Silent Triumphs

“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.”

Albert Camus (1913-1960; French philosopher, author, and journalist known for his existentialist philosophy and literary contributions; winner of the 1957 Nobel Prize in Literature for his significant literary achievements, which continue to influence existentialist thought.)

One of my greatest joys is watching people succeed against all odds. I write a lot about those triumphs, most recently in my “Let Your Light Shine Bright.” It seemed fitting that I do so since it was December, a month chockfull of celebrations, each carrying a unique message of hope, transcending boundaries, and unifying us in a shared spirit of optimism and celebration.

Most of the people who populated that post–ranging from Susan Boyle to Barack Obama–are out there in the public eye as performers or politicians. Others are out there as motivational speakers. I’m thinking especially of Nick Vujicic, a charismatic and dynamic speaker who captivates audiences with his powerful presence and inspiring message. Born without arms and legs, Nick exudes confidence, warmth, and authenticity as he shares his personal journey of overcoming adversity and finding purpose and joy in life.

His message is one of resilience, faith, and the limitless potential of the human spirit. He encourages listeners to embrace their own uniqueness, overcome obstacles with courage and determination, and live a life of purpose and meaning. Through his words and example, Nick inspires others to believe in themselves, pursue their dreams, and make a positive impact on the world.

While Nick’s triumphs are anything but silent, witnessing his resilience and ability to overcome immense challenges prompted me to think about the unnoticed private triumphs that people experience.

As you might expect from an English professor, I started thinking about the people from my literary world. One by one, characters tiptoed past, whispering their silent triumphs.

Hester Prynne from Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter reminded me that her silent triumph came in her resilience and strength in the face of public shaming and ostracism. Branded with the scarlet letter “A” for adultery, she quietly bore her punishment and found redemption through her unwavering love for her daughter, Pearl.

And what about Janie Crawford in Zora Neale Hurston’s novel Their Eyes Were Watching God? She underwent a journey of self-discovery and empowerment, ultimately finding her own voice and identity despite societal expectations and pressures. Her silent triumph came from her ability to assert her independence and pursue happiness on her own terms, even in the face of adversity and criticism.

Next Nora Helmer marched dramatically onto the stage of Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House. Her silent triumph prevailed at the end of the play when she chose to leave her husband and children in order to seek personal freedom and self-realization despite the societal expectations and conventions of the time.

A more ambiguous and bittersweet silent triumph can be seen in Tom Wingfield from Tennessee Williams’ play The Glass Menagerie. He ultimately chose to leave his overbearing mother and disabled sister in search of his own dreams and aspirations, despite the guilt and responsibility he felt towards them. While his departure may seem selfish, it represented his quest for personal fulfillment and freedom from the constraints of his family’s expectations.

People in short stories have their silent triumphs, too. Consider Sammy in John Updike’s “A&P” who experienced a silent triumph when he quit his job at the supermarket in defiance of his boss’s mistreatment of a group of girls who entered the store wearing bathing suits. The potential consequences of his actions did not keep him from asserting his independence and standing up for what he believed was right.

In James Thurber’s “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty,” the protagonist, Walter Mitty, experienced silent triumphs throughout the story as he escaped into vivid daydreams to cope with his mundane existence. He found solace and fulfillment in his imaginative fantasies, where he became a hero, a pilot, a surgeon, and more. These silent triumphs allowed him to momentarily transcend his ordinary life and find excitement and adventure within his own mind.

Obviously, silent triumphs can be poetic, too. “Home Burial” by Robert Frost is a perfect example of a silent triumph. In this poignant dialogue, a husband and wife mourn their child’s loss differently. While the wife openly expressed her anguish, the husband silently strove to bridge the emotional gap between them, offering solace despite their differing ways of grieving. This silent triumph highlights the power of emotional connection amidst grief.

In Langston Hughes’ “Mother to Son,” the speaker’s resilience in facing life’s challenges is portrayed through the metaphor of a staircase. Despite hardships, she persevered, quietly inspiring her son and readers with her determination to keep climbing. This silent triumph underscored the power of resilience in overcoming adversity.

And, yes, they can triumph on the big screen, too. In The Trip to Bountiful, the victory occurred when the main character, Carrie Watts, finally made her journey back to her childhood home of Bountiful. Despite her age and frailty, Carrie’s determination and resilience shone through as she persisted in her quest to revisit the memories and places of her youth.

In Fried Green Tomatoes, a silent triumph occurred when Evelyn Couch, one of the main characters, underwent a transformation and found her inner strength and confidence. Throughout the film, Evelyn struggled with feelings of invisibility and dissatisfaction with her life. However, her friendship with Ninny Threadgoode and the stories she heard about the lives of the women in Whistle Stop, particularly Idgie and Ruth, inspired her to take control of her own destiny.

But guess what? The journey of silent triumphs extends far, far beyond the pages of literature and the spotlight of public figures. While they serve as poignant examples of silent triumphs, the essence of their victories resonates deeply within each of us. They are not confined to the extraordinary narratives of books or the public eye but are intricately woven into the fabric of our daily lives, waiting to be acknowledged and celebrated.

Conquering fears, whether big or small, such as fear of public speaking, fear of PowerPoint, or fear of rusty observation towers, can be a significant silent triumph. It may involve facing challenges head-on, pushing past comfort zones, and gaining confidence in one’s abilities.

Adopting healthier habits, such as exercising regularly, eating nutritious foods, quitting smoking, or reducing alcohol consumption, can be silent triumphs that contribute to improved well-being and quality of life.

Finding healing and closure from past traumas, heartbreaks, or losses can be a silent triumph. It may involve seeking therapy, practicing self-care, forgiveness, and cultivating resilience in the face of adversity.

Accomplishing personal goals, whether professional, academic, or creative, can be silent triumphs that signify hard work, perseverance, and dedication. It may involve setting SMART (Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic, Time-bound) goals and taking consistent steps towards achieving them.

Speaking out against injustice, discrimination, or oppression, even in small ways like blogs, can be a silent triumph that demonstrates courage, integrity, and moral conviction.

Successfully navigating major life transitions, such as starting a new job, moving to a new city, becoming a parent, or retiringinventing, can be silent triumphs that require adaptability, resilience, and resourcefulness.

Finding peace, contentment, and fulfillment within oneself, despite external circumstances, can be a silent triumph that signifies self-awareness, acceptance, and gratitude.

Performing acts of kindness, generosity, or compassion towards others, without expecting recognition or reward, can be silent triumphs that contribute to building connections, fostering empathy, and making a positive difference in the world.

Challenging and overcoming self-limiting beliefs, insecurities, and negative self-talk can be silent triumphs that lead to increased self-confidence, self-esteem, and self-empowerment.

Discovering passion, purpose, or sense of calling in life can be a silent triumph that brings clarity, direction, and fulfillment. It may involve introspection, exploration, and embracing opportunities for growth and self-discovery.

Many of these triumphs often go unnoticed, obscured by the hustle and bustle of our daily lives, concealed within the folds of routine tasks and responsibilities.

Today, I urge you to pay attention to the silent triumphs of those around you, whether it’s a friend, family member, coworker, or stranger. Offer words of encouragement, support, or recognition to acknowledge the quiet victories that may go unnoticed by others but are meaningful, nonetheless. Extend compassion and appreciation to those around you. Foster a culture of empathy and recognition for the silent triumphs that unite us all.

Today, I encourage you to pause and reflect on the silent triumphs that have shaped your life. Embrace them with gratitude and pride, knowing that they are the threads that weave the tapestry of your existence.

Today, let’s join hands as we celebrate these silent triumphs–mine, yours, and others, real and imagined–knowing that as we do, we honor the essence of our humanity and inspire others to do the same.

Today, let’s salute the quiet heroes among us, whose resilience, courage, and determination light the path for us all. May we continue to cherish and champion these moments of victory, weaving them with pride and gratitude into the collective story of our silent triumphs.

Celebrating Our Independence

“Hear: the doors we open
for each other all day, saying: hello / shalom,
buon giorno/ howdy / namaste / or buenos días
in the language my mother taught me—in every language
spoken into one wind carrying our lives
without prejudice, as these words break from my lips.”

Richard Blanco (b. 1968; fifth American poet to read at a United States presidential inauguration. “… the first immigrant, the first Latino, the first openly gay person, and at the time [2013], the youngest person to be the U.S. inaugural poet.”

As we celebrate our Nation’s independence, let us also wrap our arms around and celebrate–today more than ever before–the inclusive oneness of the American spirit, which is at the heart of who we are.

Perhaps no poem captures the spirit of our oneness better than Richard Blanco’s “One Today,” written for Barack Obama’s Second Presidential Inauguration, January 21, 2013.

One Today

By Richard Blanco

One sun rose on us today, kindled over our shores,
peeking over the Smokies, greeting the faces
of the Great Lakes, spreading a simple truth
across the Great Plains, then charging across the Rockies.
One light, waking up rooftops, under each one, a story
told by our silent gestures moving behind windows.

My face, your face, millions of faces in morning’s mirrors,
each one yawning to life, crescendoing into our day:
pencil-yellow school buses, the rhythm of traffic lights,
fruit stands: apples, limes, and oranges arrayed like rainbows
begging our praise. Silver trucks heavy with oil or paper—
bricks or milk, teeming over highways alongside us,
on our way to clean tables, read ledgers, or save lives—
to teach geometry, or ring-up groceries as my mother did
for twenty years, so I could write this poem.

All of us as vital as the one light we move through,
the same light on blackboards with lessons for the day:
equations to solve, history to question, or atoms imagined,
the “I have a dream” we keep dreaming,
or the impossible vocabulary of sorrow that won’t explain
the empty desks of twenty children marked absent
today, and forever. Many prayers, but one light
breathing color into stained glass windows,
life into the faces of bronze statues, warmth
onto the steps of our museums and park benches
as mothers watch children slide into the day.

One ground. Our ground, rooting us to every stalk
of corn, every head of wheat sown by sweat
and hands, hands gleaning coal or planting windmills
in deserts and hilltops that keep us warm, hands
digging trenches, routing pipes and cables, hands
as worn as my father’s cutting sugarcane
so my brother and I could have books and shoes.

The dust of farms and deserts, cities and plains
mingled by one wind—our breath. Breathe. Hear it
through the day’s gorgeous din of honking cabs,
buses launching down avenues, the symphony
of footsteps, guitars, and screeching subways,
the unexpected song bird on your clothes line.

Hear: squeaky playground swings, trains whistling,
or whispers across café tables, Hear: the doors we open
for each other all day, saying: hello / shalom,
buon giorno/ howdy / namaste / or buenos días
in the language my mother taught me—in every language
spoken into one wind carrying our lives
without prejudice, as these words break from my lips.

One sky: since the Appalachians and Sierras claimed
their majesty, and the Mississippi and Colorado worked
their way to the sea. Thank the work of our hands:
weaving steel into bridges, finishing one more report
for the boss on time, stitching another wound
or uniform, the first brush stroke on a portrait,
or the last floor on the Freedom Tower
jutting into a sky that yields to our resilience.

One sky, toward which we sometimes lift our eyes
tired from work: some days guessing at the weather
of our lives, some days giving thanks for a love
that loves you back, sometimes praising a mother
who knew how to give, or forgiving a father
who couldn’t give what you wanted.

We head home: through the gloss of rain or weight
of snow, or the plum blush of dusk, but always—home,
always under one sky, our sky. And always one moon
like a silent drum tapping on every rooftop
and every window, of one country—all of us—
facing the stars
hope—a new constellation
waiting for us to map it,
waiting for us to name it—together


Copyright © 2013 by Richard Blanco.