“Hope”
by Victoria SaffordOur mission is to plant ourselves at the gates of hope — not the prudent gates of Optimism, which are somewhat narrower; nor the stalwart, boring gates of Common Sense; nor the strident gates of self-righteousness, which creak on shrill and angry hinges; nor the cheerful, flimsy garden gate of “Everything is gonna be all right,” but a very different, sometimes very lonely place, the place of truth-telling, about your own soul first of all and its condition, the place of resistance and defiance, the piece of ground from which you see the world both as it is and as it could be, as it might be, as it will be; the place from which you glimpse not only struggle but joy in the struggle — and we stand there, beckoning and calling, telling people what we are seeing, asking people what they see.
Plant ourselves at the gates of hope. The imagery is so powerful. Just that one line has so many invitations for reflection.
Where have I planted myself? We all plant ourselves someplace. The concept of planting ourselves is worthy of investigation. Planting is putting down roots. Planted plants bloom, grow, spread. They thrive or wither based on the surrounding environment. Where have I planted myself? Have I put down roots at the gates of hope, self-righteousness, cynism, or skepticism?
This is a personal question, but the author (Victoria Safford) uses the pronoun ourselves, not myself. So while we can make the question personal, it’s also a collective question. Where have we as a neighborhood, state, culture, nation, group planted ourselves? I’ve been reflecting over the past few months that the pandemic has shown us who we are. We’ve seen who we are as individuals, as neighbors, cities, churches, states, and nations. We have seen who we trust. Who we follow and how we treat our neighbors.
I love how the above quote unfolds.
somewhat narrower gate of optimism
boring gate of common sense
strident (loud and harsh) gates of self-righteousness
cheerful, flimsy gates of everything is gonna be alright
The truth is hope can easily fall into these categories of optimism, or it will all be okay. Yet, it seems as Safford understands hope as something deeper, more powerful, and more difficult.
“a very different, sometimes very lonely place, the place of truth-telling, about your own soul first of all and its condition, the place of resistance and defiance, the piece of ground from which you see the world both as it is and as it could be, as it might be, as it will be; the place from which you glimpse not only struggle but joy in the struggle — and we stand there, beckoning and calling, telling people what we are seeing, asking people what they see.”
The gate of hope is:
place of truth-telling (humility)
about your own soul-first of all (non-judgmental)
telling about the places of resistance and defiance (vulnerability)
telling how you see the world, both as it is and could be (belief)
where you glimpse joy in the struggle (tenacity)
I love how this quote ends. . . we stand at the gates of hope. . inviting, calling, telling people what we see and asking what they see. Hope doesn’t happen alone.
This quote from Victoria Safford is part of a longer essay you can read here (It’s just 3 paragraphs, but worth your time! It’s the story of a fierce young woman who faces down a racist crowd.)
This quote has so much to unpack. Is there a phrase that stood out to you? Where have you planted yourself? How do you understand hope? As the days lengthen and spring unfolds, maybe as you plant something in the ground it can be a reminder to think about where you are planted.
ideas.poems.quotes.songs that sparkled for me this week.
(I try and pay attention to words or phrases that stand out to me in my reading and listening. There is a spiritual practice called Florliledgium that is collecting short, interesting pieces {words that “sparkle” up} and putting them together. This is kind of like that. Watching for things that sparkle. Gathering them and seeing how they work together and what message, mantra, or new idea might arise.)
A Practice:
Read slowly.
Notice if a word or phrase stands out to you.
How do the words make you feel?
Is there an invitation?
“Despite all consequence, there is an inevitable honoring of what is true, and at this deep level of inner voice, it is not a summoning of will, but a following of true knowing. My own life is a trail of such following. Time and again, I have heard deep callings that felt inevitable and which I could have ignored, but only at great risk of something essential perishing.”
― Mark Nepo, The Little Book of Awakening
“I celebrate myself," the poet Walt Whitman wrote. The thought is so delicious it is almost obscene. Imagine the joy that would come with celebrating the self — our achievements, our experiences, our existence. Imagine what it would be like to look into the mirror and say, as God taught us, "That's good.”
― Joan Chittister, Light in the Darkness: New Reflections on the Psalms for Every Day of the Year
Here. Come here. Take a moment to set aside that list you’ve been writing in fluorescent ink. The list that converts tasks into emergencies. Items like “feed the orchids” become “If I don’t accomplish this by 11:00 a.m. tomorrow morning the rain forests are going to dry up and it will be all my fault.” Or “If I fail to renew my automobile insurance I will probably crash my car and everyone will die.” Or “This friend just had her breast biopsied and that friend’s brother-in-law beat up her sister and my aunt just lost her job with the symphony and my nephew is contemplating divorce and I must call them all, and listen to them for an hour each, and dispense redemptive advice.”
Gather your burdens in a basket in your heart. Set them at the feet of the Mother. Say, “Take this, Great Mama, because I cannot carry all this shit for another minute.” And then crawl into her broad lap and nestle against her ample bosom and take a nap. When you wake, the basket will still be there, but half its contents will be gone, and the other half will have resumed their ordinary shapes and sizes, no longer masquerading as catastrophic, epic, chronic, and toxic. The Mother will clear things out and tidy up. She will take your compulsions and transmute them. But only if you freely offer them to her.
-Wild Mercy: Living the Fierce and Tender Wisdom of the Women Mystics by Mirabai Starr
Photo by Kate Hliznitsova on Unsplash
A Smaller & Deeper Blessing
May you have eyes to see the small delights.
Ears to hear the deeper call.
May you find ease in the right yes and peace in no.
Through the highs and lows of this week, may you know you don’t walk alone.
*typos and misplaced commas etc. prove my humanity.
