This article is continued from
page 6 of this insert, “We put a lit-
tle desk on the Diag. Here’s what
we found”.
Prompt #5. I see a glimpse of it
every day
Something about the little
desk seems to bring out what
people are really feeling. An ear
to listen. The words come ear-
nest, open and big-hearted when
there’s no one watching.
Gathered together in the liter-
ary space of the page, people share
their responses to the prompt:
“I see a glimpse of a smile
and a future and a feeling I al-
ways strive for but haven’t quite
arrived.”
“I see a glimpse of it every
day. It’s a small spark barely
bright enough but it’s enough.
“I see glimpses of futures that
are or could be or will not and you
are somehow part of them all.”
Prompt #6. how I’ve grown and
changed
Some passersby wrote about
the view from the desk — flow-
ers, strangers sitting — and oth-
ers wrote about the people they
love. “I wish that I could tear my
ribcage open so that our hearts
could touch,” reads one.
“I have grown to be so much
happier,” said another, beside
them, inside a drawing of an owl.
Prompt #7. I see it differently
now
While setting up the desk,
we’d include some cozy decora-
tions, like an itty-bitty ceramic
brown bear (until it disappeared)
and a small green candle (until it
fell off the table and broke).
“Sorry about the candle!” reads
one entry, above a sketch of a small
tombstone. “R.I.P. 2023-2023.”
And above that: “you are a
ray of sunshine.”
For this prompt, a page
filled with illustrations of giddy
animals and a happy person in a
hat, presumably written by a very
young person, in the handwrit-
ing of someone learning how to
write — who would like to be a
park ranger.
Prompt #8. something worth
being brave for
Other times, a person will fill
up a whole page with the energy
of their words, inspiring others
toward bravery:
“Love is worth being brave
for,” or “YOU are worth being
brave for!! Take the risk if it will
do good! Sending love ur way!”
And on separate pages, more
encouragement appears:
“It’s worth being brave for
yourself and your dreams. Stay
true and try your hardest.”
Or someone’s proudest mo-
ments:
“Call it bravery when I ask
you to stay,” a writer begins.
“Call it bravery when, at the end
of the night, I let you put your
arms around me, and we go to
sleep together, and in the morn-
ing we open the blinds and let
the light come in. This, itself, is
a heroic feat.”
Prompt #9. which can only ex-
ist in this moment
For this prompt, the journal
and its contents, were an answer
in itself. Every entry, written in
response to another, was some-
thing that could only exist then
— in its own way.
In this moment: overflowing
love.
“Things never really belong
to us BUT that’s okay. I loved get-
ting to hold that piece of time.”
“I’ve seen you around,” came
a response. “I love admiring you.”
“The strongest trees still
sway,” another said.
“Sometimes,
you’re
tired
and hungry and sad,” someone
chimed in. “Then you see your
friend’s face at the door. Find
your people. They make life
brighter.”
Prompt #10. which I hope to
witness again
We learned a lot from the
little desk. Managing the journals
and providing this space showed
how caring — and deserving of
care — everyone and everything
is. Here I am, the journal seems
to say. Here we are. You are
loved. I love you.
For an ending note, we’ll let
the words speak for themselves: “I
hope to witness a world where we
are one, where love can flourish
and the earth can heal. Although
unfortunately I can’t say that I’d
witness this again … I believe that
I’ve seen glimpses of it in the smiles
and actions of many around me. It
is a beautiful thing.”
6 — The Statement // Wednesday, April 12, 2023
Photos courtesy of Canopy Magazine