On the train home a few nights ago, there was a delay. So we all sat about, suspended.
Beside me was a person in a salmon-colored shirt and tight-fitting jean jacket, with dreads dappled in gold cuffs. It was a signal issue, the conductor said. As each of us bartered in our heads whether to get off and catch the local or not, two additional people get on. One sat next to me and began eating his mac and cheese. The other, sat across from him and did the same. The one opposite me wore all black. Black dress pants and loafers. His shoe size - enormous. A black button down, open and exposed to right above his belly button. An oversized black fur coat. His dreads were dyed blond and matched his caterpillar eyebrows.
Salmon shirt says: “are you going to share that?” The two look confused until they realized; “you’re Billy’s brother!” Handshakes and hugs circulate. They are in each other’s orbit. It is sweet, they are happy to run into each other. They invite each other to various things happening in their lives. Though I’m enjoying eavesdropping on them, I’ve decided I can’t handle this delay any longer and get up to leave. At the exact moment I’m exiting the conductor says, we’re going to get moving again, so I slip back in beside them.
At the next stop, another man gets on. More hugs and kissing. Somehow salmon-colored shirt knows this person too. He exclaims, “I guess the universe is reminding me that I’m not alone, that I am really where I’m meant to be.” He says this jokingly, but you can feel he means it.
At the next stop a woman gets on wearing almost the exact same outfit as the man across from me, the only difference is her plum-colored lipstick. They notice one another immediately and begin exchanging compliments and chatting as though this was a pre-arranged date. As though they knew this was the plan all along. “Where are your people from?” she asks him, explaining that he looks like many of her family members. “Nigeria” he responds. She nods. She invites him to an exhibit at the Dyckman Farmhouse Museum where she is showing her work, a place that I didn’t know existed. I think this is what I was meant to gain from the encounter.
At 145th street, the group disbands as half of them disembark. They all hug and kiss and to plum lipped lady, big shoe man says as they grasp hands, “have a nice life” and he really means it.
When I am out of alignment or coming from a place of lack, I can feel bitter about the current state of the world that we find ourselves in. In all the ways, but of course right now I’m thinking mostly politically. How did we get here? How can such a huge swath of the country believe in a man like him? To think that a large portion of our population feels represented by a person that makes me ill. I feel such sadness that I’m (many of us) in a position to question whether to bring a child into this world, because will there even be a habitable planet for them to live within? Angry at the misogyny we’re forced to swim through daily…and on and on. But what if - and stay with me because this could be perceived as spiritual bypassing, but I really don’t mean it to be - what if this is happening exactly as it is meant to? Okay no, that does feel a bit bypass-y. What if this is just exactly as it is, and I am exactly as I am (you, too), simply here at this moment in time, meant to be a part of this dynamic. Meant to be part of whatever comes next. Meant to be on this train.
John O’Donohue, in his book The Invisible Embrace of Beauty, talks about beauty and our capacity for imagination as interwoven.
“The German philosopher Hans-George Gadamer, in an interview shortly before his death last year, said: ‘The integrity of a society demonstrates itself in how that society engages in contradiction.’ The imagination is both fascinated and stimulated by the presences that cluster within a contradiction. It does not perceive contradiction as the enemy of truth; rather it sees here an interesting intensity. The imagination is always more loyal to the deeper unity of everything. It has patience with contradiction because there it glimpses new possibilities. It always sees beyond facts and situations, to the cluster of possibilities in which each thing is shrouded. In a sense, this is what beauty is: possibility that enlarges and delights the heart.”1
I’m convinced Kamala Harris will win. I’m not superstitious, so don’t worry, to my mind I didn’t jinx it (sorry if you are). What I’m starting to get curious about is why are we in this moment of immense contradiction together? And what future is possible for us? My plan for these next few days as we sway, suspended, is to canvass, believe that we are going to win, and imagine a more beautiful future.
I really enjoyed these three pieces from the past week.
One from
,about guarding against pessimism and Oprah.
Another from my friend
about the toxic masculinity sickening our society, and the necessity of building a healthy culture for boys and men.
And finally, a piece by my father
, about his encounter with a low-information voter and the preciousness of democracy.
John O’Donohue, The Invisible Embrace of Beauty (New York: Harper Collins, 2004), 138-139.