Out of Infinite Yearnings Rise Finite Deeds

As this is our first issue of 2025, I want to take a moment to wish you all the best in the year ahead. If your life is anything like mine, January tends to feel like being shot out of a cannon into the net of a demanding and impatient schedule. I hope February has brought you a soft landing with a glimpse of spring ahead.

The theme of this issue is lawyers as caregivers. Those most frequently trying to strike this balance are, of course, parents, whose career pressures are second only to the immense pressure of raising good humans. I hope the articles on parenting in this issue will provide some solidarity and recognition for the parents out there, who are often valiantly on the clock 24/7 for 18+ years.

I have been in the position of having to navigate advancing my career while also caregiving a number of times — most notably long-distance for a terminally ill parent for many years. When considering how we acknowledge and accommodate caregiving, I think it’s important to take an expansive view of who we give our caregiving time and energy to. For many, the focus is on family members (including step and adopted family), but for others their dedication extends to friends and chosen family. All are valid and essential to us as individuals and communities.

Reflecting on the challenges of balancing caregiving and career reminded me of a short, relatively unknown poem by Rainer Maria Rilke. I first read it as a teenager, immediately committing it to memory, but have returned to it often as an adult: 

Initial

Out of infinite yearnings rise
finite deeds like feeble fountains,
that early and trembling droop.
But those, else hidden within us,
our happy strengths — reveal themselves
in these dancing tears.

This little poem has stuck with me so long because it doesn’t cast the gap between aspiration and action as failure.

As lawyers, we often have extremely high aspirations for our careers, what our justice systems can and should be, and for our society. This is paired with ferociously high standards for our own conduct, both professionally and personally. While these tendencies can be incredibly positive, they also often counteract our ability to be kind to ourselves as we strive for balance between our careers and our other roles in life, such as that of caregiver.

Acting is strength, even — and perhaps especially — when it feels imperfect or feeble or the needed action is to pause to recuperate. Working in pragmatic reality while keeping sight of our dreams and goals is not for the faint of heart.

Which brings me to a final note on caregiving, the imperative of caring for ourselves. It has probably become trite to say that you should put on your own oxygen mask before helping others. Nevertheless, we seem to forget that sage advice at the first sign of trouble. I think lawyers are particularly prone to this due to the aforementioned extremely high standards. But we are human too. Allegedly.

It can be frightening to divert limited resources to care for ourselves when there is so much need in our jobs and among our loved ones. And it can be frightening to make changes to rebalance your life to create space for caregiving alongside your career. Yet, in my experience, it’s worth the effort to do the work needed to face these fears. As Rilke wrote in Letters to a Young Poet:

“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”

It seems inevitable that 2025 is going to be rife with challenges and change. So my wish for us all this year is that we find ways to face our fears and get even better at caring for ourselves and each other, one finite deed at a time.