A Portable Paradise
And if I speak of Paradise,
then I’m speaking of my grandmother
who told me to carry it always
on my person, concealed, so
no one else would know but me.
That way they can’t steal it, she’d say.
And if life puts you under pressure,
trace its ridges in your pocket,
smell its piney scent on your handkerchief,
hum its anthem under your breath.
And if your stresses are sustained and daily,
get yourself to an empty room—be it hotel,
hostel or hovel—find a lamp
and empty your paradise onto a desk:
your white sands, green hills and fresh fish.
Shine the lamp on it like the fresh hope
of morning, and keep staring at it till you sleep.
--Roger Robinson
My son’s best childhood friend, Miles Talcott Borchard ’15, wore a blue fleece jacket every day for three years straight. In fact, he rarely took it off, and my children began to refer to his jacket in the first person, asking “How’s blue jacket today?”
One day Miles shared the contents of his pockets, emptying them out on a kitchen table to show my youngest children. A ball of string, a Slim Jim, a rock, seaglass, and a compass were a few of the items he pulled out. While I can’t say for sure, I think these items of comfort, along with his blue jacket, sustained him during the tumultuous years of middle school.
Similarly, Robert Robinson’s words in the poem “Portable Paradise” remind us of the importance of emptying our own pockets to reveal the values and meaning that sustain us through times of difficulty and uncertainty. By “empty[ing our] paradise onto a desk,” and “shin[ing] the lamp on it like the fresh hope of morning,” we stay grounded in the particulars of our experience, finding sustenance in the simple pleasures and daily beauty in life.
In the words of John Updike, in this way, we “give the mundane its beautiful due.” In doing so, we cultivate hope so that we can transcend the bitterness, disappointment, drudgery that are, unfortunately, among the inevitable burdens of life. By doing so, we can affirm the beauty and dignity of all God’s creatures.
Let us, therefore, tend to our own fears, fatigue, and despair through the practice of gratitude, meditation, and prayer, visualizing the hope that sustains us in our toughest hours, so that we approach each day with a renewed sense of empathy and work to create a “portable paradise” for all.
--The Rev. Katie Solter
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