Hope is the thing with feathers

One of our strawberries

It is now strawberry time in our garden. Mine aren't doing so well, but Lily picked this gorgeous specimen out of Hedi's garden spot. We must get to them quickly, or the slugs will take bites before we get a chance to eat them first.

About the title of my post this morning: it is the first line of a favorite Emily Dickinson poem, which goes like this:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all - 

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm - 

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

With the news in the world feeling so shaky these days, not just in my own country but throughout the globe, I keep trying to find a silver lining, a way to keep my own hope alive throughout. A blogging friend, Linda, wrote a wonderful post about being "drenched in privilege," which gave me pause. And then after reading it carefully and thinking about it, I realized that yes, I am also very much drenched in privilege, and since it surrounds me so completely, I am mostly unaware of it. I am retired, have a decent (if not huge) monthly income, thanks to Social Security and a pension (actually annuities) from my previous job. Enough that I can pay the bills and still have a little bit left over to pay for yoga and other activities I enjoy.

I have a place to live that continues to increase in cost, but until I can no longer afford to live here, I'll be grateful for a roof over my head, a garden spot in the back yard, and plenty of lush greenery to soothe my soul. And I have to continue to be grateful for the gift of sight, which is all too tenuous as I go through my days. My macular degeneration continues to progress, even though I am now wearing dark sunglasses and eye shades whenever I go outside, slowing the degeneration for as long as possible.

There is a young blind woman at the gym, who has someone help her take showers. Often as I am leaving the showers, I will see the two of them entering. The helper is fully clothed as she leads the young woman into the shower area, and I have wondered whether the blind woman has someone with her for the rest of her day. She looks like she's in her early twenties. I'm again very grateful for my own ability to see and realize that I will probably always be able to get around and take care of myself, even as I lose the ability to drive and to read books like I do right now. The good part of AMD is that you keep your peripheral vision as you lose the ability to focus in the center. I still have my central vision and hope (there's that word again) to keep it for as long as possible.

I am happy to focus on the positive aspects of my life and realize that it does absolutely no good to concentrate on the negative. Some of us are natural optimists and tend to see the good in everything. I like to think that I am that way, but sometimes these days I find myself despairing that things will get better and let myself become afraid of the future. When I think there is nothing I can do to change things, I feel my hope begin to ebb. Some very wise person (Harriet Tubman) once said:

Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world. 

Is it possible to experience a world at peace? A place where everybody has a home, enough to eat, and freedom from fear? That's my dream. And since I've only got my own environment, my own life to work with, I'll start right there and imagine the dream emanating out from this little spot in the universe, reaching for the stars. That's my little feathery hope you feel tickling you behind your ears, on its way to the moon.

As I look around at my world, I see plenty to give me hope. My partner sleeps contentedly next to me, cloudy skies are bringing us some showers today, which my garden will appreciate, and I'll wear my raincoat to keep myself dry. And this morning, I'll skip the news cycle so I can concentrate on more positive parts of my day. I'll be heading off to the coffee shop to enjoy some time with my buddies there, and then off to the movies with my friend Judy. What's not to like about a day like that?

 If I keep hope in the forefront of my thoughts, I believe my soul will soak up some of those nourishing raindrops. And I am wishing the same for all of you, my dear friends, the blogging universe that reaches out to you with love and desire for a very good week ahead for all of us. I wish you well until we meet again next week.