William James writes “If this life be not a real fight, in which something is eternally gained for the universe by success, it is no better than a game of private theatricals from which one may withdraw at will. But it feels like a real fight, as if there were something really wild in the universe which we, with all our idealities and faithfulnesses, are needed to redeem.” 1
and then June Jordan writes:
Each day puts up a fight, throws all kind of punches. I walk around, perplexed, indignant, stung. I don’t actually know what hit me, might never find out. I try to stand up again, to walk; I try to throw a punch back. I try to even have some bounce in my step. The music’s good, so that helps. The people look good too, are mostly good. It is all quite breathtaking.
At times, looking at the people around me I recall how hard they are fighting. Recalling this, they start to glow: the dignity of their efforts, their insistence, radiates from them. Tooth and nail, I’m telling you. Real scrap. It quiets me down. Ease up on them, for crying out loud. And yourself too. There’s enough war without you adding to it. All of us are reeling.
Hanif Abdurraqib asks, If Life Is As Short As Our Ancestors Insist, Why Isn’t Everything I Want Already At My Feet and it touches on, gets at the sense of bewilderment I feel in the middle of this long fight. I didn’t know it would be like this. I didn’t know how much it would ask of me.
from The Writing Life, Annie Dillard, beginning of ch 6 (doesn’t include part about redemption) ↩