Long Night's Journey into Day
Four years ago, I wrote the words "Hope is dead."
Sometime in the 19th century, Emily Dickinson wrote the words, "Hope is the thing with feathers"
For a long time I didn't understand what she meant by that. This was because I was in high school and college at the time, still growing, still learning, but still sheltered and innocent enough to be idealistic. In those days I could never understand why someone would want to lock herself away from the world. Having lived out in the world, gaining experience through first-hand exposure to its wicked ways, I understand better now.
I also understand a little bit more about the nature of hope. Ms. Dickinson, being a poet, was not overly specific when she said that hope is a thing with feathers, but now I understand...
Hope is a phoenix.
No matter how many times it seems to be completely destroyed, it rises again from the ashes. It continually resurrects and rejuvenates itself.
Four years ago was the beginning of the darkest period of my life, which was due to a number of factors--mostly in my personal life--that were in play before the 2004 election, but that election is a convenient marker because after that is when it all really started to go downhill. Am I better off now than I was four years ago? I am indeed, but it is in spite of the current lame-duck administration, not because of it. Likewise, my personal life started to improve months ago, independent of this election, but now I feel more confident than ever that more and better things may be coming for me soon. I've always believed that anything is possible, but now that thought excites and energizes rather than terrifies me.
Four years ago, in the depths of my despair, I sought solace from a wise mentor, trusted counselor, and valued friend; he comforted me in part by the mere fact that he shared my pain, but he also said something else that helped a lot at the time, and comes back to me now: time is cyclical. Four years ago was a low point in the cycle (though not the lowest point for me, personally). Now the cycle is back on the upswing.
This was only the third presidential election that I have been eligible to vote in and (I'm ashamed to admit) only the second one that I've voted in. I count myself fortunate that I should have a candidate that I genuinely and wholeheartedly wanted to vote for, that I didn't have to resign myself to weighing the lesser of two evils. Barack Obama is a man after my own heart, or--if not my heart--whatever is the best and purest part of me. That he won is incredible enough, but that he won by such a definitive margin seems nothing short of miraculous.
Jon Stewart said something last night that I felt was particularly profound: "There are very few countries in the world that live up to their creed [...] America tonight lives up to its promise." I'm reminded also of Jon Stewart's speech following September 11, 2001--harbinger of dark days to come--when he said the aftermath of the attack was "a dream realized, and that is Martin Luther King's dream." Barack Obama's election is also Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream realized; not just because we elected a black president, but because we judged him--I believe--not by the color of his skin but by the content of his character. Even if it is just momentary, I have never been prouder of my country than I am at this moment.
Four years ago we elected the president that we deserved. Now we've elected the president who is most deserving.
Sometime in the 19th century, Emily Dickinson wrote the words, "Hope is the thing with feathers"
For a long time I didn't understand what she meant by that. This was because I was in high school and college at the time, still growing, still learning, but still sheltered and innocent enough to be idealistic. In those days I could never understand why someone would want to lock herself away from the world. Having lived out in the world, gaining experience through first-hand exposure to its wicked ways, I understand better now.
I also understand a little bit more about the nature of hope. Ms. Dickinson, being a poet, was not overly specific when she said that hope is a thing with feathers, but now I understand...
Hope is a phoenix.
No matter how many times it seems to be completely destroyed, it rises again from the ashes. It continually resurrects and rejuvenates itself.
Four years ago was the beginning of the darkest period of my life, which was due to a number of factors--mostly in my personal life--that were in play before the 2004 election, but that election is a convenient marker because after that is when it all really started to go downhill. Am I better off now than I was four years ago? I am indeed, but it is in spite of the current lame-duck administration, not because of it. Likewise, my personal life started to improve months ago, independent of this election, but now I feel more confident than ever that more and better things may be coming for me soon. I've always believed that anything is possible, but now that thought excites and energizes rather than terrifies me.
Four years ago, in the depths of my despair, I sought solace from a wise mentor, trusted counselor, and valued friend; he comforted me in part by the mere fact that he shared my pain, but he also said something else that helped a lot at the time, and comes back to me now: time is cyclical. Four years ago was a low point in the cycle (though not the lowest point for me, personally). Now the cycle is back on the upswing.
This was only the third presidential election that I have been eligible to vote in and (I'm ashamed to admit) only the second one that I've voted in. I count myself fortunate that I should have a candidate that I genuinely and wholeheartedly wanted to vote for, that I didn't have to resign myself to weighing the lesser of two evils. Barack Obama is a man after my own heart, or--if not my heart--whatever is the best and purest part of me. That he won is incredible enough, but that he won by such a definitive margin seems nothing short of miraculous.
Jon Stewart said something last night that I felt was particularly profound: "There are very few countries in the world that live up to their creed [...] America tonight lives up to its promise." I'm reminded also of Jon Stewart's speech following September 11, 2001--harbinger of dark days to come--when he said the aftermath of the attack was "a dream realized, and that is Martin Luther King's dream." Barack Obama's election is also Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream realized; not just because we elected a black president, but because we judged him--I believe--not by the color of his skin but by the content of his character. Even if it is just momentary, I have never been prouder of my country than I am at this moment.
Four years ago we elected the president that we deserved. Now we've elected the president who is most deserving.