Hope for the Future
Hunter Biden’s splendid blog is filled with hope, redemption, and even some birds.
(Listen to the radio version here.)
Scientists keep learning more and more about birds. New studies are showing that more female birds sing than scientists used to think, that birds are much more intelligent than they used to believe, and that birds are increasingly endangered by climate change, virulent diseases, the horrifying decline in flying insects, and other threats. It’s hard for me to keep up with current research, leaving me very little time for anything that doesn’t relate to birds. But I have a few diversions that aren’t at all bird-focused, and one recent discovery that I treasure is Hunter Biden’s blog.
But oops—I can’t say Biden’s work is entirely unrelated to birds. He’s as wonderful an artist as he is a writer, and two weeks ago he added to the end of one of his Substack posts the image of an acrylic painting he did in 2023. I wish I could show it here but it’s of course copyrighted. The painting is titled “Hummingbird of the South.” (That title links directly to the image.) All his artwork is colorful, fanciful, and intricate; the three exquisite hummingbirds in this painting conjure all the loveliness of the hummingbirds I saw in Ecuador in December with a cool Sendakian whimsy. I particularly loved his depiction of the iconic Sword-billed Hummingbird because it seems so true.
I don’t know that I’d have written a whole post about the painting, but last week Biden wrote a post, “What Was Still Alive,” that took my breath away even more than his painting did. Writing about his recovery from addiction, he wrote that he
had begun to believe, cautiously, that a future might exist that was not defined entirely by the past. Not a clean future. That was never possible. But a livable one.
Reading this flooded my mind with thoughts about my own recovery processes. In 2015, I had my first heart attack, which staged an encore in 2020. In 2017, I had a bout with breast cancer, and had a bilateral mastectomy in 2023. I recovered from both, but was left with all kinds of doubts about my future.
I’ve been increasingly reluctant to sign up for birding adventures scheduled more than a few months in the future, my mind crowded with what-ifs. My age certainly figures into this, being half a decade older than that biblical “three score and ten.” Russ’s mom made it to 90 with her body and mind intact, but none of my grandparents or parents made it out of their 70s alive, my little sister died at 53, and my older brother at 66. Heart attacks and cancer are part of my family legacy; longevity is not. But then again, neither is birding. Our families may shape us genetically and environmentally, and bestow upon us both gifts and limitations, but they do not define us.
And right this very minute, I’m doing fine. I have to work a lot harder to stay fit than I did when I was younger, and have to keep reminding myself to drink water knowing how critical hydration is for mental clarity and good health as we get older. I try my best to stay mindful about this every single day, but expecting my brain and body to endure week to week or month to month, much less season to season or year to year, seemed tenuous. I only went on that trip to Ecuador because there was a last minute cancellation.
Hunter Biden has endured much, much more loss in his life than I have, and his journey to sobriety has included mountains of roadblocks I cannot begin to fathom. So the fact that he can keep on keeping on makes me think maybe I can too; his words give me hope. He wrote:
You begin to think in seasons again. Next year becomes imaginable. So does the year after that. Not as a guarantee. As a possibility. That possibility is fragile, but it is real. And once you feel it, you protect it carefully.
And on that hope, I’ve signed us up for a trip to the Galápagos next August (more than a year away!) and started dreaming again about places Russ and I would both love to visit. Australia? New Zealand? Of course we’d get trip insurance, but we’ve been purchasing that for just about all my trips in recent years. As Biden said, there are no guarantees. Possibilities are enough.
I just started a “Buy me a coffee” thing for people who want to support my work but don’t want a paid Substack subscription. I am committed to providing all my content for free to anyone who wants to read it, but every bit of support does help me keep working. I have to pay for my website host, my Flickr Pro account, the Adobe software subscriptions that allow me to edit my photos and podcast, the Microsoft Office software that I use for writing and presentations, my Zoom account, recording and photography equipment… It adds up. You can give a one-time tip for as little as $1 if you click on the button. Thank you so much!
Your writing puts a spotlight on birds as well as art and the human condition. Very grateful for your work.
Thank you for your beautiful writing and for the reference to Hunter Biden’s Substack!