My heart will go on

So, this past week marked the ending of an era, and I feel foolish that I let it slip by without proper acknowledgment. But better late than never. After 5 long years, Celine Dion took her bows in Las Vegas as her show A New Day ended its run at The Colosseum at Caesar's Palace.
Now some may find this incredibly odd (with the exception of my friend, Julia), but I have a surprising appreciation for Celine Dion. Yes, she's got some quirk in her, she's married to a geriatric, and has absolutely no idea how to dress herself properly for the red carpet, but the woman's got pipes. There's just no arguing that.
Anyway, somewhere along the line I promised myself that I'd make it to Vegas to see her show, but apparently I lost track of time, so I never made it. However, rumor has it that she's coming to Seattle next year, and I can guarantee that I'm taking myself (and dragging SJY) down to the Key Arena so I can weep in person as she sings It's All Comin' Back to me Now at the top of her lungs (and you KNOW she will).
So, peace out, Celine. See ya next year.

Crumbs

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers by Emily Dickinson.

I've read through this poem quite a bit lately. I agree with Dickinson that hope is penetrating and insistent; we feel its presence even when we cannot find words to express it. Yet I find that I struggle with the last two lines of the poem. Dickinson seems to imply that hope simply "is" without asking anything of or from us in return. I disagree. Vehemently. I think that hope asks much of us. In fact, maintaining a posture of anticipation, of longing, of the not-yet often requires all that I am.

One of our administrators uses honey bees to illustrate this notion. I'll attempt to paraphrase- While the majority of the honey bees in a hive are maintaining the food supply or are droning about, roughly 5-10% of the honey bees are scout bees that forge ahead to explore new food sources and potential hive locations. When the food supply runs low or another queen takes over, the bees have a greater chance at survival because these scouts have already laid plans to relocate. The entire future of the hive depends on their dedication. However, the job of a scout bee is very dangerous as they are exposed to the elements of nature; many die as they search. Scout bees live in a way that continually hopes for something different and new. While their labor allows the hive to survive and bear fruit, the work of these brave bees is dangerous and asks much of them.

All that to say, I think hope asks more of us than we like to think. It's not merely a tune we hear in the background of our lives. It is, rather, the thing deep down inside all of us that begs us to live in the midst of longing, anticipation, and desire for something new. While hope is the thing that sustains life, it requires that we not only give crumbs, but that we give of ourselves. And that is asking a lot.