Poetry is not about an event. It is the event. Art is the resistance of complacency. It always stands in opposition to numbness. That’s why it just doesn’t die, poetry - despite so many death notices. It is always there, waking us up when we get numb [..] - Ilya Kaminsky
I believe that something wonderful is about to, and is happening to each of us - but only if we allow it. There’s real magic in combating apathy, even in the banal platitudes - those slow and treacherous climbs we each make without any credit, acknowledgment, or views (perspective).
Everything worthwhile is a slow burn that requires a certain amount of faith, that we will be able to be able to look out over those valleys, breathless and perhaps even astonished.
Practical magic in hope isn’t the belief that “once we arrive at this specific destination we’ll be okay”. Hope is not a lottery ticket. The kind of hope that I’m interested in is an account of widening experiences and realities that demand me to act, change, grow, and move. I’m interested in hope that gives testimony just by being.
I have to create space for everything I want in my life. Anne Carson said that we must act so there is no use in a (our own) center so God can rush in. I know how ironic it sounds for a skeptic to ask for you to leave some room for the divine. You can substitute “something bigger than me” for “God” 99% of the time.
The hardest (and most beautiful) things in life are messy and complex because they’re real. Wholehearted hope does not have any rigid answers for me, it demands both continual/radical action and acceptance, and that’s why it’s something I can trust.