Donovan Beck

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I could never find the “best time” that I could think of to share this piece. I don’t think there is a best time, I wrote this a few months ago and came back to it recently. I come back to it again now, a day before a major election here in the US. Much of what has been needed to be said already has been, so I won’t reiterate but I will let this piece be my large statement on the matters that mean the most to me. If you have the ability to vote, do so. If you struggle with the sense of things falling apart, pick up the rubble and build again. #spokenwordpoetry #mentalhealth #storytelling #poetry #election

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I sat this morning, as I think many of us did, and thought “so what now?” And I consistently came back to this quote by Toni Morrison that I come to often in times of immense worry, in 2016, in 2020, in 2023 and again now. “There is no time for despair…we speak, we write, we do language. This is how civilizations heal.” I spent this evening in the embrace and community of @bostonpoetryslam. I spoke with a few friends there and noted how the typically packed basement bar in Cambridge was lighter tonight, no one stopped at the door due to capacity. And it is understandable why, but for those who were there, the need of this space, of its people and the honesty it inhabits, it was clear why they were there. There is much to say, but this poem was my thoughts from this morning, crafted into this and sent to you with love.#spokenwordpoetry #mentalhealth #storytelling #poetry #filmmaking

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Throughout this year, I’ve spent time asking friends, colleagues, and strangers the question, “2024 has been quite the year, huh?” And while I have no real data to tell you for certain, I can say that, for a majority of people, this year was a lot. More than a lot. This year struck me to my core, teaching me more about myself, my hopes, dreams, and the universe than any other. I won’t go so far as to say this was a terrible year—because it wasn’t. I punctuated so much of it with joy, laughter, and tears (both good and bad), folding the memories of a life I would never wish to forget into its some 365 days. I am stepping into a quarter of a century spent on this hurtling rock, and, like every year, I stop and reflect. This year, though, feels more special than most. These are my reflections: a hand-picked collection of lessons from this wave of a year. I thank you deeply for being here with me, for being here with yourself, and for being here with others. P.S. I will make a better announcement soon, but the last slide is something special—a birthday gift to myself and to you. I welcome you to Sunbreak: Notes on Hope, my next book, releasing on March 11, 2025, with the incredible dedication of Andrews McMeel Universal. Sunbreak is my collection of proof that even in the depths of despair, the aftermath of all our worries, fears, and hardships is hope. Capital “H” Hope. Part poetry collection, part guidebook, it’s a series of poems and short essays that see the world not only as consumed by hardship but held together by hope. I can’t wait to share more with you soon. I wanted to create some big, bombastic announcement for it, but this feels more fitting: an early morning spent writing in the same coffee shop where I penned its first pages, and a simple promise to you all—and to myself—on the hardest of days: The sun will break, and we will feel warmth again. 9,132 Days, 300 months, 25 Rotations. Sent with love, Donovan Alexander Beck