It was a chilly early spring night at the juxtaposition of a dead end street and what had been a corn field the season before, the remnants of the fall harvest still standing as lone sentinels in the softened earth. The sun was beginning to disappear on the horizon and the stars were coming out, one by one as the light dimmed to the west.
A couple sat in their car, watching the sunset across the barren field. In the distance, the still barren trees were outlined by the colors of the sky as the sun went to bed, enhanced in beauty only by the clouds that drifted across the edge of the vista, turning to orange, pink, and lavender by the rays they managed to catch. The couple were waiting for the sun to disappear and the heavenly bodies to begin to appear.
Soon, they were joined in company by a woman who was just as crazy, or so she said with a chuckle, as they were. More people soon gathered, watching and waiting for an alignment of planets that were to grace the night sky, arcing from the horizon to the quarter moon gracing the sky overhead. There was friendly banter and connections made. There was a great deal of sky watching and neck craning and looking through binoculars. For about a half hour of an evening, these random people laughed, joked and looked for celestial bodies amongst the dimming light. There was cooperation and camaraderie.
It was a different kind of mood than the one that seemed to pulse Monday evening when news broke of yet another school shooting in Nashville, Tennessee. It was a different kind of mood than it was just a few weeks ago when a tragedy hit our somewhat tight-knit community (see my posts here and here for details if interested). Those sorrows still pulse throughout the community, the nation, and the world. But for a little bit on a week night, there was amity and concord. There was hope and magic.
Augustine of Hippo supposedly penned the following quote:
“Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are.”
(Tangent here – I say he supposedly wrote it because while it is attributed to him, some scholars don’t think he actually wrote it. But it’s nevertheless a beautiful sentiment.)
It’s easy in the light of injustices to rail against them. It’s easy to offer words of prayer or good thoughts and platitudes. Justified anger is a part of the process of hope. But that’s as far as some people ever seem to get.
But others find the courage to make the changes for the betterment of society and the world. They take the uncomfortable steps beyond thoughts and prayers and turn to action to change the injustices they face. Their hope becomes a reality.
I’m currently editing the next novel in the Portals Series, titled Heirs to the Realm. It tells the stories of three different characters, Serena (Rena) and Kohlberht (Berh), who are two of the heirs to the different magics of the Portal Seeker (the Sage and the Seeker), and then the story of the Heir to the Dynast, Ariadne. But it’s not told from Ariadne’s point of view, but rather the view of Esperance Martinez, a child from the realm of Earth. Esperance holds on to her own brand of hope despite the forces of evil that seek to take away the magic she clings to. She not only demonstrates her anger, but embraces the courage to clutch hope as well.
I’m hoping to have it released by Fall 2023.
And now, I’m going back to the other night and the random strangers the other half and I spent a part of the evening with. Did it end up the way my other half and I expected? No. We only made out two of the five planets that were supposed to be aligned as two went off into the horizon before we could spot them and a third was far too faint to be seen. But despite the frozen fingers and faces, the cloud cover that obscured our view a little and the lack of starry appearances, we still had a magical time. There was joy in the chatter, a sense of calming peace, and a mutuality of love of astronomy. There was also hope that better things, no matter what, were still to come as long as we seek to find the magic to take our anger and our courage to do better.
Hope’s two daughters deserve a chance to both shine.
Stay magical, friends.
Write your own story.
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2 thoughts on “Hope has two daughters”
I love the feeling when perfect strangers bond and unite over a common cause or interest. You captured the feeling and camaraderie perfectly. Of course I’d rather it be over something like planets aligning rather than a shared tragedy any day. The two tragedies you listed made me think of 9/12…the day after the World Trade Center fell. The patriotism and unity that swept the country for a few days after that horrific event faded all too quickly. Why can’t we sustain more of that feeling and behavior in the every day, instead of hording it until a tragedy strikes? Think of how much nicer this world would be for all of us. 💞