Hamlet died today.
Every year, I dress all in black on the last day's discussion of Hamlet. Watch, tie, belt, shirt, pants--I'm dressed not only in mourning for the end of my unit on Shakespeare, but also for the end of the play, the death of Hamlet, and as an homage to the dark-clad prince of Denmark. Students who've passed my classes see me in the halls, offer condolences, yet smile to see doing that which I have done in other years.
The final discussion revolves around a quote that for a long time puzzled me, but now that I've looked at it closely so often, it instead gives me great hope and purpose. I feel that this quote, in significant and worthwhile ways, provides the purpose in life:
Thus the title of this post and the four words tucked into the middle of this short quote becomes a blueprint for the purpose of life: The readiness is all.
The inevitability of death--regardless of an afterlife--is the motivation and resignation that Hamlet gestures at. We will all die. If, however, we listen to Hamlet (and, by extension, Shakespeare), we get a profound sense of what to do with the time we have here, whether it be now, or to come: To prepare for stepping off this mortal coil. By working toward the goal of dying, in some senses, on our own terms, we get a stronger sense of purpose and meaning. Like a day in which you've fully seized its possibilities, so, too, is a life made richer, more meaningful, and of greater scope by virtue of having the realization of death** be, not something to be feared, but prepared for.
---
* Neal A. Maxwell: “In Gospel grammar, death is not an exclamation point, merely a comma.” This is the great hope that Christianity asserts, one that Hamlet does not include, despite his obvious Christian upbringing. One can read this as an apostasy on his part, or, as others do, the apotheosis of Hamlet in this moment.
** I don't know if it's this realization that has led nihilists and existentialists to embrace Hamlet as their Shakespearean poster child, but it's certainly possible. Still, I'm a Mormon and I find great meaning in this, so obviously it's not exclusively nihilistic. Then again, nothing is.
Every year, I dress all in black on the last day's discussion of Hamlet. Watch, tie, belt, shirt, pants--I'm dressed not only in mourning for the end of my unit on Shakespeare, but also for the end of the play, the death of Hamlet, and as an homage to the dark-clad prince of Denmark. Students who've passed my classes see me in the halls, offer condolences, yet smile to see doing that which I have done in other years.
The final discussion revolves around a quote that for a long time puzzled me, but now that I've looked at it closely so often, it instead gives me great hope and purpose. I feel that this quote, in significant and worthwhile ways, provides the purpose in life:
Augury is the idea of divination through watching birds, so there's an additional poignancy to adding the next bit of the line. Providence is not frequently used in Shakespeare or Elizabethan writing; it's a powerful word (part of the reason, no doubt, the Puritans used it for their home in Rhode Island), and used to great effect here. By calling out providence, associating it with the familiar refrain from Matthew about God being aware of a sparrow, Hamlet is in some ways rejecting the idea that God is in control. Instead, he asserts that the likelihood of "it" (meaning death) is absolute and inevitable. No matter how you look at it, death is the ultimate punctuation mark in the grammar of existence*.We defy augury: there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all: since no man knows aught of what he leaves, what is't to leave betimes? Let be.
Thus the title of this post and the four words tucked into the middle of this short quote becomes a blueprint for the purpose of life: The readiness is all.
The inevitability of death--regardless of an afterlife--is the motivation and resignation that Hamlet gestures at. We will all die. If, however, we listen to Hamlet (and, by extension, Shakespeare), we get a profound sense of what to do with the time we have here, whether it be now, or to come: To prepare for stepping off this mortal coil. By working toward the goal of dying, in some senses, on our own terms, we get a stronger sense of purpose and meaning. Like a day in which you've fully seized its possibilities, so, too, is a life made richer, more meaningful, and of greater scope by virtue of having the realization of death** be, not something to be feared, but prepared for.
---
* Neal A. Maxwell: “In Gospel grammar, death is not an exclamation point, merely a comma.” This is the great hope that Christianity asserts, one that Hamlet does not include, despite his obvious Christian upbringing. One can read this as an apostasy on his part, or, as others do, the apotheosis of Hamlet in this moment.
** I don't know if it's this realization that has led nihilists and existentialists to embrace Hamlet as their Shakespearean poster child, but it's certainly possible. Still, I'm a Mormon and I find great meaning in this, so obviously it's not exclusively nihilistic. Then again, nothing is.
Comments