PRACTICE RESURRECTION
Hope is a discipline, not a feeling. You don’t wait for resurrection. You practice it. Daily. In small, deliberate acts.
As the poet Wendell Berry writes:
• Every day do something that won’t compute.
• Love someone who does not deserve it.
• Denounce the government and embrace the flag.
• Be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary, some in the wrong direction.
• Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
• Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.
The practice of resurrection isn’t about coming back exactly as you were before. It’s about what grows anew from the composted version of yourself, your work, your connectedness with others.
It’s the salmon returning to an uncorked Klamath river. It’s the intentional pause that lets something new take root. It’s planting trees you’ll never see fully grown, for people you’ll never meet. Flowing with the cycles, and participating in the larger narrative.
The fox makes unnecessary tracks. Some in the wrong direction. That’s not failure—that’s exploration, play, the kind of movement that keeps you alive and adaptable when the landscape shifts.
It’s the opposite of efficient. And that’s exactly what we need more of right now: the willingness to wander, to be generous with our time and attention, to do things that serve no immediate purpose except to remind us we’re still human, still capable of choosing joy.
Practice resurrection.
It’s the long game.
And the only game that actually matters.