-shifted, with the desert of the times, into voracious wild beasts.
Avuncular Advice
Learn to develop rustic tastes -
Not overly refined,
[why ask of art totality,
Which is religion’s line]
Nor the dumbed-down pleasure of brutes –
To make existence kind.
Neither a bookworm nor dunce be
But keep a leisured read,
For sturdy bookends of the mind
When life’s emotion bleeds;
A canonical companion
When comes the quiet need.
Neither monk nor socialite be,
Enjoy your solitude,
Think then act, and never react,
And never be a prude;
Enjoy with friends some merriment,
Don't sit alone and brood.
Make sure to balance faith and doubt
By which to what we bind;
Where instincts flow to natural ends
There doubtlessly allied,
While labyrinthine thought will wind
Through fabricated mind.
Last, considering ambition,
Your goal on God’s green earth;
Whether the pursuit of happiness,
Or of a humble hearth...
With a cultivated garden
And some domestic mirth.
Yet we don't live in the past, so some armor [game... amor/amour] may be required for your relations with women. Sadly, they are no longer the fair maidenly creatures they once were [just as we are no longer chivalrous] but have shape-shifted, with the desert of the times, into voracious wild beasts.
Avuncular Advice
Learn to develop rustic tastes -
Not overly refined,
[why ask of art totality,
Which is religion’s line]
Nor the dumbed-down pleasure of brutes –
To make existence kind.
Neither a bookworm nor dunce be
But keep a leisured read,
For sturdy bookends of the mind
When life’s emotion bleeds;
A canonical companion
When comes the quiet need.
Neither monk nor socialite be,
Enjoy your solitude,
Think then act, and never react,
And never be a prude;
Enjoy with friends some merriment,
Don't sit alone and brood.
Make sure to balance faith and doubt
By which to what we bind;
Where instincts flow to natural ends
There doubtlessly allied,
While labyrinthine thought will wind
Through fabricated mind.
Last, considering ambition,
Your goal on God’s green earth;
Whether the pursuit of happiness,
Or of a humble hearth...
With a cultivated garden
And some domestic mirth.