I keep remembering a medieval lit. professor I took a class with last year. We had a rather contemptuous relationship, but she had one glorious moment which consistently mollifies the other interactions I had with her. One day in class, she expounded on the glory of Jimmy Hendrix shouting “Everything’s gonna be all right.” So simple. So powerful. Everything’s gonna be all right. She threw her entire frame into the quotation, a throaty roaring proclamation. You could see that she felt truly touched, truly reassured by his words.
Tomorrow my first semester as a law student ends with one last exam. I will scrape by, or I will leave with the same puke inducing feeling I left with on Monday. But, I made it. And, whatever the outcome, everything’s gonna be all right. For me, for you, for all of us.
My inner core detests the idealistic, sunny haze that casts. My logic argues that everything will not always be OK. Many, many things are ugly, and brutal, and terrifying and definitely not OK. Baby’s cut from their mother’s wombs. Guantanamo Bay. 14 year olds hanging from shoelaces. Burt Reynolds.
But, how can we see the perfect without the terrible? All this? All this is gonna be all right.
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