When does the beginning come?

Good question, that. There is an answer.

It’s been a minute.

I appreciate your patience, even if you never realized it’s been a minute. (See the postscript if you have no idea what I’m talking about. I digress.)

---

In times of the dark and the bleak, when despair might reign, if we are smart, we turn to the Elders among us (or should). And if our hearts are broke enough, and we are humbled, and we own up to the fact we have no answers, we shall politely ask of them, respectfully on bended-knee, for their wisdom. After their astonishment calms for having been asked in the first place, after having been ignored for so long, most, if not all, will abide and share—that’s what being an Elder means. Because most, if not all, are aware of what’s at stake in this moment. And what’s at stake in this moment won’t be realized in full by those of us currently living, but rather by those of our kin, our future generations, our children and grandchildren (Elders know EVERY child is our child and grandchild!), who will come after us; and when those futures of ours are of age, they will wonder about us and our part in the bringing about of whatever THIS is, and they will wonder what we did, didn’t do, and why.

I’m trusting you know what I mean when I refer to the THIS of “whatever THIS is.” Funny how we don’t have to be specific about that, right?

We must seek for that Elder wisdom. I must seek for that wisdom. Wisdom like that is the most valuable of substances that is often elusive—lying just below the surface levels of the noise, lies, chaos, and intentional distraction. But our Elders have the wisdom; they’ve lived the path, thought deeply about it, remembered their history, and are caretakers of the maps. If I’ve mixed metaphors here, just deal with it.

What we do with that wisdom after, should we have that courage, is on us. It’s always on us.

Because all THIS, whatever we are to call this, was on us, too. That’s not something we tend to realize or understand. But it’s true. Our Elders tell us so.

Rebecca Solnit, Elder extraordinaire.

Sources

I have a new favorite podcast. I don’t listen to podcasts as a habit, choosing instead to read physical books when I have idle-enough moments where I can devote intentional mind-space and focus. But since I’ve adopted a rather successful practice of daily walking, when I choose to not be fully in the walking moment within the environment as I walk (and thereby be fully receptive to the environment’s own wisdom), I’ll put on my headphones and listen, not to music, but the spoken word from various sources whom I might find informative, inspirational, and motivational. AKA, my potential Elders. (Ironically, I never listen to books though. I read them.)

I’m not dumb enough to think I can figure out on my own how to keep my sanity amidst this chaos and to keep from falling into despair. I need help, and when I need help of this kind, I’m most comfortable turning to those among us, and those who were among us at one time, to learn what they have learned and are willing to share. In most cases—no, in all cases—I am rewarded. And I’m most richly rewarded when I heed their words and wisdom, and metabolize their words into my body and mind and soul. That’s a part of my alchemy.

But I often don’t—metabolize the words, that is. That’s on me, not on the wisdom nor the Elders. Me.

It’s always me.

“Amnesia breeds despair the way that memory breeds hope.”

~ Walter Brueggemann

The name of this podcast of which I speak is Wonder Cabinet.

Wonder Cabinet is an independent podcast from Anne Strainchamps and Steve Paulson, Peabody Award-winning creators of public radio’s To The Best Of Our Knowledge. For 35 years, that show brought long-form conversations to 200+ stations nationwide; its interviews are now archived in the Library of Congress.

Episodes feature intimate, long-form conversations with scientists, philosophers, writers, and artists who are re-imagining our relationship with the planet.

(From their website)

Um, yeah… “intimate, long-form conversations with scientists, philosophers, writers, and artists….” Shoot THAT directly into my veins; I’ll take a double-dose please. (All vaccine deniers can go f*ck themselves!)

In other words, these said conversations are offerings of wisdom from contemporary Elders (understanding that “Elderhood,” in this context, has nothing to do with chronological age, btw).

On one of my walks the other day, I played a Wonder Cabinet episode featuring Rebecca Solnit. Now, I’ve admired Solnit for quite a while—for a number of reasons but mostly because she is an incredibly calm, open-hearted, and moral voice of reason, compassion, and even hope (though I don’t believe in hope as it is commonly understood; rather, the kind of hope Solnit speaks of is right up my alley). Solnit is a respected writer; deep-thinker; philosopher; social, environmental, and indigenous rights activist; and maybe best of all, simply one of the wisest humans among us. Solnit is an Elder of mine. She can be one of yours for the taking as well.

On this podcast, they were discussing concepts that Solnit had addressed in her latest book. I have a couple of her books, but not this one…yet. This book, after hearing her and Anne Strainchamps conversation, is calling strongly to me.

The quote above by Brueggemann was quoted by Solnit during the podcast. I remember as I was walking that I needed to come back to that quote when I was finished. And I did. In fact, it inspired this post. Go back and read it again.

Solnit writes of our current age, with its political upheaval and chaos, in a very different, non-dramatic way. She does not buy into the noise and drama—despite the intentionally distracting noise and drama being the exact point, purpose, and plan of those in current power. Instead, she’s remembered, and she keeps remembering. She doesn’t have the amnesia of which Brueggemann speaks, so despair has not bred a foothold in her psyche. Rather, she has memory.

And this was the message I needed to hear in order to rid myself of a form of despair that, without strong and vigilant defenses, would infect my very being and pull me down to some pretty depressing and dark depths. I recognize I’m prone to melancholy—so I try to take precautions. Sometimes I need Elders to help.

I’m writing this reflection hours after my walk, after the podcast episode. I wanted to see what’s lingered because what lingers is what seeps deeper into the soul. Like water and nutrients into soil, that vital womb of darkness that all earthly species rely upon for their own animate life, the words that remain and linger are the words that supply the memory that keeps despair at bay. Solnit, because of her social justice passions, is a realist—a person idealistically tempered because she’s placed herself in the arena of activism, advocacy, and ally-ship—each a vulnerable place to reside. She’s seen enough such that, though it has been a constant, shadow-like, near-companion of hers, she states that she’s never succumbed to its ironically seductive grasp. Instead, she has faith in memory; she trusts history. She knows that, in a well-known phrase that remains true to this day, “history never repeats itself, but it does rhyme.”

We’re in rhyming times right now.

We like to think these times, now, are the worst of times. The doomsayers are loud, with justifiable reason I might add. It is proclaimed we’ve never experienced exactly THIS before. Well, duh, of course that’s true! History doesn’t repeat. But we’ve been in worst times before—and Solnit reminds us we’ll be in them again, even when this administration is relegated to what will be the very harsh treatment of posterity and history. What matters is what we remember; what matters is that we never forget, that we don’t allow amnesia into our beings such that we fall too easily for the snake-oil of present and future salesmen—no matter their title, no matter they may sit in the Oval Office. What matters is that we keep the faith of memory and rely upon it to act and behave accordingly. Our responses to the moment are what matter. This has always been the case.

When I heard this wisdom being shared during the podcast, I was reminded of another quote, from another Elder of mine, that often gives me solace, but that I sometimes fail to apply to current times:

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

Martin Luther King, Jr. used this quote in one of his speeches—but the concept doesn’t originate with him. The late and honorable John Lewis also used it to great effect and power. Rather, the Unitarian minister, Theodore Parker, in 1853, wrote:

Look at the facts of the world. You see a continual and progressive triumph of the right. I do not pretend to understand the moral universe, the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways. I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by conscience. But from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice.

Though these exact words were not used by Solnit during the podcast, I’m sure she’s aware of them. And trusts in them. These are words of memory—words of history. And we MUST remember them at all times, let alone right now, during these trying times. We must hold on to the long view—the long view is where justice resides. Exactly where it always has, despite our desire to wish it would come sooner.

THIS is my takeaway from these Elders. What we are going through may be the darkness of the womb that precedes a new life—a new birth for American democracy. This is what history has always taught us. “Do not become mired in the depths of despair,” teaches the wisdom; don’t buy into the noise and drama. It, too, will end. And what comes after, though no one can ever know for sure, will be new and different. And it will be more just—if even by a single degree. It is the law of the moral universe.

My question, answered.

The question that titled this post, “When does the beginning come?”, comes from that recent book from Rebecca Solnit. It IS my ultimate takeaway, even though I haven’t yet read the book. The title itself, compelling and provocative as it is, now understood through the lenses of faith, trust, and history, and Solnit’s wisdom, will keep me from despair even though I think we have a lot more darkness to travel through, yet. I see the meter of the rhyme of these times.

Question: When does the beginning come?

Answer: After the end.

And we’re near the end. I can have faith in that.

This image is a link to the book from Bookshop.org. Always, Bookshop.org. Never Amazon.

Let’s keep the faith, y’all. Let’s continue to show up for each other; resist the despair that they’d prefer we suffer; and never give them the satisfaction that they’re winning. The moral universe IS a just one—and they have no concept of moral justice. That’s why they’ll never win the long term, as judged by memory and history.

So do not succumb to amnesia. Just, remember.

A new beginning is on our horizon.

Keep playing the long game.

---

Always and Ubuntu,

~ k

🙏🏼

Postscript:

I mentioned it has been a minute. I’ve been intentionally moving toward a more analog style of life and living. So I’ve let go of my own constraint to post on a self-imposed, weekly, Friday 4:41am deadline. I did that for over 3 years and 265 posts (this is post #266!). That was a remnant of a past life in which I was dominated by the clock, and deadlines, and calendars, and “must do’s.” I’m choosing to no longer live that way. The feeling as a result has been a bit cathartic. I’m also trying to understand exactly what I have to bring to Substack, anyway. My voice has a small footprint on Substack—just a solitary one, among a growing cacophony of noise, opinion, independent journalism, and wanna-be gurus as Substack has become more like all the other social media platforms that I was never a part of to begin with. I was always here for an intentional reason—a reason that never included a desire to “grow my brand,” or gain views/likes/❤️’s and subscribers, and certainly to never, ever gain monetarily from inauthentic transactions between me, the writer, and you, the potential reader. Everything I’ve posted has been freely offered—and I’ve never included verbiage that begged for $$$, or paid subscribers, or coffees I’d like you to buy me. That will continue to always be the case.

So, I’m just gonna do me from now on. Unabashedly. Whenever the muse calls, for she always calls from deep soul, is when I’ll hit the send button. After my dad died, he being the source of my Substack motivation initially, I’ve always written for an audience of one, me—to help me get clear on the Alchemy of My Journey in this shared crucible called “our lives.”

If you remain along for the ride, thank you. Though I write for me, I am grateful for you. And if you gain something from my humble voice, I will always fall deeper into humility and gratefulness. I would love to hear if you do—take anything away, that is.

But…that’s always on you.

🙏🏼