St Josephs College - Footprints Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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(0 M ffl i Philosophy of Life BY no decision of our own. we come to be, and with less mideistandini; of its nature, death takes something away from us. Thus, between mystery and mystery there spans something we call life, a chain of vicissitudes and complexity. We know it only by its effects. We cannot solve it. In fact, were we able to understand it, its grip on us would be loosened ; the spur to live would lie gone, and in the absence of its fascination, we might be more willing to fling it aside, as we do with the secret that has. at last, been unfolded. But as it is. we are buoyed with the glamour of its unknowableness. Throiigh- out life, from time to time, we strike upon a plan, that we feel sure, this time, is going to baffle all disappointment, all strife. It will cut clear through the storm-vexed waters of experience to the beacon light of Success. W ith the ut- most precision, we guide our little skiff . But. when we think that we have com- pleted the last knot of the journey, we turn to view the difficulties surmounted, to find instead the wreck of our boasts. Perhaps, it is liecause we are creatures of whim that we are blind so often to the uncertainties of life. Ideals are for- ever beyond life — out there, somewhere, keeping the ruddy glow in the sunset. behind the horizon. Yet. vain are we always to dream that we can plan to reach them ! luirlv Youth is boldest in this pursuit. lie thinks .Xever. before have flowers blossomed till I came. Never have they been kissed with warmer glow of golden sun. This chirping, laughing, glittering world burst forth for me. Romance was made for me, and I for Romance. But shortly, he decides that never was such splendor more mud-spattered ; never were smiles more mocking or tears more flowing ; never was there a darker cloud, till he came. And. since I do not know what life is, I must resolve to do with it as best i can. There are inevitable things concerning life and I must decide how to meet them. The first is that happiness and sorrow are certain, no matter how long or brief life may be. While, unconsciously, we tend toward happiness, it is senseless either to seek after happiness or avoid sorrow. Pain and sorrow unseal the strength and beauty of the soul, long unknown. llap|)iness satiates. Tribulation brings one closer to living; ha])i)iness closer to illusion. Reflection on life prolongs it by many years. There, in the mind, is the world perfect, b ' .lsewhere. there is no joy more extravagant, no fame more un- envied. In the s])ace of a few seconds, a whole career may be lived. But, how much richer is the imaginative moment, when it arrests the present or revives the ]3ast or portends the future. One who gathers tinsel lives more briefly. lUinded by the garishness. all the jirecious reality lips by with inconceivable celerity. ' ilow time flies is the eiiitome of the philosophy of many |K-(iple. And lew think beyond the words. Their fast-fleeting time they spend more fieelingly. buving their eternity at an extravagant ])rice. Life brings contact with others. Many pass by, while others cling awhile— friends, we call them. Can we face life alone, without these friends? Yes, to be sure, we can. Hne mu.st i)art with friends, sooner or later. Life asks one to fight capably and alone. Dependence on others is ineffectual. I ' ricnds are to life as .salt is to the meal, not essential, but seasoning. While there is certainty of enough nourishnunl for me :ind of sbcllcv against adverse elements. I can live this life to the brim of ixpiricncc- in all its preparation. Preparation, 1 say, because, all life ' experiences are as i)roto types, strengthening one, for the last deci-ive act — that greatest venture of all, tiiat wait- just at the end of the last moment. To live is as to be walking along .|i.H -

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Lady And that ' s Dora of many A s, But I see you ' re wise to her vain ways. Now let ' s watch Flora who went to the I ' rdni. Dining and dancins ' with Jack and Tom. We see her yawning in class toda}-. Not a word of answer has she to say. See her droop, watch her wilt, Smiling coyly, her head a-tilt. The teacher who seeks to probe her knowledge I ' inds since the Prom she ' s forgot about college. Do you not think she ' s quite pathetic? Here ' s Nora — not a bit more magnetic. Noni (Apathetically lounging, doletull} ' sighing, drones) 1 don ' t know what ' s the matter with me this year. I can ' t seem to get down to work. I just can ' t study. It ' s awful ! I don ' t know a thing any- more. (Jh dear, I wish there were no school ! ' What ' s the assignment ? I don ' t even know what we ' re up to .... Lady Once more I must remove our boresonie friend, But surely you all know her trend. A classmate old, who I fear, Spends many a night and many a tear Laboring with lessons far ahead. And early next morning gets up from her loed. Hurries to school, and once she is there. Lounges and sighs and seems unaware. The last little doll has never said What in her mind you ' ve often read. Tlwra ( Sits with pencil in hand lightly poised over blank sheet of paper) Well, I ' ve got to write something for Loria this time — something original, something no one has ever done before. Clever, that ' s it ! That idea I had in class today. I wonder if anyone ever thought of that. Profound! Yes, it is philosophical. I wonder — should I have something riotously funny or something deep — something significant? Let ' s see. Lady ( removing dolls ) So my little dolls, your friends of old, A tale of vanities wisely unfold. Epilorjiic In ' anity Fair all things are sold And queer are the tales by venders tokl. If, perchance, when you ' re visiting there. The dolls you are shown — beware ! beware ! For you yourself may be in the revue And people stand and mock you, too. Then watch lest your lips in scorn be curled All kinds of people make up a world. M. RY LOFTUS, ' 29. ] C fflc€ ::C3= S=S - -4 U

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a s])ring Inxird. N ' ory .shorth-, ouf tiiicls liim ulf i)oisfd on the lirink of splashing into the coldest of waters. Just so, are we poised on the hrink of death. ' J ' hcre is nothing to do but draw a long breath and go ! . 11 of life ' s experiences are incomparable to that la t brief one. It is worth the anticipation. Aleanwhile, because I have to deal with life till that great moment comes, I can aim to make it worthwhile. There are lots of others to helpi and lots of good to be accomplished. Sorrows, regrets, losses, all are waiting. And, life will be inexorable in the doling. In the interim, I can take advantage of the good that comes within my reach, b ' ace sorrows and disappointments with a keen sense of what they can bring to cognizance; try to forgive mistakes in others and to forget my own — for worry over what cannot be redone is life ' s weightiest ball and chain. In this short life of ours, the intellect is cheated of a harvest — my sole regret. The truth that the mind craves is ever absent. Fields of thought scarcelv known, others never entered. A smattering of learning kindles the natural tendency of the soul toward knowledge. The brevity of life smothers it before it grows to existence. All other disturbances, in life, becf me mere incidents, by contrast. Life, with its basilisk and balm still lures, though the dearest moment it gave me, was, incidentally, the most sorrowful, and moments that I prized. 1 found to be weighted with deceit. All in all, I cling to life and hope with its surcease. it will prove to be the shadow of a greater reality. Youth shows but half — trust God; see all, nor be afraid! Frances McGuire, ' 29. j{ 14 )»••■•