I've spent the last few days specifically not contemplating what's possible for my life--I've been experiencing it. From the vagaries surrounding a jazz festival I'm planning, to the inspiration from Alter to write this blog (I love you, brother), to the water-drop sound of 49 people making nebulous promises to lead better lives, I have traversed from the land of stagnant hopeism to the lush playing fields of experience and awareness. No more is there a layer of rust emabalming my functionality, and a few days ago i would have said that it is my "hope" that everybody else could feel the same. But today is today, and today I know that "hope" is a four-letter euphemism for having already given up.
Ghandi didn't "hope" to create peace; he refused to eat or drink until the Muslims and Hindus stopped slaughtering each other in Calcutta. David ben Gurion didn't "hope" for Israel; instead, he delivered--with tentacled masses of of whiting curls towering over his person--the address that made Israel a reality.
And that's what we're all here for, anway--creating reality. Our words create new dimensions of being, and with each word we can either create or destroy a universe. The world was created with a word, literally, and it's in the process of devolution because world leaders have forgotten how to implement speech in such a way that mollifies conflict. Since we're all about to celebrate Thanksgiving, it's best to get into the holiday and embrace the possiblity of a benevolent reality, full of grace, power, and well-spoken holiday wishes.
I don't know how many people will read this, and the latent defeatist in me would cut this short and resign this composition to mediocre results. My real self, though, is creating the possibility that gaggles of people will read this, get a little inspired, and, even if just for an ethereal, ephemeral moment, get enrolled in the world of possibilities. Creating the possibility of possibilities is the first step towards empowerment and peace, and it is the thing for which I am most thankful this holiday.
I'm also thankful for being enveloped in a world of support--family, friends, coworkers, neighbors, roommates, even people with whom I haven't communicated in years are all constructive substance. I'm happy that I get to bond with my iPod on the subway every day, and that I manifest a genuine emotive response when I type of this computer.
When the Pilgrims came to this country, they did so bearing the smallpox pandemic and a sea of resentment for the indigenous peoples. We haven't changed so much since then--we're still spreading pandemics, definitely still harboring resentment, and we're maniacally addicted to displacing what has taken root and positing fleeting constructs in its stead. It's time to rectify Thanksgiving, and it has to start with a possiblity.
I'm starting that now, and then taking a nap, and when I wake up I will stare at the ceiling in my room and give thanks.
Stay powerful New York,