This past week was a rough one with events in the country and a series of unusual events in and around the home and, by Saturday night, a little misunderstanding sends me over the edge to tears.
I’m not really sure what I’m crying for. Maybe everything. I can trust it’s not just self-pity, for there too is rage, the fire of indignation, outrage, despair, general exhaustion, and perhaps even the exhaustion of holding on to hope.
A few days ago, a friend of mine in Minnesota sent me an Emily Dickinson line after we’d had a brief exchange about what’s going on. She typed: “Hope is the thing with feathers…”
And my first thought was, “Oh, how sad. Hope is the thing with feathers which means it can fly away.” But I don’t think that’s what Dickinson was saying. I don’t think that’s what my friend was saying either.
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.
Sunday morning, I’m still feeling low. An Arctic Front has brought in some snow-like weather (a strange mixture of sleet, rain, and snow). Bundled in my layers, I go for my morning walk. For a moment, feeling as if I’m the only one in the world, I stand in place and watch snowflakes dance in the air. Six-sided stars, cold and delicate. I listen to the birds. From somewhere nearby, the wind stirs windchimes into song. The crepe myrtles creak.
My mom and I have been watching the show Andor. I’d heard several people say it was a Must Watch. And I was curious as to what made it so. Not untypically out of the loop, and deliberately not having researched it ahead of time, my idea of what Andor was about is quickly unraveled (for example: I thought it named for a place not a person). Truth be told, the show has been almost too on the nose with the state of the country to be fun to watch. Some episodes have been downright stressful. Empire overreach. Disregard for human life. Dealings and double dealings. Torture. False imprisonments. Misinformation. Propaganda. All those things and more which lead the characters to their individual calls to rebellion. All those things and more which disrupt the characters’ normal lives.
Even knowing how the story ends… with the fall of the Empire… the lead up to that is painful. Hard to watch.
After all, Andor comes before Star Wars: A New Hope.
But there again, there’s that hope. For a better world. For freedom from tyranny. For the good of the entire galaxy.
That message keeps coming back to me. Hold on to hope.
Saturday evening, unwisely scrolling online, but wisely watching a book recommendation video from @ryanholiday which he starts off by saying, “Read these books if you want to fight back and make a difference in the world,” I take screenshots of the books I want to read.
His recommendations include: Hope in the Dark: Untold Histories, Wild Possibilities by Rebecca Solnit and The Children by David Halberstam which Holiday says is about “How the Civil Rights Movement was driven by young people, as most movements are.”
Holiday mentions how Rosa Parks attended the Highlander Folk School in Tennessee which taught specific and concrete ways to address community problems (such as racism) and provided the essential principles for non-violent activism.
Which makes me think of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. For he talked about hope too. And though he was killed for his message, impact, hope, and dream, his words still resonate. Still inspire. His dream can still be realized. If we don’t stop fighting for it. If we don’t forget the power and moral force of nonviolent resistance and protest. If we don’t give in to tyranny.
The thing that makes me sad about Andor and the Star Wars rebellion is that the characters had to resort to violence to free themselves and the galaxy from oppression, violence, and that heavy foot and clutching fist of tyranny. It makes me sad that so many people had to die.
Well, it was called Star Wars. It’s not like I wasn’t warned.
Stars. Snowflakes as six-sided stars. Blurred snow that looks like a ship traveling at hyper-speed. And Dr. King who said, “Only in the darkness can you see the stars.”
And so. When it feels dark, and hopeless at times, as it does now, may we all remember to look up to see the stars. And when we do, may they shine bright and brighter.
May we hold on to hope.
May the Force be with us all.
No comments:
Post a Comment