Today is the Punjabi celebration of the solar New Year, a day correlated with the Spring Harvest, a time of new birth and rebirth. I had planned to spend the day gardening in celebration, but the monsoon that has consumed the Pacific Northwest rages into it’s 147th day, so we’re going to a Mariners game instead.
But what better way to celebrate the optimistic spirit of the New Year than with a baseball game? Especially when the home team, who hasn’t been to the playoffs in nearly a generation, is on a four game winning streak. Maybe they’ll win! Maybe they will keep winning! Every year, we entertain the hypothetical premise that the Mariners will keep winning. We have been disappointed over and over again, and still, we’re willing to believe it is possible.
Louis CK once opined that to be an optimist is to be an idiot. “Maybe something nice will happen!” he mocked them as proclaiming, “Why? Would something nice ever happen?” he challenged them. But Louis CK has been banished, for other reasons, and the indomitable spirit of optimism, that definitive characteristic of the adventurous and bold, marches on. And indeed, on occasion, nice things do happen.
I planted seeds in the ground the day before our last snow this year. Weeks crawled past with no sign of a seedling anywhere, but I waited. I did not plow the ground and try again. I did not, sensibly, begin the seeds indoors and then plant the starts later on. No, I just did nothing, believing the seeds would bear life if they just had more time.
Carrots! Basil! Radishes! They live!