Hope

One of my favorite poems is by Emily Dickinson:

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Literature is something that I love so much, and often turn to it when I am able to loose myself for a few hours at a time. This poem strikes a chord in me, especially now, when the world around us seems sad and depressed, as friends and family all struggle together to stay afloat.

One thing I love is how Dickinson uses the metaphorical image of a bird to describe the abstract idea of hope. By giving Hope feathers, she begins to create an image hope in our minds. The imagery of feathers conjures up hope in itself. With feathers we can fly away from any situation; and in contrast, broken feathers or a broken wing grounds a person, and conjures up the image of needy person who has been beaten down by life. With broken wings... they no longer have the power to hope.

Dickinson uses the imagery of a bird’s continuous song to represent eternal hope. Even on the coldest nights, I can hear the birds singing.... they never stop their song of hope. The fifth stanza “And sweetest in the gale is heard” conjures up images of a bird’s song of hope whistling above the sound of gale force winds and offering the promise that soon the storm will end.

Its not all upbeat in this poem, as it touches on the darkness that is in the shadows... Dickinson uses a powerful image of a person abashing the bird (Hope) that gives comfort and warmth for so many. The destroyer of Hope causes pain and soreness... which is actually what turns around and hurts them the most.

In the line “I’ve heard it in the chillest lands,” Dickinson offers the reader another reason to have hope. It is heard even in the coldest, saddest lands. Hope is eternal and everywhere. The birds song of hope is even heard “And on the strangest sea.” Hope exists for everyone.

In this troubled and sad economy, which has undeniably crept into our precious hobby (an outlet for so many of us) we must never loose this hope. As artists, it is even more important that we must never give up; never throw in the towel because things look bleak. We must always remember WHY we create... we create because that is what we love to do. We create because it is part of the very fiber of our beings; it beats in our hearts and runs through our blood. Regardless of how much money we make (or don't make), it should never be only about that bottom line... it should be about the process, the journey, and that it is something we love.

Times are tough for everyone, and so now more than ever we need to emmerse ourselves in these things we love the most. Collecting, painting, sculpting, art in general... these are the things that give us joy, and thereby give us hope, and that will see us through.