Take your hope where you can get it
It's been quite a week; plus a preview of my poem "The Turning"
I live in a town called New Hope, whose name I’ve always found *almost* too cute. But as the last week or so has played out on the American political stage, I’ve realized something.
We really needed some new hope.
This letter isn’t about politics, though I do personally believe that there hasn’t been a more important political moment in our lifetimes (and that goes for my non-US readers too) than this year’s election. I love politics and have a graduate degree in it, but the political machinations—and even the political figures—aren’t what’s really interesting to me about this moment.
So instead, I want to focus on the wild inventure that we go on when we allow ourselves to hope.
For me, this past week, the biggest shock was discovering just how little hope I had been carrying around. A sort of vague cynicism settled over me sometime around 2016 and has only really been punctuated here and there by moments of relief. Which is very different from hope.
The next shock about adopting a hope…
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