“Hope” is the thing with feathers
Another week is coming to an end, another week where we find ourselves confronting more springboards for distress — on the pandemic, on the climate, on the political environment, and so many other areas of concern. On Steady, we have tried to put these issues into context, and we will continue to do so. But part of what we hope to accomplish with our community is finding ways to break through the cycles of gloom. For there are also reasons for hope, buoyed by the courageous actions and service of millions of our fellow citizens, and countless more around the globe.
With this in mind, I would like to share a source of inspiration. In troubled times, I often turn to poetry — an art form that evokes the pain and beauty, the hope and fear, the powerful crosscurrents that make us human. A personal favorite is by Emily Dickinson, verses that have brought me no shortage of comfort in the past. I know that contending with despair will always be part of life’s challenges. That means that hope, “the thing with feathers,” can be a motivating force that allows us to keep going.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers
Emily Dickinson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
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My favorite. A long read.
Hope is the Lighthouse that Guides Me Through the Dark
It's easy to get derailed. If you listen too long it will weaken you... and you'll find yourself diverted... No worries... Putting the wheels back on the rails is a doable task. I'm an old hand at it! ;)
When you get up in the morning do you read the news? Do you turn on the TV or the radio only to see brutality and cruelty that seems to be swelling like a cancer and leaves you stunned? Everywhere you look in the world there seems to be insanity that has an uneasy knot squirming in your gut?
It's not only in Syria, Croatia, Asia, a half dozen African countries, Mexico... Everywhere you look in our own land it seems you see a sickness of the soul and a blackness of the heart that has man turning on neighbor.
It would seem the world is gone mad and depravity has conquered civilization.
But... hasn't it always been so? Didn't the conquistador rain genocide on the Mayan and Aztec? Didn't the British Kings slaughter Scots in the Highlands, manipulate famine in Ireland? The Muslims have fought Christians since the first Muslim and Christian were born.
Cheyenne fought the Blackfoot. Both fought the white man. Tribe has fought Tribe in Afghanistan since the beginning of time, and will till the end of time. One Afghan nation is a western concoction... for which they hate and fight us.
Our leadership teaches us to revile each other and judge according to income and creed. They split us by race and gender, city and farm, conservative and liberal.
Man has raped and cheated; murdered and pillaged since the genesis of the species. It is an old story. There is nothing new.
The only thing that's changed is the speed of the messenger. It twists the mind so it seems as if perversion has run wild; and yet, that is only another deceit. The world itself has not changed, not for better or for worse... nor the people in it.
Times are good for many. Times are brutally hard for others. The strong prey upon the weak. It has always been so.
But people! Take Heart! Listen to the whispers. Those tiny lil' voices in the back of your mind. That soft whispering from your heart.
There is a power that stands up to and defeats the world of sorrow and misery. There is a force that soothes the fear and the sorrow. There is a voice that shines a light in your life.
There is a belief, that if you hold it close enough in your heart, your strength shall never fail. Its strength flows back on itself and grows with irresistible power.
It is a belief that whether you realize it or not, you possess it. You own it.
That special gift, that strength... that shining star that is my lighthouse... Its name is Hope. Many will call it faith. Some will call it a simple toughness. I call it Hope.
When you stand alone... and those you held most dear and precious lay broken and torn around you, and you are left alone, all you have is Hope. When you feel your heart will burst with the pain as you scream your agony at the sky... Fall to your knees and in their memory... grasp the Hope that they hung to with their last breath.
Raise up your eyes, lift yourself from the ground and with the Hope they passed to you, continue. For them, in their honor if not yourself, live on.
Sure, we have been betrayed. It's not the first time nor will it be the last. Those cowardly few who swore to stand up for those who could not; those malicious frauds who promised to defend and protect have proven their deceit.
They are unworthy of our thought or consideration. It is no surprise. Deep down we knew it would be, we expected it. Our hearts knew their true character, even as our eyes were deceived... but we Hoped. The fraud of their word is not our shame but theirs.
We retained hope. It is our Glory. It is the fuel of our soul and the lifeblood in our hearts. Hope.
As the sun rises each morning... the dawn after our last failure... we shall pick up our tools, we shall stand in the morning breeze and we shall say; It is a fine day. I Hope others are as fortunate as I, for I am still warmed by Hope.
It is the purpose and the goal of all life. Though your dreams may fall to dust, your heart be broken and torn, you only fail if you surrender Hope.
It is not the man who easily rises without strife, standing on the success of others to claim the pinnacle, that is the champion and my moral compass. The one I revere is he who tries... she who strives without ever relenting, and never achieving their dreams; yet they never surrender, they refuse to yield. They live on with Hope.
Don't just look out the window and dream... break out the glass... crawl on through and seize that life you see...
It is that person who tastes the sweetest breath of Life. It is that glorious soul that fully appreciates the friendships and the losses.
With their final breath they reach out to take yet another step and point; "It is there... just over there..."
You look and see nothing. You turn back to them and ask; "What? What do you see?"
Their eyes gaze upon you... bewildered. To them it is as clear as the sun. With glittering eyes they cry;
"There! How can you not see her? It is Hope!
Hope is difficult to summon many days and often during specific occasions, but it must be an intrinsic part of us or else we wouldn't keep getting up for yet another day. Thank you for this reminder.