For the Hope of It All

The one about believing anything could happen.

Spotted in New Orleans.

I read something yesterday that referred to hope as a practice. Like a yoga practice, or a meditation practice, or a sport, I suppose. Something you have to work at.

It said you can feel sad, and you can grieve, and you can be angry or confused or all of the above, but still — you can have hope, because hope is not an emotion, nor a mindset. It’s active. In other words, having hope means that there can be losses in your life and you can feel them, wholly, while at the same time looking around and whispering to yourself that things can still become brighter. You can want something better to be around the corner.

I’ve found myself sitting with that — with the notion of hope being something that you do, or that you work on, and I’ve found myself nodding in agreement. I think hope is very much like a habit or a muscle that needs to constantly be flexed in order for it to stay strong, or to remain something you can rely on in difficult times.

Hope is buoyant, or rather, it keeps us afloat. This is now making me think of that movie — “Hope Floats” — which I never saw, but maybe it was about this?? (Probably not.) Either way, they were on to something with that title.

I think sometimes hope is marketed as something foolish. A throw-away desire that doesn’t actually achieve anything, or that’s a waste of your time. I’ve never understood that perspective. If you don’t have hope, what do you have? We live in an imperfect world with imperfect people (ourselves included), and challenges will always abound; that’s really the only guarantee. I’m not sure what good it does to never believe things can change for you, or to pretend you can’t want for something different to be true. Hope doesn’t seem foolish to me at all. Instead, it feels… kind.

I’ve mentioned this briefly before here, but I was born with a chronic illness, one that is forever a part of me and would require a pretty nifty miracle to not remain with me for the rest of my life. (You can read a bit more about it in a lot of spots on the internet if you’re interested, including here.) Being a kid (or, frankly, an adult) with a chronic illness can be extremely scary and lonely in a way I don’t think many other general life experiences can rival. One of the greatest gifts my parents gave me when I was growing up was cultivating an extraordinary, steadfast belief in hope. Without it, I can only imagine how grim and gloomy life would have felt. Would still feel. Maintaining an active hope practice taught me at a very early age that it’s alright to accept your current circumstances and maybe even feel blessed in many ways, but still look for a window of possibility where your life may change for the best. That just because an outlook is bleak or you know not-so-good statistics, you have a chance to rise above. Hope gave me an opportunity to move beyond medical chart labels and pre-existing expectations or stigmas, and open other doors. To consider another way of life.

I know that’s an extremely specific and personal example, and maybe that doesn’t neatly translate to your life, but my point is that hope gives us a chance to swim in the possibility of something more. I’ve known a lot of people who lean heavily into negativity and assuming the worst, whose hope muscle seems to be broken and who excuses that sort of mindset away with a shrug: “I’m just being realistic.” And maybe they are, and maybe that’s self-protective in a way, but I think it also makes for a harder life than necessary. The hope of something greater is what makes the ebbs of life — the setbacks, the lost loved ones, the heartbreak — bearable.

With Election Day earlier this week and emotions running high — some people feeling good about how things have shaken out, some feeling like their neighbors let them down, some angry that more people don’t care about the issues that seem so obviously important in their own hearts — hope is an extra good thing to focus on right now.

Hope is saying things can change. That yes, they may actually work out. It’s saying all is not lost, that there’s more on the horizon for you that is possible. It’s mustering the confidence and the courage to want something more, as impossible as it might seem in the moment. It’s saying we want something more than we fear it.

Hope is the dream of something else.

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I wrote this with “Midnights” blaring beside me, trying to drown out the hockey game my husband was watching in the other room. ❤️‍🔥 ((Sorry for all of you who are sick of my Taylor Swift references but honestly… this album is excellent and I can’t stop listening. Here’s my current fav.)) On a completely unrelated note — but on my mind because I just returned from a trip — I have a very random recommendation for you: this toiletries/makeup bag from CalPak; I just used it for the first time and it was perfect. (Previously, I traveled with three different tiny bags for toiletries…not the most efficient.)

I hope you all have a lovely weekend, and you know I want to hear from you — leave a comment here or send me a note. For any veterans reading as we come up on Veterans Day tomorrow, thank you for your service and sacrifice.

Thanks for reading,

Joelle

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