"Be Thankful that You Have Arrived at the Next Question"

Birthday Reflection 2023

I think of a certain quote from Hemingway from time to time. In his book, The Sun also Rises, there is a moment when, simply said, the main character is overwhelmed by sadness alone at night in his apartment after time with friends. In open reflection to us, he narrates, “It is awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing.” 

It’s a rich moment, and I think of it when I think of departures and how they soften me. I’m usually riddled with anxiety about those moments. Sometimes it is excitement. Sometimes not. I am loose with raging emotions, and I want so many things at once. Today, on my birthday departure, I was simply ready to cry. 

I’ve been working on this thought since my birthday in June, and I think I understand it enough to actually say something about it now. 

For my birthday, I took a small day trip to Richmond, Virginia to see their museum of fine art. It is a gem. I woke up early for the train. And, already, I was full of anxiety. 

In a creative writing seminar in grad school, the professor wisely guided us to face ourselves. We were discussing how to get the full voice of a poem, and she asked us: “if sorrow had a voice, what would it say? Part of your job as an artist is to get to a place to listen to it”. Very wise. 

I am prepared to listen. 

I arrived at the station in the early morning, around 6, still having appreciation for the birds starting to sing (they bring me much joy these days). I struggled with deciding on whether to eat now, get coffee, wait and see what might be in this town, but also missing out on a good train ride because I’m hungry, etc. etc. It occurred to me that I was maybe just fussy and should get something now. 

I boarded the train with my little scone and cappuccino with laptop bag and book. The morning was cool and the sun was not breaking through the overcast clouds yet. It looked to maybe rain later that day. 

There is a unique brilliance to life on trains. I am entirely convinced of this. There is truly nothing like reflecting through a train window, cozy and pensive all at once, on a cloudy day, sprinting over the ground.  

The book I was reading was a new book of poems I found by the poet Saadi Youusef, an Iraqi poet whose book carried the blessing of Mahmoud Darwish, the lion himself. Reading this book slowly, having a nice coffee, taking time for a trip away to see some new place and visit art, my heart bursted with thorough contentment. “This is life,” my heart sang. In between poems, my heartbeat was strong, and I had the full resolve of an epiphany: my career is the vehicle I will use to create stability and prosperity so that I can have more days like this, more time for slowness and poetry. 

In the writing community, it seems to be the only way through, by demonstration, to being a poet is to work at an underappreciated adjunct role at a community college teaching essential writing skills, staying financially overwhelmed but “nurtured” by working so much with words and literature. Historically, it seems to me that the poets who were able to work other careers, that radically nourished their work in necessary ways, are seen as only part-time. William Carlos Williams or Octavio Paz come to mind, a doctor and diplomat respectively. 

First Birthday Epiphany

I want to be this, to be like them. I want to afford myself the recapture of my daily life such that I can move more slowly and have more time with the people that I love and the things that I love, specifically my sense of purpose: writing.  

The train was long enough and slow enough to protect this moment for me. I arrived in Richmond with stillness. I walked around the area of the train station for a moment, found the bus station, and made my way to the day’s main event, the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. 

I had a lovely time there. It is a beautiful space. I walked around for the entire day seeing incredible things. I spent time in the African Art section thinking on ways to worship. I moved through the Egyptian Art section thinking on ways to die. I gave time to the Modern Art section. 

Virginia Museum of Fine Art

The museum itself was gorgeous. It brought to me the idea that all modern spaces work to produce clarity in the way that everything is so open and transparent: glass walls and immense negative space around artwork. 

There is a sculpture garden, and I was there when the rain started. It was a refreshing wind and the garden walk up was a nice lookout over the museum grounds. 

Second Birthday Epiphany

As I was leaving, the second main emotion of the day came to me: I was suddenly heartbroken. A distinct, remembered ache filled my heart, and I felt privately demolished standing there in the wind and among the sculptures. “Who will know me now?” I don’t know how else to say it: I was beyond knowing. I thought of all the people who have wished me strength, sent me hope, told me I can go far, and plowed back through the city to the bus and then train station. I had some calls with friends to look forward to, and that is what made me feel I could continue: other people believe in me. 

I brought this moment to a therapy session soon after. I am grateful for this wisdom: “be thankful that you have arrived at the next question.” 

More soon, 

Trevor 

Now-reading affiliate links: 

1. Our Migrant Souls: A Meditation on Race and the Meanings and Myths of “Latino” - Héctor Tobar: Amazon | Bookshop

2. Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals - Oliver Burkeman: Amazon | Bookshop

3. Arabian Love Poems - Nazir Qabbani: Amazon

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