RUDYARD KIPLING MEETS SOCIAL MEDIA

My interest in social media has been waning lately.
I could not quite pin down what it was that irritated me so much.

I log on, check notifications & then the newsfeed.
I am frequently engaged in contentious arguments from which it is hard to disengage without blocking the opponent.
Sometimes it feels as though twitter, in particular, has become a rabid hyena colony full to the brim with salivating predators waiting to chew your face off if you dare show it in their vicinity.

There are fine examples of racism, hatred & fear to scroll by ad tedium.
Amid a smattering of adverts a friendly or amusing tweet is like a diamond encrusted oasis in a corpse littered desert.

Chortling victors & bitter losers joust in an ugly display of competition.
A voice for co-operation & tolerance is quickly regarded as weak & worthy of distain.

Yes, social media has become a nasty experience that has released a demonic rage or two from me from time to time, I can tell you.
None of us are innocent, I am sure.
So I won't be hanging myself for it any time soon.

It is very hard to keep your cool when all around you are in turmoil - who was it who wrote about that?

It was Rudyard Kipling in his poem:

If...

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

That ought to fix my malaise.... until the next accusatory comment passes by, at least.

Author's twitter: https://twitter.com/2013Boodicca