Our "Seven Ages," according to Shakespeare

Here lies the history of humankind .... well, sort of, anyway. This oil on canvas is entitled, "Seven Ages of Man," and was painted by William Mulready in 1837/1838. Mulready was an Irish genre painter who lived in London. He created the piece using a description of the ages of man by William Shakespeare in his play, "As You Like It," written in 1599 and first published in 1623. Read on, if you wish to learn those ages.

 

In my never-ending quest to confuse both myself and the world, here is some music I enjoy: A medley of the "best damn female guitarists the world has to offer." My only question is where were girls like this when I was a teenager? "House of the Rising Sun," played on pan flutes .... and a metal guitar version of the theme from, "The Last of the Mohicans."

 

Each of us is a player on the stage of life

 

I have written here a few times that one of my favorite books and one of my favorite book titles is, "Not Forever on Earth."

 

The book is about civilizations of the past which rose and thrived and fell in Mexico. It is a study of the great prehistoric cultures and the early civilizations found there: The Olmec, the Toltec, the Aztec and the Maya. Shirley Gorenstein, an archaeologist / an university professor / a writer, was the author. Reading this book initially stemmed from my interest in archaeology.

 

The reason I like the book and, specifically, like its title, is because it is a reminder that we are transitory. Everything about life is transitory. Our earth / our solar system / our universe .... each is and all are transitory .... absolutely everything.

 

We are born, we mature (in a theoretical manner of speaking). Most of us never know when the switch will flick and when or how it will be lights out for us so, why do we waste our time making ourselves and others unhappy? Why do we waste our time killing each other figuratively and literally?

 

All of us are guilty of doing "evil," at least in a figurative sense. I suppose it is a "good gene / bad gene" sort of thing. Genetic inheritance can create saints and monsters. Fortunately, most of us drift somewhere between, acting out our lives almost in a daze.

 

William Shakespeare said it best, perhaps, when he wrote in Act II Scene VII of the play, "As You Like It:"

 

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances ....

 

Through the voice of Jaques, Shakespeare went on to write a lengthy monologue:

 

And one man in his time plays many parts,

 His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,

 Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.

 Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel

 And shining morning face, creeping like snail

 Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,

 Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

 Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,

 Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,

 Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

 Seeking the bubble reputation

 Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,

 In fair round belly with good capon lined,

 With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

 Full of wise saws and modern instances;

 And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts

 Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,

 With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;

 His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide

 For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,

 Turning again toward childish treble, pipes

 And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,

 That ends this strange eventful history,

 Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

 Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

 

That sort of says it all .... does it not?