That thing with feathers


Yes. Yes I DID wear a tiara to work today. It’s my birthday and, while I wanted to wear the really BIG tiara (the gorgeous, flashy one that makes me look like a beautiful and terrible ice queen), I decided in favor of the understated elegance and subtlety of the smaller one. One does want to maintain a certain sense of decorum after all. 
It’s a book store and book people are notoriously understated, elegant people. Except for the ones that are really out there and have a hard time adulting (these are actually MY people) despite their parents best efforts at raising them to be upstanding members of society. A miserably failed endeavor resulting is a deliciously complex soup of delightful and slightly unbalanced, dangerous characters (like me) wandering about the planet. 
Today is most assuredly going down in the history books for reasons I do not care to give any more ink and ether to at this moment. I refuse to be stripped of hope and optimism when I can see so many amazingly unique and differently minded people side by side in this place, a book store filled with the full spectrum of thought and ideology. 
Strangers, talking easily, passionately, peacefully about their different points of view, and parting with their own choices and smiles. There is hope in conversation. There is hope in actions that lead to understanding, or at the very least clarity. There is hope in people expanding their paradigms, exploring new places in their minds and their hearts. There is hope.  


Today is so many things. Heartbreaking and beautiful things. Emily Dickinson spoke of it in my favorite poem

“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.”

In the darkest part of this day I will close my eyes for the briefest of moments, lean towards the candles on my cake and make my wish. I’ll think of Eleanor Roosevelt and her boldness “I would rather light a candle than curse the dark”. I’ll blow out my candles and light another against the dark. Because there is always hope just as long as there is someone willing to light a candle, and sing the tune without the words and never stop at all.