Here we are, “pushing the fragrance of hope / the promise of resurrection” (bell hooks, “Appalachian Elegy”). Smelling hope, believing the promise, counting on rising. Here we are.

Where have we been? “Snub end of a dismal year,” a poet offers. Where does this year leave us? “Even the questions are compromise” (Charles Wright, “On Reading Lao Tzu Again in the New Year”). Yes, enough questions about 2021.

Though long-beguiled by wonder, this year I grew increasingly weary and then completely out of questions. Starting with the January 6th attack on the United States Capitol, asking questions compounded my confusion. At times I despaired at the mounting damage caused by those roaming in rage, uncontrollably angry and irrational. Now, at year’s end I’m permanently rejecting their poison. I won’t look back. May ignorant cruelty, their underlying ailment, always defy understanding. Let irrationality and anger drown in quicksand.

The high road, sunlit, whistles an irresistible invitation.

Prepare for takeoff into new everything. Three beacons of light shine. A telescope orbits. A statue melts. A philosopher speaks about love.

The James Webb Space Telescope will orbit the sun. The sun! Rocket science far beyond a marvel, how majestic and humbling. This space telescope will study the atmospheres of planets well beyond our solar system. Are these planets habitable? Wait, are they inhabited? Its observation point sits a million miles away—its mission the study of over 13 billion years of cosmic history. The telescope can capture infrared light and peer back into the cosmos to learn about the universe in its infancy. Human ability, human possibility astounds. Take a peek at our Home.

“Charlottesville’s Robert E. Lee Statue Will Be Melted Down, Transformed into New Art.” I also melt as I stare at Nora McGreevy’s headline and read her informative article. If 1100 pounds of bronze can transform into raw material for spanking new artwork, then this country’s abusive past can transform into a kind future. That statue and our hearts deserve softening. If the Webb telescope can travel billions of years back in time, this country can go back at least 400 years. Back to the future indeed.

No philosopher could combust a classroom like bell hooks. In “The Revolutionary Writing of bell hooks,” Hua Hsu delves into hooks’s “pulsing, tireless brain.” Such firepower, her insistence on the necessity of loving one’s whole self to love another wholly. Cool down, students (and teacher). End soon, office hours. Open fast, car door. While it took the class two weeks to discuss All About Love, now all can savor bell hooks, at her best, in these thirty seconds. “To truly choose to love is heroic.”

A telescope orbits. A statue melts. A philosopher deems loving heroic.

We’ve taxied 2021’s long runway. One day very soon, light as a feather, we’ll lift up into cloudless skies.

Three versions of “This Little Light of Mine” prepare us for takeoff. Odetta strikes the first match. “Thursday gave me a little more grace” and “I’m gonna let it shine!” Brightening. Mavis Staples adds the promise of “No more sorrow / No more pain.” Heightening. Cindy Mizelle lends her sidekick street cred, horns blow, and faces beam “every day, every day, every day.” Lightening.

Light of yours. Light of mine. Light of ours.