One of the joys of living in this particular apartment in downtown Lowell, Massachusetts is the view. I am sitting in a chair rescued from the sidewalks of Carlisle, Pennsylvania by my brother James years ago, and to my left is a city. It contains brick buildings, rooftop patios, elder housing, a community college campus, streetlights, trees: vibrancy. If I were to open the window and drop an item, it would fall headfirst into an alleyway. There are afternoons when I hear young adults shouting; one of the employees of the nearby Dunkin Donuts is taking trash to the dumpster, and her friends are helping.
This year has been so full of joyous moments that I think it may be one of the best ones yet. Oh, to rot with ambivalence: it is the greatest year of my life. I have catalogued a few reasons why in prior Weekly E-mails, but they all can be found under the header, "I am alive." I have many wonderful years in my history, but I can just as easily find weaknesses and darknesses in them. That's only because I know how they end; the past is the past and I'm existing in a beautiful Now.
On recent days, I have sat in this chair re-reading pages from The Portable Emerson, a textbook I first explored in the fall of 2007. It sparked a revolution in me, and brilliance radiated from those moments. I find myself realizing that many of my thoughts from the past few months have antecedents in this book. There may be a version of Paul Riley who wishes his reflections and words were completely original. But the Paul Riley of this day is grateful for the reminder that we already know everything we need to know.
This country, the United States of America, is my home. I love it, unconditionally. Yet I still feel like I must qualify that love, to hesitate. I hear so many voices crying out, "You have forgotten about us!" No, child. I could never. My love for you is the reason why I believe so deeply that these are better days for all of us. Our parents and grandparents and great-grandparents and every ancestor going back to the single-celled organisms of primordial Earth lived through worse. How do I know? Because they told us how bad it was, and those stories have been passed down through songs and stories and our very DNA.
We tell ourselves that this country has never been more divided. That seems...an interesting thought. It resonates emotionally, perhaps because the human beings alive now within the boundaries of the United States of America have never felt more divided. But the beautiful thing about America is her age. She has lived for scores of years, birthed from minds of creatures who wanted something better than what they had. Compromises were made for reasons we still struggle to reconcile. But a nation that claims to be free must practice that freedom. And when people became afraid of the future, they tried to leave. The Civil War, at its core, was a recommitment to integrity: if we are to be successful as a nation, we must remain a nation. Once you are part of the United States, you are forever a part of it.
On bad days, that feels like a curse. But examine that feeling further and you see it as a blessing. There is no darkness that cannot be illuminated, there is no death that cannot yield new life, there is no permanence except what we cling to. In our darkest days, there were poets and preachers and parents who spoke of possibility. It may be cold now, but the sun will return. It may be hot, but the shade offers respite. We ride the waves of the oceans that surround us, and we return to the shore.
I will not attempt to tell you how to feel or where to put your faith. I do not know you well enough to assume such confidence. What I will tell you: how I feel and where my faith is. I love my country, and my faith is in the people of the United States. We will continue together the work of building a more perfect union.
With love,
Paul