I received a bunch of flowers at the beginning of this week. They are magnificent and varying shades of pale pink. I just Googled ‘peonies’ because I was trying to describe them for you but Google has revealed they are probably not peonies. The point I have been attempting to make about these flowers is that they look like life in a vase, if life were mostly filled with goodness. The only person who has a life comparable to these flowers is my sister. She exudes a certain lightness and enthusiasm in all situations, including s**t situations. As my friend’s boyfriend said the other night, “Em’s sister has such great energy.” She does. And this week, for one great week, I have lived a little like her. The arrival of these varying shades of pink delivered an odd metaphor for my immediate future.
As anyone who has experienced a depleted surge capacity can attest, the last half of this year has felt a little like walking with a weight tied to your chest. Yet as I walked home from my run on Tuesday evening, the water was bluer and the sky was brighter and the weight had lifted. This is perhaps because news of a Biden presidency has sent a wave of joyful optimism barrelling through parts of the United States and much of the world. This is perhaps because Kamala Harris has become the first woman, first Black person, and first South Asian American person to become US Vice-President-elect. This is perhaps because the sun has finally reemerged in Sydney - for a period greater than three hours - for the first time in two weeks. Or, perhaps, it’s a combination of all three. Nevertheless, these coinciding events have renewed a sense of energy and a sense of faith in a year that has depleted us of both. And I have been holding onto this good mood like a two-year-old incapable of sharing a toy. In awful times, we tell ourselves that no feeling is permanent. In good times, we delude ourselves of this truth.
As I walked home on Tuesday evening with a newfound lightness, the voice of author Maya Angelou bellowed through my headphones. In an episode of The Paris Review podcast she was describing her writing. “I am trying to find out who I am, who we are, how we lose and win and stand up and go on from darkness into darkness,” she said. I have thought about this line everyday this week; while waiting for my morning coffee, while cooking dinner, while making the bed. I have been thinking about what allows us - or what pushes us - to go on from darkness into darkness. I have been thinking, in short, about faith.
In his 1963 book, For People Under Pressure, David Harold Fink wrote about faith in a non-religious sense. He declared that faith is an attitude. “It’s a readiness to act with intuitive confidence even when only one step ahead is visible,” he wrote. “Faith is not mysterious except in the sense that all of life is a mystery.” The author and psychiatrist believes that faith involves not just a state of trust in yourself, but in the human collective, and in the universe which we can only vaguely comprehend. This description sounds overwhelming and unrealistic until you rediscover the small ways faith - in ourselves, in others, in the universe - emerges in our everyday lives. Faith is putting your money in a bank account or letting a dentist fill a cavity in your tooth. Faith is paying a barista to make your coffee or driving your car to work. As Fink explained, when you get in your car, you do not know that you will arrive at your destination; you do not know what is going to happen along the way; but you do know that whatever happens, you will deal with it. This is putting faith into action.
When we consider faith to be a belief in some grand future, it feels delusional or unattainable. Yet when we realise how often it appears in our days through small, quiet acts, we realise how often we rely on it. Suddenly it seems more achievable, more reliable. And for those of us who have lost a little faith this year, in the human collective or in ourselves, it helps to renew our faith in faith itself. Because faith is the thing that keeps us going from darkness into darkness. It encourages us to take another step when big plans are thrown off course. In fact, the next step is all we ever really need. “Man is not a farsighted creature,” wrote Fink. “All any of us can see ahead is the next step; the rest is in darkness. But it’s normal, healthy and right for us to take that first step because once we have taken it we can rely on our ability to see far enough ahead to take still another step.”
A year ago, I would have told you that what keeps us going from darkness into darkness is the hope that there will be lightness around the very next bend. I don’t believe it’s that simple anymore. There will always be uncertainty and challenge and something difficult to grapple with. What allows us to walk up those mountains with faith is the brief glimpses of lightness and joy we experience along the way. Those moments - whether they last a minute or an hour or a day - renew our faith in this thing called life. They restore our energy, sustain our souls, allowing us to continue moving through the darkness. Maya Angelou explained that the theme of her work is a belief that we may encounter many defeats, but we must not be defeated. “I believe that a diamond is the result of extreme time and pressure,” she said. “Less time is crystal, less than that is coal, less time than that it’s fossilised leaves, less than that it’s just plain dirt… Maybe it’s imperative that we encounter the defeats.” If we deny ourselves of the darkness, we deny ourselves of the diamond. If we deny ourselves of the next step, we deny ourselves of the world.
Some related (and unrelated) recommendations:
This article is my favourite article of the week. From Nick Cave's newsletter, The Red Hand Files. For anyone questioning their life path, this is for you.
I found this article on the Biden era (and the future of American democracy) the most contextual, informative read on the election. It is written by The New Yorker editor-in-chief, David Remnick.
This article on Kamala Harris making history was excellent, as well as this earlier profile on her.
These photos from the U.S. filled me with joy.
I enjoyed this article on The Cut which explores whether our problems this year are too big for therapy.
This episode of The Paris Review podcast with Maya Angelou was nourishing. You can also read the full interview from the '90s here.
This video of Obama sums up my mood this week. And his eternal mood.
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