hope vs optimism

 

hope is the dream of a soul awake

excerpts from Prisoners of Hope by Cornel West

Over 30 years after the cowardly murder of Martin Luther King, Jr., black America sits on the brink of collective disaster. Yet most of our fellow citizens deny this black despair, downplay this black rage and blind themselves to the omens in our midst. So now, as in the past, we prisoners of hope in desperate times must try to speak our fallible truths, expose the vicious lies and bear our imperfect witness….

…The country is in deep trouble. We’ve forgotten that a rich life consists fundamentally of serving others, trying to leave the world a little better than you found it. This is true at the personal level. But there’s also a political version, which has to do with what you see when you get up in the morning and look in the mirror and ask yourself whether you are simply wasting your time on the planet or spending it in an enriching manner. We need a moral prophetic minority of all colors who muster the courage to question the powers that be, the courage to be impatient with evil and patient with people, and the courage to fight for social justice. In many instances we will be stepping out on nothing, hoping to land on something. That’s the history of black folks in the past and present, and of those of us who value history and struggle. Our courage rests on a deep democratic vision of a better world that lures us and a blood-drenched hope that sustains us.

This hope is not the same as optimism. Optimism adopts the role of the spectator who surveys the evidence in order to infer that things are going to get better. Yet we know that the evidence does not look good. The dominant tendencies of our day are unregulated global capitalism, racial balkanization, social breakdown, and individual depression. Hope enacts the stance of the participant who actively struggles against the evidence in order to change the deadly tides of wealth inequality, group xenophobia, and personal despair. Only a new wave of vision, courage, and hope can keep us sane – and preserve the decency and dignity requisite to revitalize our organizational energy for the work to be done. To live is to wrestle with despair yet never to allow despair to have the last word.

when insults had class

the pen is mightier

“I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure.”
— Clarence Darrow

“He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary.”
— William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway)

“Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?”
— Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)

“He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know.”
— Abraham Lincoln

“I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn’t it.”
— Groucho Marx

“I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a friend…. if you have one.”
— George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill

“Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second… if there is one.”
— Winston Churchill, in response

“He is a self-made man and worships his creator.”
— John Bright

“I’ve just learned about his illness. Let’s hope it’s nothing trivial.”
— Irvin S. Cobb

“There’s nothing wrong with you that reincarnation won’t cure.”
— Jack E. Leonard

“They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human knowledge.”
— Thomas Brackett Reed

“He loves nature in spite of what it did to him.”
— Forrest Tucker

“His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork.”
— Mae West

list via http://scumblr.tumblr.com

re: miranda july

I love this because I have some of these same thoughts when I stand in line at the school where I vote….

Here’s why you should vote: you are going to really love it, the whole strange procedure. You get to walk right into a building that you would never normally be allowed in, often an elementary school. You can pause in the hallway to look at all the weird school-art and feel the eerie vibe of hundreds of kids living their endless kid lives right nearby. Then you follow the arrows to the voting room and look at the faces of the volunteers – who are these people? There is a hush of secrecy, the voting booth is clunky, the whole thing seems fake somehow. You consider filling in all the bubbles, like you did on the SATs. But you don’t. You vote. You walk back outside feeling like you just gave blood or something, lightheaded from citizenry. You are wearing a sticker that says “I Voted” and you wish you could continue to get stickers like this throughout the day: I Ate Dinner, I Went To Sleep, I Got Out Of Bed, I Went To Work.  But alas, it is just this one thing that we all do together, savor it.- Miranda July 

mairakalman