Rio Grande Reflections 2020: Hope, Revisited

"Despair turns us inward, hope sends us into the arms of others". Desmond Tutu

It's been difficult for me to focus on anything for months. Writing is one of many pleasures that has languished. The national election devoured my time, energy, and emotional bandwidth. I am grateful that it is over. It is time to regroup, and reflect, and see what that might be worth sharing.


The arms of others, remembered

Hope. Hope is in the news, with the success of recently completed vaccine trials. Hope is frequently on my mind as well. Hope versus optimism. Hope versus despair. What do we hope for? A vaccine (soon), societal sanity, peace everywhere, the health, safety and survival of ourselves and our loved ones, enough food, toilet paper, a job, a return to "normal' life. Dancing again. Traveling again. To really talk with someone again, with eye contact and the curve of their mouth, unmasked, (other than our spouse, our roommate, our teenager). To feel the warm life next to our breast of another living being (other than our dog or cat).

For me, yes, all of the above (well not a job - I am fortunate to have had one for many years, I am now happily retired). And toilet paper is so yesterday. Most of all I hope that I remember, when this is all over. Remember how when the shutdown started on the threshold of spring, life sharpened into crystalline focus. When slowing down all the "doing" allowed me to notice so much more: the slowly growing morning light; the first buds on the willow; the first bloom on the crocus; the hatch of painted lady butterflies; emerging broods of geese; the bushtits bathing in my sprinkler, spreading excited joy.

Painted Ladies on the apple blossoms

I hope to remember the simple pleasure of human interaction that actually grew in the early days of shutdown -- getting to know neighbors and their children and dogs, who suddenly had the time to walk and talk and play together.

To remember how peaceful it was when the morning traffic slowed down.

I hope that all of us remember how much our gardens, the birds, and our neighbors nourished us when we took the time to pay attention. Billy Collins, one our esteemed American Poet Laureates, said in an interview that "attention is a form of gratitude". I hope this reminds us to pay attention, to cherish the earth and all that she provides for us, every day. The beauty will still be there, even when life speeds up again.

And when it is possible to do so again, I hope to remember how much I longed to hug someone, to look into their unmasked face, to tell them I love them. And do it.