I remember having waves of nausea (I'm only being slightly hyperbolic) at this comic when I first saw it many years ago:
While Jason Fox has his geek cred residing firmly in the Math and Science zip code, mine is just off Henley Street in Stratford-upon-Avon. I may have mentioned before that I use the hashtag #shakespeareiseverywhere to document all the places that I find the Bard in my day-to-day life. It's not proprietary--others have used it, of course, both before I "coined it" and as time goes on. Still, I throw that around any time I see a reference, whether that's in a museum, a quote, or anything else.
In other words, you replace the word "math" in that comic above with "Shakespeare", and you have...well, me. I see Shakespeare everywhere, and I have to admit, it's probably a little unhealthy. Three instances, all from yesterday.
Instance the first: The lesson was on how Christ can help people who suffer from anxiety or depression. I was enjoying the lesson, in particular because I struggle with depression--and actually was, at that time, having a bad time with it. The speaker said that she believed Satan utilized the fears and sadness inside of us to make us feel worthless and suicidal--in short, he takes advantage of mental illness to make people miserable.
As I often do, I jotted down my notes as the speaker went along. I find it a way to prevent falling asleep or fiddling on my phone, though I know a lot of people may not know that I'm getting much out of their lessons. Anyway, as I was doodling, her comments reminded me of something from Hamlet. My wife was watching as I flipped out of the notetaking app, into my web browser, and then went to the Complete Works of Shakespeare homepage. A few seconds later, I had found the quote I was after:
The quote itself is essentially what the speaker was talking about, and though the context of the quote isn't really in line with the lesson, it was the perfect sentiment for what she was discussing. If there's a Satan who can manipulate emotions, then he's very potent indeed with this Bardolator's weakness and melancholy.
Instance the second: The lesson went over time by a couple of minutes. It was obvious that the children of the ward had been released on time, however, because the door kept creaking open, then shut, as the kids peeked in, trying to see if they could see their parents. As soon as our lesson ended and we were dismissed, a veritable horde of younglings swarmed through the doors, each shrieking "Mommy! Daddy!" as if they'd been separated by war and walls and years of deprivation, instead of it being only two hours since they were last together.
The sound was as you'd imagine--a sonic example of Milton's pandemonium--with kids flitting back and forth, getting under foot, and generally being loud and obnoxious. You know, being kids.
As they swarmed, I leaned over to Gayle and said, "This reminds me of a Shakespeare quote: 'Hell is empty/And all the devils are here'" (The Tempest 1.2). She laughed and nodded. It was the perfect quote to describe what we were experiencing.
Instance the third: My friend asked me to cut a version of Hamlet. I'm not sure if I did it the way he hoped, but I was quick to tackle the dramaturgical problem of reducing the 4 hour behemoth into something you could stage in a little more than 90 minutes.
Yesterday, knowing he needed the new cut sooner rather than later, I spent nearly two hours combing through the play, trimming, cutting, and excising aspects of the play to keep it moving and to focus on the action, yet maintaining the poetry that we expect from any production of Hamlet. I spent time that I was originally planning on putting toward reading some other works, but instead happily postponed reading and eating (until Gayle called me down for breakfast...I had forgotten to eat before starting) to get the job done.
Even on my day of rest, I see the Bard lurking about my life. And that's pretty awesome. The more you learn of the Bard, the more you see. After all, Shakespeare is everywhere.
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| That last comment, tho... |
In other words, you replace the word "math" in that comic above with "Shakespeare", and you have...well, me. I see Shakespeare everywhere, and I have to admit, it's probably a little unhealthy. Three instances, all from yesterday.
Instance the first: The lesson was on how Christ can help people who suffer from anxiety or depression. I was enjoying the lesson, in particular because I struggle with depression--and actually was, at that time, having a bad time with it. The speaker said that she believed Satan utilized the fears and sadness inside of us to make us feel worthless and suicidal--in short, he takes advantage of mental illness to make people miserable.
As I often do, I jotted down my notes as the speaker went along. I find it a way to prevent falling asleep or fiddling on my phone, though I know a lot of people may not know that I'm getting much out of their lessons. Anyway, as I was doodling, her comments reminded me of something from Hamlet. My wife was watching as I flipped out of the notetaking app, into my web browser, and then went to the Complete Works of Shakespeare homepage. A few seconds later, I had found the quote I was after:
the devil hath powerI plucked out the quote, pasted it into my notes, and was back on track in under a minute. My wife could only laugh a little to see the fact that I not only could get there so quickly, but that I had obviously been on that website before, since some of the links were purple, showing I had visited them before.
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
As he is very potent with such spirits,
Abuses me to damn me: (2.2)
The quote itself is essentially what the speaker was talking about, and though the context of the quote isn't really in line with the lesson, it was the perfect sentiment for what she was discussing. If there's a Satan who can manipulate emotions, then he's very potent indeed with this Bardolator's weakness and melancholy.
Instance the second: The lesson went over time by a couple of minutes. It was obvious that the children of the ward had been released on time, however, because the door kept creaking open, then shut, as the kids peeked in, trying to see if they could see their parents. As soon as our lesson ended and we were dismissed, a veritable horde of younglings swarmed through the doors, each shrieking "Mommy! Daddy!" as if they'd been separated by war and walls and years of deprivation, instead of it being only two hours since they were last together.
The sound was as you'd imagine--a sonic example of Milton's pandemonium--with kids flitting back and forth, getting under foot, and generally being loud and obnoxious. You know, being kids.
As they swarmed, I leaned over to Gayle and said, "This reminds me of a Shakespeare quote: 'Hell is empty/And all the devils are here'" (The Tempest 1.2). She laughed and nodded. It was the perfect quote to describe what we were experiencing.
Instance the third: My friend asked me to cut a version of Hamlet. I'm not sure if I did it the way he hoped, but I was quick to tackle the dramaturgical problem of reducing the 4 hour behemoth into something you could stage in a little more than 90 minutes.
Yesterday, knowing he needed the new cut sooner rather than later, I spent nearly two hours combing through the play, trimming, cutting, and excising aspects of the play to keep it moving and to focus on the action, yet maintaining the poetry that we expect from any production of Hamlet. I spent time that I was originally planning on putting toward reading some other works, but instead happily postponed reading and eating (until Gayle called me down for breakfast...I had forgotten to eat before starting) to get the job done.
Even on my day of rest, I see the Bard lurking about my life. And that's pretty awesome. The more you learn of the Bard, the more you see. After all, Shakespeare is everywhere.