Praise Song for the Day
Freeport, January 30, 2021
In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air / any thing can be made, any sentence begun. / On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp, /praise song for walking forward in that light.
From: Praise Song for the Day, Elizabeth Alexander, A Poem for Barack Obama’s Presidential Inauguration
We live, here in Maine, on a sawtoothed coast speckled with old lighthouses, each one lending an air of romance and adventure to our cold lives. Before electronic navigation systems, sailors relied on these oil-lamp lit beacons to keep them on course. In high seas and winds, in fog, I suspect we all have an image, gleaned from many a movie or book, of a courageous ship captain at the helm of his vessel, his shoulders squared, his eyes focused, urgently scanning the dark night for that flicker, that blink of life that will direct him and his crew towards safe harbor, towards home.
Nash Island Light, Addison, Maine
Events of this week suggest the possibility that safe harbor is in the air. Like Alexander, I too feel that we are on the cusp, the brink of great change. The sweet smell of wild beach roses beckons from shore. A man I can trust, with vast experience sailing through turbulent storms, is at the helm of our great ship of democracy and the oil lit lamp is shining from the window of the lighthouse.
But there are yet obstacles ahead and there are false lights that lead away from hope, towards more anxiety, more worry. Like the Sirens that enchanted Odysseus, the lure of these lights is seductive and oh so hard to resist. For a long time, even before March when the world shut down, I’ve been tuned to worry, wired to look out for danger, poised to run. I notice now how difficult it is to move away from that adrenaline fused fix, to turn away from my hyper vigilance about news reports which obscure the light of hope. The brain, I learned in school, is wired to mistake a stick for a snake, for, the saying goes, it is much less dangerous to mistake a stick for a snake, than a snake for a stick.
Today, I will not scan for snakes! Instead, I am going to use this winter air, this sharp sparkle, to write sentences about the good news, the real turning that happened this week. Perhaps the most startling news is contained in these sentences of Bill McKibben’s in this week’s The New Yorker.
January 27 is…the most remarkable day in the history of America’s official response to the climate crisis…It may well mark the official beginning of the end of the fossil-fuel era. Taken together Biden’s actions, “send a decisive signal about the end of one epoch and the beginning of another.
Praise song for the day!
Sit with these words with me for a while. Sit with the realization that you are not alone in your fears for the future of this planet. Sit with the enormous turning that Biden’s executive orders set in motion. Sit with the idea that he understands that he needs to replace all the jobs lost by switching from carbon with new jobs, good union jobs — in infrastructure renewal and wind and solar energy. Sit with the idea that he and his administration understand climate warming is an issue of social justice. Breathe into the idea that your great grandchildren and grandchildren have a better chance for living a healthy life on this planet. Sit with the idea that the chickadees may be the official bird of Maine for years to come.
Praise song for the day!
In Maine, the pace of vaccinations has picked up. The story in this morning’s Portland Press Herald about the teamwork and vision that transformed the old Scarborough Downs Racetrack pavilion into a mass vaccination site in less than three weeks time is thrilling and inspiring to read. Most of my friends over seventy have been able to get an appointment for a vaccine in the next few weeks. 9.4% of the state’s population has been given a first dose. My second dose is three weeks from now. Dr. Fauci said this week that he hopes that by July we will have reached herd immunity in this country. Imagine: picnics, baseball games, grandchildren’s kisses, county fairs, faces.
Praise song for the day!
Since March, I’ve carefully tip-toed around the edges of my small life—slippered, masked, purelled, turned inward. But today, as the beams of light from the news of this administration shine through the winter air, and trust in the way forward is laid out under its glow, I feel my eyes lift from the small circle of safety I’ve woven around my energy, my aspirations, my attention. I feel my vision move outward and my imagination move into larger spaces. I feel energy in those spaces and curiosity about what they will call for from me.
“Olly, olly oxen free,” it’s time to prepare to come out of hiding! I wonder what the world will look like when I do.