16 June 2020
Email your future self
15 June 2020
Day 94
"...one ought every day at least to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words." -Goethe
An excerpt for today from Henry David Thoreau's Walden:
The life in us is like the water in the river. It may rise this year higher than man has ever known it, and flood the parched uplands ; even this may be the eventful year, which will drown out all our muskrats. It was not always dry land where we dwell. I see far inland the banks which the stream anciently washed, before science began to record its freshets. Every one has heard the story which has gone the rounds of New England, of a strong and beautiful bug which came out of the dry leaf of an old table of apple-tree wood, which had stood in a farmer's kitchen for sixty years, first in Connecticut, and afterward in -Massachusetts, - from an egg deposited in the living tree many years earlier still, as appeared by counting the annual layers beyond it ; which was heard gnawing out for several weeks, hatched perchance by the heat of an urn. Who does not feel his faith in a resurrection and immortality strengthened by hearing of this? Who knows what beautiful and winged life, whose egg has been buried for ages under many concentric layers of woodenness in the dead dry life of society, deposited at first in the alburnum of the green and living tree, which has been gradually converted into the semblance of its well-scasoned tomb, - heard perchance gnawing out now for years by the astonished family of man, as they sat round the festive board, -may unexpectedly come forth from amidst society's most trivial and handselled furniture, to enjoy its perfect summer life at last!
I do not say that John or Jonathan will realize all this ; but such is the character of that morrow which mere lapse of time can never make to dawn. The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us. Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star .
A song for today: "A Change is Gonna Come" by Sam Cooke
Cooke, Sam (1931-1964). "A Change is Gonna Come." Ain't That Good News, RCA Victor, 1964.
Thoreau, Henry David (1817-1862). "Conclusion. Walden. https://www.walden.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/Walden18Conclusion.pdf. Accessed 15 June 2020.
An excerpt for today from Henry David Thoreau's Walden:
The life in us is like the water in the river. It may rise this year higher than man has ever known it, and flood the parched uplands ; even this may be the eventful year, which will drown out all our muskrats. It was not always dry land where we dwell. I see far inland the banks which the stream anciently washed, before science began to record its freshets. Every one has heard the story which has gone the rounds of New England, of a strong and beautiful bug which came out of the dry leaf of an old table of apple-tree wood, which had stood in a farmer's kitchen for sixty years, first in Connecticut, and afterward in -Massachusetts, - from an egg deposited in the living tree many years earlier still, as appeared by counting the annual layers beyond it ; which was heard gnawing out for several weeks, hatched perchance by the heat of an urn. Who does not feel his faith in a resurrection and immortality strengthened by hearing of this? Who knows what beautiful and winged life, whose egg has been buried for ages under many concentric layers of woodenness in the dead dry life of society, deposited at first in the alburnum of the green and living tree, which has been gradually converted into the semblance of its well-scasoned tomb, - heard perchance gnawing out now for years by the astonished family of man, as they sat round the festive board, -may unexpectedly come forth from amidst society's most trivial and handselled furniture, to enjoy its perfect summer life at last!
I do not say that John or Jonathan will realize all this ; but such is the character of that morrow which mere lapse of time can never make to dawn. The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us. Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star .
A song for today: "A Change is Gonna Come" by Sam Cooke
Works Cited
Cooke, Sam (1931-1964). "A Change is Gonna Come." Ain't That Good News, RCA Victor, 1964.
Thoreau, Henry David (1817-1862). "Conclusion. Walden. https://www.walden.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/Walden18Conclusion.pdf. Accessed 15 June 2020.
10 June 2020
Day 89
"...one ought every day at least to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words." -Goethe
A poem for today: "lady liberty" by Tato Laviera
lady liberty
BY TATO LAVIERA
for liberty, your day filled in splendor,
july fourth, new york harbor, nineteen eighty-six,
midnight sky, fireworks splashing,
heaven exploding
into radiant bouquets,
wall street a backdrop of centennial adulation,
computerized capital angling cameras
celebrating the international symbol of freedom
stretched across micro-chips,
awacs surveillance,
wall-to-wall people, sailing ships,
gliding armies ferried
in pursuit of happiness, constitution adoration,
packaged television channels for liberty,
immigrant illusions
celebrated in the name of democratic principles,
god bless america, land of the star
spangled banner
that we love,
but the symbol suffered
one hundred years of decay
climbing up to the spined crown,
the fractured torch hand,
the ruptured intestines,
palms blistered and calloused,
feet embroidered in rust,
centennial decay,
the lady's eyes,
cataract filled, exposed
to sun and snow, a salty wind,
discolored verses staining her robe,
she needed re-molding, re-designing,
the decomposed body
now melted down for souvenirs,
lungs and limbs jailed
in scaffolding of ugly cubicles
incarcerating the body
as she prepared to receive
her twentieth-century transplant
paid for by pitching pennies,
hometown chicken barbecues,
marathons on america's main streets.
she heard the speeches:
the president's
the french and american partners,
the nation believed in her, rooted for the queen,
and lady liberty decided to reflect
on lincoln's emancipatory resoluteness
on washington's patriotism,
on jefferson's lucidity,
on william jennings bryan's socialism,
on woodrow wilson's league of nations,
on roosevelt's new deal,
on kennedy's ecumenical postures,
and on martin luther king's non-violence.
lady liberty decided to reflect
on lillian wald's settlements,
on helen keller's sixth sense,
on susan b. anthony's suffrage movement,
on mother cabrini's giving soul,
on harriet tubman's stubborn pursuit of freedom.
just before she was touched,
just before she was dismantled,
lady liberty spoke,
she spoke for the principles,
for the preamble,
for the bill of rights,
and thirty-nine peaceful
presidential transitions,
and, just before she was touched,
lady liberty wanted to convey
her own resolutions,
her own bi-centennial goals,
so that in twenty eighty-six,
she would be smiling and she would be proud.
and then, just before she was touched,
and then, while she was being re-constructed,
and then, while she was being celebrated,
she spoke.
if you touch me, touch ALL of my people
who need attention and societal repair,
give the tired and the poor
the same attention, AMERICA,
touch us ALL with liberty,
touch us ALL with liberty.
hunger abounds, our soil is plentiful,
our technology advanced enough
to feed the world,
to feed humanity's hunger . . .
but let's celebrate not our wealth,
not our sophisticated defense,
not our scientific advancements,
not our intellectual adventures.
let us concentrate on our weaknesses,
on our societal needs,
for we will never be free
if indeed freedom is subjugated
to trampling upon people's needs.
this is a warning,
my beloved america.
so touch me,
and in touching me
touch all our people.
do not single me out,
touch all our people,
touch all our people,
all our people
our people
people.
and then i shall truly enjoy
my day, filled in splendor,
july fourth, new york harbor,
nineteen eighty-six, midnight sky,
fireworks splashing,
heaven exploding
into radiant bouquets,
celebrating in the name of equality,
in the pursuit of happiness,
god bless america,
land of star
spangled banner
that we love.
A song for today: Nina Simone's "I Wish I Knew How it Would Feel to Be Free"
Works Cited
Laviera, Tato (1951-2013). "lady liberty." Poetryfoundation.org. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/58195/lady-liberty. Accessed 10 June 2020.
Simone, Nina (1933-2003). "I Wish I Knew How it Would Feel to Be Free." Silk & Soul, RCA Victor, 1967.
08 June 2020
Day 87
"...one ought every day at least to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words." -Goethe
A poem for my dad's birthday: "Of the Threads that Connect the Stars" by Martin Espada
Of the Threads that Connect the Stars
Did you ever see stars? asked my father with a cackle. He was not
speaking of the heavens, but the white flash in his head when a fist burst
between his eyes. In Brooklyn, this would cause men and boys to slap
the table with glee; this might be the only heavenly light we'd ever see.
speaking of the heavens, but the white flash in his head when a fist burst
between his eyes. In Brooklyn, this would cause men and boys to slap
the table with glee; this might be the only heavenly light we'd ever see.
I never saw stars. The sky in Brooklyn was a tide of smoke rolling over us
from the factory across the avenue, the mattresses burning in the junkyard,
the ruins where squatters would sleep, the riots of 1966 that kept me
locked in my room like a suspect. My father talked truce on the streets.
from the factory across the avenue, the mattresses burning in the junkyard,
the ruins where squatters would sleep, the riots of 1966 that kept me
locked in my room like a suspect. My father talked truce on the streets.
My son can see the stars through the tall barrel of a telescope.
He names the galaxies with the numbers and letters of astronomy.
I cannot see what he sees in the telescope, no matter how many eyes I shut.
I understand a smoking mattress better than the language of galaxies.
He names the galaxies with the numbers and letters of astronomy.
I cannot see what he sees in the telescope, no matter how many eyes I shut.
I understand a smoking mattress better than the language of galaxies.
My father saw stars. My son sees stars. The earth rolls beneath
our feet. We lurch ahead, and one day we have walked this far.
our feet. We lurch ahead, and one day we have walked this far.
A song for my dad's birthday: "We Can Work it Out" by the Beatles and by Stevie Wonder
Works Cited
The Beatles. "We Can Work it Out." "Day Tripper" (double A-side), Capitol, 1965.
Espada, Martin. "" Poets.org. https://poets.org/poem/threads-connect-stars. Accessed 8 June 2020.
Wonder, Stevie. "We Can Work it Out." Signed, Sealed & Delivered, Motown, 1970.
07 June 2020
Day 86
"...one ought every day at least to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words." -Goethe
Two songs for today: "Fight the Power" by the Isley Brothers and "Fight the Power" by Public Enemy
A poem for today from the Terrance Hayes collection American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin
American Sonnet for My Past and Future Assassin [When James Baldwin & Audre Lorde each lend]
When James Baldwin & Audre Lorde each lend
Stevie Wonder an eyeball, he immediately contends
With gravity, falling either to his knees or flat on
His luminous face. I’ve heard several versions
Of the story. In this one Audre Lorde dons
Immaculate French loafers, turtlenecked ballgown,
And afro halo. An eye-sized ruby glimmers on
A pinky ring that’s a hair too big for Jimmy Baldwin’s
Pinky. He’s blue with beauty. They’re accustomed
To being followed, but now, the eye-patch twins
Will be especially scary to white people. Looking upon
Them, Wonder’s head purples with plural visions
Of blackness, gavels, grapples, purrs, pens. Ten to one
Odds God also prefers to be referred to as They & Them.
Stevie Wonder an eyeball, he immediately contends
With gravity, falling either to his knees or flat on
His luminous face. I’ve heard several versions
Of the story. In this one Audre Lorde dons
Immaculate French loafers, turtlenecked ballgown,
And afro halo. An eye-sized ruby glimmers on
A pinky ring that’s a hair too big for Jimmy Baldwin’s
Pinky. He’s blue with beauty. They’re accustomed
To being followed, but now, the eye-patch twins
Will be especially scary to white people. Looking upon
Them, Wonder’s head purples with plural visions
Of blackness, gavels, grapples, purrs, pens. Ten to one
Odds God also prefers to be referred to as They & Them.
Works Cited
Hayes, Terrance. "When James Baldwin & Audre Lord each lend." American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin, 2018.
Isley Brothers. "Fight the Power." The Heat is On, T-neck Records, 1975.
Public Enemy. "Fight the Power." Fear of a Black Planet, CBS Records, 1990.
04 June 2020
Day 83
A poem for today: "Declaration" by Tracy K. Smith
Declaration
He has
sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people
He has plundered our—
ravaged our—
destroyed the lives of our—
taking away our—
abolishing our most valuable—
and altering fundamentally the Forms of our—
In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for
Redress in the most humble terms:
Our repeated
Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury.
We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration
and settlement here.
—taken Captive
on the high Seas
to bear—
Works Cited
D'Angelo. "Prayer." Black Messiah, RCA, 2014.
Smith, Tracy K. "Declaration." Poetryfoundation.org. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/147468/declaration-5b5a286052461. Accessed 4 June 2020.
03 June 2020
Day 82
A poem for today: An excerpt from Claudia Rankine's Don't Let Me Be Lonely
Don't Let Me Be Lonely [Mahalia Jackson is a genius.]
Mahalia Jackson is a genius. Or Mahalia Jackson has genius. The man I am with is trying to make a distinction. I am uncomfortable with his need to make this distinction because his inquiry begins to approach subtle shades of racism, classism, or sexism. It is hard to know which. Mahalia Jackson never finished the eighth grade, or Mahalia's genius is based on the collision of her voice with her spirituality. True spirituality is its own force. I am not sure how to respond to all this. I change the subject instead.
We have just seen George Wein's documentary, Louis Armstrong at Newport, 1971. In the auditorium a room full of strangers listened to Mahalia Jackson sing "Let There Be Peace on Earth" and stood up and gave a standing ovation to a movie screen. Her clarity of vision crosses thirty years to address intimately each of us. It is as if her voice has always been dormant within us, waiting to be awakened, even though "it had to go through its own lack of answers, through terrifying silence, (and) through the thousand darknesses of murderous speech."
Perhaps Mahalia, like Paul Celan, has already lived all our lives for us. Perhaps that is the definition of genius. Hegel says, "Each man hopes and believes he is better than the world which is his, but the man who is better merely expresses this same world better than the others." Mahalia Jackson sings as if it is the last thing she intends to do. And even though the lyrics of the song are, "Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me," I am hearing, Let it begin in me.
A song for today: Mahalia Jackson "Let There Be Peace on Earth"
Works Cited
Jackson, Mahalia (1911-1972). "Let There Be Peace on Earth." Good Evening Ev'rybody: In Celebration With Louis Armstrong, 2010.
Rankine, Claudia. "[Mahalia Jackson is a genius]" Don't Let Me Be Lonely, https://poets.org/lesson-plan/teach-poem-dont-let-me-be-lonely-mahalia-jackson-genius-claudia-rankine. Accessed 2 June 2020.
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