That's one of my favorite poems, Christina! I almost used it, but I've done so in another Substack post, so I refrained from repeating myself (and Emily).
This is so powerful and true! Hope in motion….perfect!
The immigration stories in my family… On my father’s side from Scandinavia, and on my mother side coming to Kansas from the East in the 1850s as a part of the free state movement, helping gather enough votes to make sure the state of Kansas was not a slave state. My great grandfather wrote a journal about it and talked about Lady Liberty. I am reminded of the memes going around showing vice president Harris standing in front of the Statue of Liberty.
But, we have had no hummingbirds this year… Any idea why not?
Great stories, Kathryn, and how cool that you have your great-grandfather's journal to read. It's amazing to me that everyone on this continent is an immigrant--even indigenous people arrived from somewhere else, albeit many millennia before we later-colonizers and our ancestors--and still, so many people have conveniently forgotten that fact. Where is the fear from, I wonder? (Rhetorical question, no need to answer!)
Re hummingbirds: That could be weather (too much rain, too little rain, storms blowing migrants off course), it could be an increase in the use of pesticides and herbicides killing goff their natural food sources, and it is certainly partly explained by the plummeting bird populations in the past 30 years, by as much as 50 percent in some cases. I don't know your specific area, so I don't have a definitive answer. But if you know any birders, you might ask what their experience has been.
“hope is an active verb”—so perfectly said—and there’s much to be done. The hope relit over the past few days seems to light the way to so much, even in the personal realm. Let’s use it.
I would say "pa'lante" (in an idiomatic way) para alante (let's move on, or simply "ahead."). And esperanza is such a wonderful word: 4 long syllables and and vowels making time for us to catch up.
Oh, I like "pa'lante"! I'll remember that. (Or at least I'll try to.) And I agree about esperanza: I've always loved the word --it feels musical to me.
Thanks, Jill. I was thinking of monarchs too, and dragonflies that migrate, and the one-way migration of painted lady butterflies. There are so many migrations, so many ways to move across time and space. One thing I didn't mention and perhaps should is that migrations bring resources in the form of the calories in each being, in the form of the work and knowledge the migrants bring. Perhaps I just need to write a post about migration sometime.... :)
Thank you, Jeanne. This Year of Spiritual Thinking project is pushing me to articulate so much of what motivates me, but I have never put into coherent words.
I heard the buzz of hummingbird wings while reading this on my porch! Every year we have the countdown until they come back. We built a house two years ago, and this Spring was the time to plant lots of pollinators so we could watch the birds and bees. It really does fill me with hope when I hear that first buzz and they find our blossoms and feeder. I worry that climate change will alter their migrations, but at least I can be ready to welcome them.
I think your creating a welcoming garden for hummingbirds and pollinators epitomizes hope as a verb, Todd. As you say, we can't know how climate change will alter their migrations and lives, but we can be ready to welcome those winged neighbors, regardless. Blessings!
Dropping in here briefly, Susan, between trips to say thank you for this. I am gradually edging my way toward this kind of hope, a version firmly rooted and with "some muscle." Thank you again.
I'm honored to be on your reading list between trips, Emily! May your travels bring you the gift of finding active, muscly hope in unexpected places. Blessings on the journey.
Migrations certainly are a testament to hope. Thank you for this mind opening exploration of hope. It moves hope from the "thinking of" to the acting upon hope realm.
I think we have to act our hope to make it through these times. There's a sense in which we all are engaged in a kind of migration, doing what we can to move our culture to a more just and equitable and, I hope, kinder way of being.
"Because any positive thing we do, no matter how small it may seem at the moment, adds to the ocean of light and love in this world, helping it overcome the ocean of darkness and fear." Echoing.
A beautiful testament to life amidst so many challenges in the world.
Thanks, Penny! I refuse to write about politics because of the many online trolls, but I will say I am feeling much more positive this week.
I love this. It made me think of that Emily Dickinson poem, "'Hope' Is the Thing With Feathers."
That's one of my favorite poems, Christina! I almost used it, but I've done so in another Substack post, so I refrained from repeating myself (and Emily).
I love that poem!
"And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest in the gale is heard - "
That last line seems especially appropriate for these times.
Yes!
This is so powerful and true! Hope in motion….perfect!
The immigration stories in my family… On my father’s side from Scandinavia, and on my mother side coming to Kansas from the East in the 1850s as a part of the free state movement, helping gather enough votes to make sure the state of Kansas was not a slave state. My great grandfather wrote a journal about it and talked about Lady Liberty. I am reminded of the memes going around showing vice president Harris standing in front of the Statue of Liberty.
But, we have had no hummingbirds this year… Any idea why not?
Great stories, Kathryn, and how cool that you have your great-grandfather's journal to read. It's amazing to me that everyone on this continent is an immigrant--even indigenous people arrived from somewhere else, albeit many millennia before we later-colonizers and our ancestors--and still, so many people have conveniently forgotten that fact. Where is the fear from, I wonder? (Rhetorical question, no need to answer!)
Re hummingbirds: That could be weather (too much rain, too little rain, storms blowing migrants off course), it could be an increase in the use of pesticides and herbicides killing goff their natural food sources, and it is certainly partly explained by the plummeting bird populations in the past 30 years, by as much as 50 percent in some cases. I don't know your specific area, so I don't have a definitive answer. But if you know any birders, you might ask what their experience has been.
A few of my birder friends have also noted the lack of hummingbirds. This is mostly East river. West of the Missouri, they’re reporting them
I suspect that that's a weather-related migration path change. I hope you'll see them on the southward migration.
Beautiful and meaningful. Thank you
You are welcome. Carry on with hope leading your steps!
“hope is an active verb”—so perfectly said—and there’s much to be done. The hope relit over the past few days seems to light the way to so much, even in the personal realm. Let’s use it.
Absolutely! Andanos! (If that's a word.) Con esperanza of an active sort.
I would say "pa'lante" (in an idiomatic way) para alante (let's move on, or simply "ahead."). And esperanza is such a wonderful word: 4 long syllables and and vowels making time for us to catch up.
Oh, I like "pa'lante"! I'll remember that. (Or at least I'll try to.) And I agree about esperanza: I've always loved the word --it feels musical to me.
I was surprised by hope this week, and it feels so good! :-)
Doesn't it just! May that hope propel us into a wave of positive change.
Love the idea of migration as hope in action. Thinking of the Monarchs, too.
Thanks, Jill. I was thinking of monarchs too, and dragonflies that migrate, and the one-way migration of painted lady butterflies. There are so many migrations, so many ways to move across time and space. One thing I didn't mention and perhaps should is that migrations bring resources in the form of the calories in each being, in the form of the work and knowledge the migrants bring. Perhaps I just need to write a post about migration sometime.... :)
Hope takes courage. Despair takes none. Let's hope we can all find the necessary courage of our critters to keep our incredible democracy.
True words. And courage, that strength from the heart is what we call on times like this. I believe we can win this one.
Such a timely reminder Susan! Perfect!
Thanks, Sue! Hugs to you....
I love this. In so many ways.
Thank you, Jeanne. This Year of Spiritual Thinking project is pushing me to articulate so much of what motivates me, but I have never put into coherent words.
I heard the buzz of hummingbird wings while reading this on my porch! Every year we have the countdown until they come back. We built a house two years ago, and this Spring was the time to plant lots of pollinators so we could watch the birds and bees. It really does fill me with hope when I hear that first buzz and they find our blossoms and feeder. I worry that climate change will alter their migrations, but at least I can be ready to welcome them.
I think your creating a welcoming garden for hummingbirds and pollinators epitomizes hope as a verb, Todd. As you say, we can't know how climate change will alter their migrations and lives, but we can be ready to welcome those winged neighbors, regardless. Blessings!
Dropping in here briefly, Susan, between trips to say thank you for this. I am gradually edging my way toward this kind of hope, a version firmly rooted and with "some muscle." Thank you again.
I'm honored to be on your reading list between trips, Emily! May your travels bring you the gift of finding active, muscly hope in unexpected places. Blessings on the journey.
Thank you, Susan. I look out for it:)
Migrations certainly are a testament to hope. Thank you for this mind opening exploration of hope. It moves hope from the "thinking of" to the acting upon hope realm.
I think we have to act our hope to make it through these times. There's a sense in which we all are engaged in a kind of migration, doing what we can to move our culture to a more just and equitable and, I hope, kinder way of being.
"Because any positive thing we do, no matter how small it may seem at the moment, adds to the ocean of light and love in this world, helping it overcome the ocean of darkness and fear." Echoing.
Thank you, Licinda! I appreciate your echoing. Many blessings.
Thank you, Susan♥️
Wonderful thoughts on hope - it is what sustains us.
Thank you, Sue. It truly is, and I feel much more optimistic now than I have in a while with the change in Democratic nominees....
HUGE difference! I am doing postcards and letters to the editor to support decent ideas and compassion.
I loved what Walz said to Harris at the Philly rally: "Thank you for brining back the joy." Amen! (A on-religious amen, that is.)