I worshipped dead men for their strength, forgetting I was

Hearken, O seekers of truth, to the words of Vita Sackville-West, who confessed: “I worshipped dead men for their strength, forgetting I was strong.” In this cry of the soul, she unveils both the awe we hold for those who came before us and the blindness we sometimes suffer to our own power. Her words are both a lament and a revelation: that in bowing too deeply before the greatness of others, we risk neglecting the strength that burns within ourselves.

The origin of her words lies in Sackville-West’s own life as a writer, poet, and woman navigating a world shaped by patriarchal traditions. Surrounded by the towering legacies of “dead men” —the poets, thinkers, and rulers of centuries past—she felt their shadow press heavily upon her. Like many in her era, she revered their voices, their accomplishments, their strength. Yet she realized that this reverence came at a cost: in glorifying them, she diminished herself, forgetting that she too carried power, vision, and the ability to create.

The deeper meaning is clear: the human heart often places others on pedestals, especially those who have been enshrined by history. We are taught to bow before the greatness of ancestors, leaders, or idols. But in this bowing, we sometimes lose sight of our own stature. Sackville-West’s words remind us that strength is not inherited from the past alone—it dwells in the present, within us. To worship only others is to forget one’s own divine flame.

History echoes this lesson. Think of Mary Wollstonecraft, who rose against centuries of male-dominated philosophy. Surrounded by the voices of “dead men” proclaiming women’s weakness, she answered with her Vindication of the Rights of Woman. She refused to forget her own strength, and in doing so, changed the tide of thought for generations. Or consider Harriet Tubman, born into slavery, who could have bowed before the power of those who enslaved her. Instead, she remembered her own strength and became a deliverer of hundreds. Their lives prove Sackville-West’s revelation true: worship without action binds, but remembrance of self frees.

Emotionally, the words cut deep, for they mirror the struggle of many souls who undervalue themselves. How often do we gaze upon the monuments of the past and whisper, “I can never be as they were”? How often do we bow before tradition, genius, or authority, forgetting that within us lies the same fire? Sackville-West’s lament becomes a call to courage: honor the past, but do not be enslaved by it. Recognize the strength of others, but never forget your own.

The lesson is timeless: learn from the “dead men” and honor their legacy, but do not let reverence turn to idolatry. The wisdom of the past is a foundation, not a ceiling. Build upon it with your own voice, your own vision, your own strength. To forget your strength is to betray your gift; to remember it is to continue the living stream of greatness.

O seeker of wisdom, take this teaching into your life. Do not waste your days bowing in worship before others, no matter how noble their deeds. Learn from them, yes, but rise in your own power. Let their strength awaken yours, not overshadow it. For you too are strong, and your life is the battlefield where your courage must be proved.

Finally, let this truth endure across the ages: the greatness of the past should inspire, not diminish. As Vita Sackville-West proclaimed, worship of others must never blind us to our own power. Honor the dead, but do not forget the living flame within yourself. For the strength you seek is not buried in tombs, but alive in your heart, waiting to be remembered.