Fluttering

Hope is the thing with feathers…

~ Emily Dickinson

No, it’s not, I want badly to scream back, because the thing, the poem, keeps flitting through my mind when I need to concentrate.

No, it’s not, I repeated. Maybe to myself. Maybe to someone else. 

It’s invisible. Or nothing. Or lost. (Like me?) 

I can tell I am getting anxious, because anxiety is a feeling I know well. It’s like there are two of me, on opposite sides of an issue. Unable to agree. Positive and negative. Black and white. Yes and no. Some have called it my stubbornness. Others have said I could never make up my mind because it was my astrological sign. (I would never pay any attention those those folks.)

Yet here I am again, my anxiety at its finest, because I’m trying to do an assignment for a creative writing course. We’re supposed to write something about hope, which has an off-putting religious angle that I will not entertain, and nothing more. I’ve never been much of a reader of inspirational (motivational?) writing. Never needed or wanted to read that stuff.

The truth is, I don’t believe in hope. I do not have hope for anything. No, it’s not due to depression. You don’t need to feel sorry for me, because I don’t feel like I’m missing an item I need in my life. I just have never had any luck with the thing, nor could I hope (!!) to write an unforgettable poem like Emily’s. There’s a reason why I’m taking this course. Maybe something will come of it… you know…

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

Oh, by the way, I’ve come to feel Emily’s poem is a bit misleading. It would seem, on first glance, to be drawn to the feathered thing. However, the I in the poem is at least ambiguous about their interaction: 

I've heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

The feathered thing hasn’t paid much attention to the speaker, who may be able to identify it, to hear it everywhere, but has herself had no contact with it. She is therefore hopeless, as I am. That this assignment will get written without being religious or corny. Moreover, it is unoriginal, but hard as I try, when looking for inspiration to write about the topic, all I can come up with is Emily’s too-famous poem about a being that flutters about. I don’t know what I was thinking when I took this class.

And now I can’t ever get the old poem out of my mind, maybe that’s why. There is no place to perch inside me. The professor who gave us the assignment must have known her topic would be a challenge; she must be testing us. What could we come up with that would be original? Of course some in the class will do a great job. They’ll read out loud and we’ll all be awed by their writing. That won’t happen with me.

The fact is, outside of the self-help writing, all the other examples of (that which I dare not name) sound like they’re straight out of the nineteenth century. I’m fixated on a lovely but over-cited poem by a poet everyone knows. I’m stuck, I can’t move in any direction. My thoughts … well, I feel a funeral in my brain…

Oh no, Emily, I didn’t mean to plagiarize you…

I need a break from writing, from trying to say something about something that doesn’t exist, that I don’t believe in. 

Maybe some music will help. 

*****

This is not the time to remind the student feeling anxious about her potential for literary creativity that hope sings and maybe that was leading her to listen to music. She would only see it as proof of her lack of originality. 

“Stand By Me,” by Ben E. King, rolls from the speaker on the student’s laptop. She’d been looking for the John Lennon version, from the mid-seventies. She often listened to the Beatles when she wanted something singable, with a lot of nostalgia. This time she clicked on the original, which was from 1961, and recalled having heard it before. A lot of musicians had covered the song. It was a true classic. One to hear over and over.

Thinking about those two versions and the many covers, she saw Playing for Change on the list for “Stand By Me.” It was first listed as having been posted fifteen years ago. She decided to listen for just a minute or two, out of curiosity. Maybe they were as good as Lennon? https://youtu.be/Us-TVg40ExM?si=YQUZQ4ulDvWekPlS. She found herself including the link in her notes, in case she needed it later. It wasn’t yet obvious to her why she did it.

The fifteen year old video has people singing and playing “Stand By Me” in a number of countries and styles. They all had headsets or microphones so they could perform simultaneously. Readers should have accessed the student’s link (see above), if they’re really interested in seeing the transoceanic images, all the musicians in synchronized performance, all enveloped by the music.

The young woman was enthralled in way that surprised her. She watched the video several times, completely forgetting her frustrating, unpleasant assignment, and let her gaze move from one performer to a group, back to a single person in a completely different setting. 

There was another YouTube listing for Playing for Change, this one nine years old. The woman had to listen, thinking it was going to be a lesser version, a copy of the original. She ended up inserting this link as well in her notes: https://youtu.be/7hF-P1RJyhk?si=jbwZIKMAVctdhdxe. Good readers will know they need to listen for themselves if they are to really understand what she saw, then felt.

Many of those who had performed remotely were gathered on the same stage, in Brazil. There were new participants and a new language included: Fica comigo, fica comigo, one singer started singing and the audience accompanied him. The blind street singer from the US was front and center, her voice strong even though his sight and mobility weren’t good.

There was a real temptation to watch the film “Stand By Me” from 1986, but she was able to resist it. It took its title from the song, but its content was tangential.

Nevertheless, by now the woman had almost completely forgotten her writing assignment and wanted to listen to a song once shown her by a librarian at the university. It deserved repeated listening and she allowed herself several turns through the song “Aguas de março” by Tom Jobim. Brazilian. Maybe she’d thought of the song because of “Stand By Me” being performed in Brazil? Something was happening.

“Águas de março” is about torrential rain, but as part of a cycle. It blurs the vision but is necessary for life to continue. Jobim sings it superbly with Elis Regina of tragic end:

https://youtu.be/FI1b9RK10JI?si=bmcCHuI86eTnej_h

Elis sings a solo version that shows she’s very conscious of having an audience. The woman smiled as she watched the singer break down laughing at the end.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wBEesrdaRog

The song won’t allow its singers to be rigid; it calls to the body and the body responds.

The assignment was still not done, but the woman had to listen to just one more song that had come to her attention as she was looking at YouTube playlists. It was “Lean on me,” by Bill Withers, and was from 1972. (She always needed to document things like year of publication of works, even in creative writing class.) As usual, she noted the link, both for herself and anyone else interested in hearing the song: https://youtu.be/fOZ-MySzAac?si=gsR5VR7L_OybVgD0. She might have been thinking about us, her readers.

*****

I finished! It was not easy, by any means, but I’m done.

She printed out her paper and put it in a folder for class the next day. The title was:

“Music: Our Last Hope for World Peace?”