My life has not been the easiest of journeys, but I have learned from each of my experiences. It was not my choice to be disabled or to have to struggle more than most, but my disability has taught me to be determined and to persevere. I am not an inspiration, nor I am asking for pity. I am asking to live.

No matter how difficult the circumstance, life is beautiful. Even when people are rude or stare, life is beautiful. He is struggling right now, but he is loved, so life is beautiful. Mommy may be in pain sometimes, and life is still beautiful.

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The Marginalian has a free Sunday digest of the week's most mind-broadening and heart-lifting reflections spanning art, science, poetry, philosophy, and other tendrils of our search for truth, beauty, meaning, and creative vitality. Here's an example. Like? Claim yours:

I woke up this morning to discover a tiny birch tree rising amidst my city quasi-garden, having overcome unthinkable odds to float its seed over heaps of concrete and glass, and begin a life in a meager oasis of soil. And I thought, my god*, what a miracle. What magic. What a reminder that life does not await permission to be lived.

For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.

A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. . . . Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.

16 April 1963

My Dear Fellow Clergymen:

While confined here in the Birmingham city jail, I came across your recent statementcallingmy present activities "unwise and untimely." Seldom do I pause to answer criticism of mywork andideas. If I sought to answer all the criticisms that cross my desk, my secretaries wouldhave little timefor anything other than such correspondence in the course of the day, and I would have notime forconstructive work. But since I feel that you are men of genuine good will and that yourcriticisms aresincerely set forth, I want to try to answer your statement in what I hope will be patientandreasonable terms.

I think I should indicate why I am here in Birmingham, since you have been influencedby theview which argues against "outsiders coming in." I have the honor of serving as presidentof theSouthern Christian Leadership Conference, an organization operating in every southernstate, withheadquarters in Atlanta, Georgia. We have some eighty five affiliated organizations acrossthe South,and one of them is the Alabama Christian Movement for Human Rights. Frequently we sharestaff,educational and financial resources with our affiliates. Several months ago the affiliatehere inBirmingham asked us to be on call to engage in a nonviolent direct action program if suchweredeemed necessary. We readily consented, and when the hour came we lived up to our promise.So I,along with several members of my staff, am here because I was invited here. I am herebecause I haveorganizational ties here.

But more basically, I am in Birmingham because injustice is here. Just as the prophetsof theeighth century B.C. left their villages and carried their "thus saith the Lord" far beyondthe boundariesof their home towns, and just as the Apostle Paul left his village of Tarsus and carriedthe gospel ofJesus Christ to the far corners of the Greco Roman world, so am I compelled to carry thegospel offreedom beyond my own home town. Like Paul, I must constantly respond to the Macedoniancall foraid.

Moreover, I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and states. Icannot sit idlyby in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere isa threatto justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in asingle garmentof destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. Never again can weafford to live withthe narrow, provincial "outside agitator" idea. Anyone who lives inside the United Statescan never beconsidered an outsider anywhere within its bounds.

You deplore the demonstrations taking place in Birmingham. But your statement, I amsorry tosay, fails to express a similar concern for the conditions that brought about thedemonstrations. I amsure that none of you would want to rest content with the superficial kind of socialanalysis that dealsmerely with effects and does not grapple with underlying causes. It is unfortunate thatdemonstrations are taking place in Birmingham, but it is even more unfortunate that thecity's whitepower structure left the Negro community with no alternative.

In any nonviolent campaign there are four basic steps: collection of the facts todeterminewhether injustices exist; negotiation; self purification; and direct action. We have gonethrough allthese steps in Birmingham. There can be no gainsaying the fact that racial injusticeengulfs thiscommunity. Birmingham is probably the most thoroughly segregated city in the UnitedStates. Its uglyrecord of brutality is widely known. Negroes have experienced grossly unjust treatment inthe courts.There have been more unsolved bombings of Negro homes and churches in Birmingham than inanyother city in the nation. These are the hard, brutal facts of the case. On the basis ofthese conditions,Negro leaders sought to negotiate with the city fathers. But the latter consistentlyrefused to engagein good faith negotiation.

Then, last September, came the opportunity to talk with leaders of Birmingham'seconomiccommunity. In the course of the negotiations, certain promises were made by themerchants--forexample, to remove the stores' humiliating racial signs. On the basis of these promises,the ReverendFred Shuttlesworth and the leaders of the Alabama Christian Movement for Human Rightsagreed to amoratorium on all demonstrations. As the weeks and months went by, we realized that wewere thevictims of a broken promise. A few signs, briefly removed, returned; the others remained.As in so many past experiences, our hopes had been blasted, and the shadow of deepdisappointment settled upon us. We had no alternative except to prepare for direct action,wherebywe would present our very bodies as a means of laying our case before the conscience ofthe local andthe national community. Mindful of the difficulties involved, we decided to undertake aprocess of selfpurification. We began a series of workshops on nonviolence, and we repeatedly askedourselves: "Areyou able to accept blows without retaliating?" "Are you able to endure the ordeal ofjail?" We decidedto schedule our direct action program for the Easter season, realizing that except forChristmas, this isthe main shopping period of the year. Knowing that a strong economic-withdrawal programwould bethe by product of direct action, we felt that this would be the best time to bringpressure to bear onthe merchants for the needed change.

Then it occurred to us that Birmingham's mayoral election was coming up in March, andwespeedily decided to postpone action until after election day. When we discovered that theCommissioner of Public Safety, Eugene "Bull" Connor, had piled up enough votes to be inthe run off,we decided again to postpone action until the day after the run off so that thedemonstrations couldnot be used to cloud the issues. Like many others, we waited to see Mr. Connor defeated,and to thisend we endured postponement after postponement. Having aided in this community need, wefeltthat our direct action program could be delayed no longer. 152ee80cbc

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