If you’re not a Shakespeare person but can tolerate reading one of his plays, I highly recommend you start with Hamlet. The story is intense, inspiring, and layered with meaning—and it contains many commonly used and profound sayings (in case you’re trying to impress someone with your newfound sophistication). It may take two or three readings to get the most out of it, but it’s worth the undertaking.
I read it initially as a senior in high school and had no idea what was going on beyond the simple arch of a typical tragedy where the hero suffers a catastrophic loss, responds to that loss, and fails miserably. (My English teacher informed us at the outset that there would be no Hollywood ending, but I was pleasantly surprised at how far in the other direction endings could go.)
I had to get older and suffer “slings and arrows” of my own to realize that the beauty of Hamlet is not what the titular character suffers but what he learns about the nature of existence and the role of the individual in an unjust and chaotic world. In short, success, happiness, and safety are not guaranteed—not even for the wealthy and privileged. Let’s recall that Hamlet was a favored son, a prince, a warrior, and an intellectual. He was witty, popular, and seemingly untouchable—until the mysterious and untimely death of his father and the fateful discovery that his mother and uncle were behind it.
Once the truth is revealed, Hamlet remains witty and popular but falls into what would now be described as an existential crisis and/or major depression that turns him into an object rather than a subject. All of the sudden, this once powerful man is rendered helpless. Things are happening to him; he is not making things happen. He’s lost control of both his internal and external reality. This is the central tragedy of the story
I’m sure many of us can relate to Hamlet’s plight—I certainly can. There’s little from the last five years that gives me hope that the next five will be better. I have often felt like a pitiable creature instead of a man—unable to accomplish even basic tasks for days at a time. Despite my many attempts to reach out to friends, family, colleagues, and strangers, precious few reach back. Most want to stay at arm’s length or farther away because this is easier than grappling with matters of meaning and existence, such as the implications of Hamlet’s famous soliloquy.
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them.
Of course, I’m not advocating suicide here. My re-examination of those oft-cited words is to consider a more literal interpretation of the word “opposing” than traditional Shakespearean scholars do. I’ve counseled more than a few suicidal individuals, and none of them were able to convince me that they had done everything in their power to oppose “outrageous fortune.” Most were looking for an easy way out—easier at least. I’m not trying to sound callous or dismissive: Choosing to face the relentless demands of life or choosing to opt out is never easy. But most people are like Hamlet in that they struggle to face their personal circumstances head on more than they struggle with anything else. I challenge anyone to argue otherwise.
It’s important to note (spoiler alert) that Hamlet took the hard road. He ultimately decided not to kill himself and to literally “take arms” against most of the people responsible for his father’s murder. It didn’t necessarily end well, but it did restore Hamlet’s sense of order and control—if only for a moment. Most importantly, though, Hamlet became the subject of his own story once again and, unlike his father, died on his feet.
One of my favorite 20th century thinkers, Jean-Paul Sartre, challenged the idea that guided my childhood and early adulthood: The comforting notion that events are inherently purposeful—that God is in control or that some grand plan is being implemented. This is not an exclusively religious view: I know many secular people who ascribe some sort of order or rationale to "the universe.” This to me is a dangerous idea if taken too far because it eliminates the need for dramatic action on the part of the individual.
If “the universe” is rationale and just, then why do I need to fight back against DOGE or Trump or my pigheaded boss or the scumbag on the subway who harassed my wife? Why do I need to take control of my own destiny if hidden forces will guarantee it? This is common thinking, but it’s childish, lazy, and cowardly. And there’s no evidence at all that it’s true.
So, I say: “to thine own self be true.” Take control. Put your stamp on the world. Share your thoughts. Share your feelings. Take action whenever your body and soul demand it. Don’t surrender before the fight has begun.
In short, be more like Hamlet.
To loosely quote Polonius: “Hamlet may seem mad, but there is a method to it.”
And if you’re feeling despondent, remember that “the cat will mew, and the dog will have his day.” (If you don’t know what this means, ask ChatGPT like the rest of us.)
Go have your day.