Reasons to Live Through the Apocalypse
Today I’m sharing a piece from the poet Nikita Gill called “Reasons to Live Through the Apocalypse” and a prompt inspired by it.
I love how this poem is composed as a list — so freeing and fragmentary and so much like how the mind works.
It’s inspired me to consider all the things, from my recent and distant past, that buoy me. I consider things like a kiss on the forehead from my brother, who I miss so very much, and playtime with our family dog. I consider the feel of the grass underneath my bare feet and the tree’s bark against my palm.
In my last email I shared how the 11th anniversary of my brother’s passing was nearing. The strength of who he was (and still is to me) always makes it feel impossible that another year has come and gone. If you’ve lost someone you love, you might understand that feeling.
In honor of this, I’d like to also share something that a reader wrote to me. With her blessing, I will paraphrase what she said:
Anniversaries are so hard, aren't they? The pain seems to condense and it can feel as if all the progress you have made is lessened. I find that it helps if I focus on my happiest memory and focus on the love and blessings that I have now and had then. If time is a continuum, they exist as surely now as they did then; it is just that they flourish in another part of the garden of our life.
I hope this poem inspires you to consider all those happy memories, the ordinary blessings of your past, all the small joys that you’d like to hold onto and nurture in the garden of your life.
Here’s to all the things we’d like to watch grow more beautiful this year. May we be part of the making of that beauty.
Reasons to Live Through the Apocalypse
by Nikita Gill
Sunrises. People you have still to meet and laugh with. Songs about love, peace, anger, and revolution. Walks in the woods. The smile you exchange with a stranger when you experience beauty accidentally together. Butterflies. Seeing your grandparents again. The moon in all her forms, whether half or full. Dogs. Birthdays and half-birthdays. That feeling of floating in love. Watching birds eat from bird feeders. The waves of happiness that follow the end of sadness. Brown eyes. Watching a boat cross an empty sea. Sunsets. Dipping your feet in the river. Balconies. Cake. The wind in your face when you roll the car window down on an open highway. Falling asleep to the sound of a steady heartbeat. Warm cups of tea on cold days. Hugs. Night skies. Art museums. Books filled with everything you do not yet know. Long conversations. Long-lost friends. Poetry.
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Tell me:
What are your reasons to live through the apocalypse?
Tell me in the comments. Everything you share here helps more than you know.
With love,
Jen
Comments on this post (8)
Experiencing my husband’s glee when he shares his book finds with me. Morning quiet and a hot cuppa. Breathing to the heart beat. Aromas of baked goods. Hugs from human, animal friend and pillows. Learning. Birthday cake. A new tip. The vibration after meditation. Tuning. A new tune. Feet on wooden floors. A new day. Play. Finishing a class.
— Chari McHale
Blessings already on their way.
— Alice
My reason for making it through the apocalypse are, a fresh brewed coffee in the morning, feeling my wife turn and lay on my chest during the night. A refreshing ocean breeze on a warm summer’s day. A phone call containing good news from a member of the family. The sound of laughter from children playing.
— John Robson
Hollie, ThankYOU for your stunning Depiction of our lives in this loopy-world.
— LisAnne Marie Becotte
I have lived, through a personal apocalypse, SO I have NO fear of the apocalypse!!!
PLUS, who want to be here after; ALL will be lost {will MotherEarth survive?}
— LisAnne Marie Becotte
IT skills grown through and because of Covid, sharing my passions with others, a new bloom in my garden, picking asparagus on a rainy morning, my Grandchildren running to the door on my arrival, waking to the bird calls, the smell after rain, a warm deep bath, my view and the space around me. sitting in my swing chair because I can, watching the early morning Wallaby nibble the new grass.
Blessings to you all Bronwyn
— Bronwyn
Distant angels.
— Jim
Sun rises. Sun sets. Earl Grey tea. My sister holding my hand. Birds singing. Losing myself in a book. Smiles from strangers. Children laughing. The smell in the air after it rains. Peonies. Family. Strawberries in summer. Sun on my skin. Stars. Creme brûlée. Old friends and new friends. The ocean. Exercise. Laughing. Singing in the car. Music. Kisses on the forehead. But most of all, knowing that I’m yet to stumble upon more beautiful reasons to live through the apocalypse.
H x
— Hollie