Emily Dickinson, "The power to be true to You" (464)

"How Much Discomfort Is the Whole World Worth?"

I have some thoughts on a snarky poem by Dickinson below, but first I'd like to introduce this essay by Kelly Hayes & Mariame Kaba, "How Much Discomfort Is the Whole World Worth?" As we figure out what we're going to do to uplift others and build stronger communities, it's worth hearing from actual organizers about the questions they ask themselves in order to make a difference. There's so much in this essay to revisit, and I'm glad I did recently, because there's a passage about the experience of Ruth Gilmore that I have to have seared into my brain. Hayes and Kaba talk about how the central question isn't about what you're willing to be arrested for, but how committed you are to listening to others. How much do you want to hear the most pointless, aggravating stories from people who are aiming for the same goals as you? That's the level of patience one needs. Can you find what motivates them, what they're scared of, what will encourage them, what about their experience you didn't think was possible? You listen without interruption, ask questions, and get answers in order to empower. It almost goes without saying that there is very little genuine listening by those who have power.

Emily Dickinson, "The power to be true to You"

Dickinson does not inch toward the cosmic. In "The power to be true to You," she's crushing on someone, acutely aware that the last person she fantasized about is being displaced: "The power to be true to You, / Until upon my face / The Judgment push his Picture – / Presumptuous of Your Place." The solemnity of her language ("Judgment," "Presumptuous") not only adds to the comedy of what is actually happening. E.g. she saw someone hot, her jaw dropped, and as a result someone else is forgotten. It also opens the question of whether religion tries to control lust because they involve the same emotions. Can someone make an idol of another which blots out everything else? This happens more often than we want to imagine.

The power to be true to You (464)
Emily Dickinson
  
The power to be true to You,
Until upon my face
The Judgment push his Picture —
Presumptuous of Your Place —

Of This — Could Man deprive Me —
Himself — the Heaven excel —
Whose invitation — Yours reduced
Until it showed too small —

It helps, before talking about religion, to fully document Dickinson eviscerating herself. To be sure, she destroys her former crush completely. "Your Place," we see, can be deprived by "Man," someone whom "the Heaven excel." Another mere human gave a hint of an invitation, and this caused yours to reduce "[u]ntil it showed too small." I believe the word for this in the 19th century is "Ouch."

All the same, those of us reading this poem have been on both sides of this scenario at various points in our lives. People dreamed about us and then stopped. Maybe we neglected them, maybe their thoughts were delusional, maybe they had no idea what they even wanted. There was a dialogue with an imaginary us that involved love and power. And we did the same. Dreamed about others and then moved on. The funny thing is that this pretty much happens entirely in our heads. Who knows who "The power to be true to You" is addressed to? Even if Dickinson gave this to someone personally, the phrasing of the whole poem looks destined to elicit a "Huh?"

So Dickinson's diss track can become a question about ourselves. What does it mean that we are faithless with regard to our desires? Sure, we can call the object of our unrequited love a loser, but what does that say about us? Maybe that's where the religious talk comes in. "The power to be true to You" is negated by "Judgment;" "Heaven" ultimately negates all other invitations. Whatever faith is, it entails constancy and betterment. Constancy means continual respect for the invitation; betterment means immediate recognition of a superior being. These two concepts are in opposition–faith does not seem a terribly coherent or useful notion–yet the poem begins "The power to be true to You." We don't just crush on people to rant about our ex being a loser. We want to know we can see through desire.

We're left with a puzzle about faith itself. Maybe we believe because we want the highest, the best. That is certainly what faith promises, even if all we want is to grow a little bit more ourselves. But we also believe because we want to know we can be present in tough situations that don't resolve well. In a weird way, it is clarifying to have crushes who didn't work out. They were replacement level and undeserving of our attention; they did not seriously test our faith. The ultimate suggestion is that the highest things may not adhere to the logic we use for love or religion. Perhaps there is another form of devotion we have failed to consider altogether.