I have often described myself as a skeptical optimist. I hope for the best, but not expect the worst. Yesterday in church, the worship associate (lay person that gives a reflection) recited a poem by Caitlin Seida called "Hope Is Not a Bird, Emily, It's a Sewer Rat". I've attached it. The sermon from the minister was about "Hope On Trial". She said, "To hope or not to hope? That is the question we wrestle with as we consider divergent perspectives on hope in light of our times. Is hope a thing with feathers, or is it a sewer rat? Does it inspire acquiescence, or action? What role does hope play in our own lives and how does it shape our orientation to the future?"
I have hope for this country, the American people, and the world, but I can't just say "Oh, well" when things charge into oppression and injustice. My hope calls me to action. I demonstrate. I write articles for the climate newsletter. I post shit on Facebook. I write in my blog. Even the fiction I write aims to keep us looking up. I can see the best in people. Even people like Donald Fucking Trump. He'd be a lot better person if he'd had a better dad. Talk about grooming our children!
Giving up hope means turning to drugs or violence or suicide. People with hope don't commit suicide.
Anyway. Life goes on until it doesn't. And I intend to do whatever I can to keep it going on. It may get a lot worse before it gets better, but I'll never give up. And I'll never give up hope.
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