Cut out into little stars

Cut out into little stars

I was no more than 25 the first time I read these lines in an essay written by a father mourning the loss of his child after a long and heartbreaking illness. They certainly made an impression. 

Somehow I failed to notice where they came from, missed that they were spoken by a love-struck young girl or that this poetry came from one of most famous plays of all time.

I have thought of these words many times over the decades since and they came back to me as I took in the news of the recent death of a good man: the sudden silence, the clarity of the unreachable stars in the cold sky, the unbridgeable gap.

 I find these lines from the most romantic of plays very comforting in their simplicity. 

“When he shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night

And pay no worship to the garish sun.”

― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act lll, Scene 2 

Macbeth

I saw many of the Shakespearean plays as a child but certainly not Macbeth. I suspect it was deemed to be unsuitable, what with all the death both bloody murder, despairing madness and suicide.

It continues to elude me why this play was assigned to teenagers in their high school English programs after the happy sunshine, enchantment and fun of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and as a warm up to King Lear. 

As a 15 year old, I found the witches entertaining but unconvincing, Macbeth irrational and Lady Macbeth her own worst enemy. Having passed the course, I wanted nothing more to do with the whole miserable bunch of murderous Scottish depressives in their dark cold castle.

Perhaps Macbeth is meant for older people who have lived more years and seen enough of life to better understand what the play speaks to: that greed and envy could lead to hatred and an impassioned justification for violence wildly beyond the scope of the people we believe ourselves to be.

Another mystery: why would Shakespeare give his character the name of a real Scottish 11th century king? Mac Bethad mac Findláech (known s Macbeth in English) killed Duncan, not after a dinner party but in battle, a well-worn path to power and was himself killed fourteen years later by Malcolm Canmore, Duncan’s son (later Malcolm III). His rule “was marked by efficient government and the promotion of Christianity” (bbc.co.uk). He was a good king, not a madman consumed by illegitimate greed.

To be continued….

Macbeth

Juliet

Most people know who Juliet is, even those who don’t go to the theatre, 

The name has become a synonym for all the bright optimism, and headlong passion our golden youths when everything seems within reach and every sense is turned on high

I remember the vivid clarity of city parks in spring as I strode past them on my walk to school in the mornings as well as the sound and colour of fresh leaves as they shook in the warm wind of an ordinary day. I remember liking how well my body worked and how fast I could run. Music was brilliant, even food tasted better, emotions and feelings never stronger.

The thing is, I don’t think I’m unusual in the vividness of my memories — I suspect we can all summon these distant echoes though, of course, my parks and leaves, tastes and loves are different to yours. If we try, we can conjure up the magic of being young and hopeful which is why we don’t scold Juliet for her reckless plunge into life. We are on her side, faces toward the brightness of buoyant belief, and away from the inevitable crushing of the passion that gave her decisions flight.

The realist in me knows that Juliet is just a name like any other but the eternal youth in me perks up whenever I meet a Juliet, 

We hired a lovely young woman, described by one of the guests as “Botticelli-like”  to play her harp — yes, a harp! — at our house for a few friends in honour of the New Year.: our very own Juliet sitting by the window on a winter’s afternoon filling the house with such gentle beauty.

“ But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun."
(Romeo, Act 2 Scene 1)

Little but fierce

For Maddy,

Billy has a way of turning up and saying exactly the right thing when I find myself in a tight corner, even though he’s been dead for hundreds of years.

Today, this quote from A Midsummer Night’s dream (1597) was on my mind.

Here’s to you, Maddy, wrap yourself in the warmth of this thought and be well (and happy and brave and …)

Billy and me

I have the best of intentions around New Year’s resolutions. Every year, I dream up a list of Very Good Ideas which I quietly proclaim and manage to forget all about by mid-January.

This year, I have decided to tackle a more manageable learning project instead of the usual lifestyle change or addition:  2019 will be my year to finally read  Shakespeare. 

He  turns out to have been a busy guy: 37 plays, 157 sonnets and two long narrative poems. 

I will start with the plays and a few reliable guides: a famous Yale professor of English, assorted members of the Royal Shakespearean Company (UK) and my own childhood memories of seeing many of the plays performed on stage. 

Call to Arms (or Invitation to the Waltz)

January 1, 2019


A new year beckons, fresh and unsullied. The door is open a crack. The trick is to bring nothing from the old year, however dear or cherished that thought or habit might be, however right that old judgement felt.


It’s a new day, a fresh slate and everyone gets a pass. The way forward might go to the left (where the river is running rather quickly) or turn sharply to the right and disappear into the darker, unknown reaches of the forest: no matter. This is the year not to listen to the sensible, or go exactly along familiar paths.










As has been said by many braver people, “What could possibly go wrong?”

Time to open the door and find out…