Photo: Me and an Exalted Elder. I wish she was here. She’s already told us what we should be doing, but I still… wish she was here. I’ve thought about my grandmothers, my grandfathers, and so many voices I can no longer hear. They’ve told us what to do. Oh Lord, how I wish they could be here to tell us again.

I am listening to a book called Bunyan and Henry; or: The Beautiful Destiny by Mark Cecil. I listen to a lot of audiobooks because I spend so much time in the car. I sincerely believe that stories are better told than read, anyway, which makes sense because storytelling was an oral art form long before it was a written one. I’ve got more very relevant thoughts about that, which I’ll save for a later time. I’m telling you about Bunyan and Henry because I think you should listen to it. It’s a fairy tale. It’s a bedtime story. It’s a story that came out last spring, but it’s absolutely written for right now. I haven’t fully finished it because I got detoured by two other books, but I am excited to get back to it and bring it to it’s conclusion. Frankly, I think I let myself be detoured because I don’t want it to end.

So the story is about Paul Bunyan, who is on a mission for is wife. I won’t spoil the mission. I’m not going to give you a lot of details because they all matter. But I will say that Bunyan is on a mission for his wife and he’s been set on that mission for multiple reasons. He’s also been given language for his quest thanks to the stories his mother has told him. Specifically, he’s on a quest to ultimately realize The Beautiful Destiny. The destination(*) of the twisty path. Many other people walk the path. All of them different and glorious and important. Mark is a most excellent storyteller. I’m really excited to talk to him about his book later this year.

What I love about this book, and what has been rattling around in my head all week, is that twice that white character has had to, in moments of extreme importance, say to a character of color: “I think you’re part of my Beautiful Destiny.”

And the reaction is… always a little interesting. At first, you’ll laugh when you hear him say it to someone. As it goes on, the words will start to sink in. Mark will make those words matter to you.

These words matter to me. They’ve been breaking through as I’ve witnessed this week. There are so many words that could have been said this week. So many. Instead, we got what we got, and what we were given was antithetical to what we should expect from a leader of a modern, diverse society. You know this. I know this. Every speech, interview, and internet screed of this week from every corner of our new regime broke with the realities and visions of who we are and who we could become. I rebuke the idea that this is actually who we are. At some point, some people have got to realize that the beautiful destiny of American “greatness” is actually derived from the vulnerability of looking at each other and seeing that we’re equal parts of a beautiful, complicated, extraordinary whole.

Now I know some of y’all found this blog because you read my short story about Black women leaving up out of here. And I wrote it because I was a Black woman who did leave up out of a place that was killing me. I’ll remind you, though, that Dottie doesn’t want to leave. Dottie wants to stay and try. She does until all of her opportunities to do so are taken from her. Mine was a pessimistic short story. Folk who know me well know that’s not actually how my compass generally points.

I’ve told my husband on multiple occasions this week that I want to jump off this (mortal) server and re-roll a new character somewhere else. 22 years ago, I looked at that same dude, the white boy I fell in love with, and told him he should take me on date. I knew then that he was part of my beautiful destiny. 6 years later, we vowed to stick out the windy path together. Here we are now, our eldest child a certified teenager. Our contribution to the Beautiful Destiny called me an “unc” this morning because I sang “low taper fade” at him over oatmeal. Totally worth it.

Even on this Friday after a stupid week, I’m looking around fully committed to holding onto the important spark of seeing through on the promises I’ve been told and the promises I’ve been giving my sons. I refuse to believe that only a few people merit access to goodness, peace, beauty, and opportunity. I refuse, I think, to believe in “greatness.” Especially if “greatness” is somehow tied to being wholly untethered to the reality of being human and in community: the Beautiful Destiny is ours, together. Even today. Especially tomorrow, which we’ll see, someday.

It takes work to dedicate and rededicate, to try and fail and therefore try again. It’s hard to be human with other humans–to look at the same blue sky and see two different colors. We live in a world of irreconcilable differences. We live in a world where those differences can be negotiated, still. The work of it all used to be the point and that work brought about good things for many people. That work remains. It ultimately can’t be stopped. We live in a world full of extraordinary needs. We live in a world of ideas and opportunities. We live in a world where peace is possible. That’s not a naive thought. That’s a commitment to keep fucking trying.

Anyway–Go get the book. You can listen to it on Libro.Fm if you don’t want to further enrich a billionaire today. The link above is to my favorite independent bookstore, which ships everywhere. No matter what, get the book and get it from a place that cares about our collective beautiful destiny.

I believe you are part of my Beautiful Destiny. I say that with sincerity. Take that for what you will. I’m glad that you’re here today. I’m not going to go re-roll on another mortal server. I’m staying here to walk the path with you. I’d be grateful if you stuck it out and walked the path with me. You’re important and I’m glad you’re here. Go tell a good story today. Go hear a good one in return.