The Hamlet Project

I aspire to tender myself more dearly.
Sometimes life can be a series of occasions to diminish myself
To deny my truth
To contain my body
My emotions
My desires and impulses
And we get so good at denying, so very good
At pretending that we are not what we are
That we forget what we were pretending
And we insult the secret parts of ourselves
Beat ourselves up for the thin-ness of our disguise.
But to tender myself dearly
Seems even nicer than simply treating myself with kindness
Finding tenderness, dear tenderness for my own self
Conjures up a motherly version of myself
Wrapping a child version of me in a soft blanket
Stroking her hair and singing her loving lullabies.
Here, though, I suspect that Polonius is not
Thinking of wrapping his daughter up in a blanket,
(Though maybe that would protect her from this danger he perceives)
Given that he’s been talking about money so far – he’s likely
Playing on the legal tender idea
For which one could pay dear.
A metaphor that was tender and sweet
Becomes an exploration about worth and value,
Becomes about her dowry almost.
Is tendering her father a fool
Bankrupting him somehow?
Or is the poor phrase an old vaudeville standard
The punchline of the hour, the catchphrase –
The “Where’s the beef?” of the Danish court.