My first article on CC was about hope. Seeking hope doesn’t really ‘work’ for me. Looking for certainty to hope in only reminds me how uncertain life is.
Letting go of worry does work. Living in the moment helps me do that. I notice the small things which bring happiness. A beautiful day. The vibrant green of new spring growth just beginning to appear. A day with little physical pain. My children or my husband happy with their day. (My childrens’ amazing performances)
All my worries can be dealt with. If they’re about things I can’t control I may as well not worry because I can’t change the outcome anyway. If I can affect the outcome I can act (or make an action plan), then I don’t need to worry anymore.
Looking for future hope takes my mind elsewhere just as worry does. Being here is better. I want to be present so I don’t miss anything small yet significant. Then I will be satisfied, knowing I’m making the most of life.
I will get distracted – but as soon as I realize I can try again. As long as life lasts, there’s hope…ah, it seems that I do believe in hope after all!
Thanks for the awesome link to Ben’s performance! Wow!! There is an incredible amount of beauty around us (including music), and enjoying that beauty becomes part of living in the moment. Thanks for sharing that with us.
Thanks Al. There is so much beauty around us to be noticed!
I really appreciate your use of mindfulness to counteract worry. I also like your celebration of life around you, especially in your family. The piano recital was incredible! Even your use of the fuchsia photo speaks to the concept of enjoying the beauty in life around us.
Your comments got me to thinking: If I understand correctly, you are saying that the opposite of HOPE is WORRY. I might insert contentment in place of hope in that equation. Or, leaving hope in place, I would change worry/anxiety to despair. I look at hope as a reason to live, to continue, a sense of meaning, or maybe even that life at some level makes sense. And I see despair as being the absence of those qualities.
I wonder to what degree one’s definition of hope depends on one’s circumstances. Presumably my definition of hope would be quite different from that of a refugee in Darfur. But we’re all unique individuals, so even amongst thousands of people in outwardly similar circumstances, there could be thousands of different definitions of hope.
I was also thinking about what it would be like to face a future with Crohn’s (I can’t remember for sure if that’s what you face.) I also have an uncertain medical future. My pituitary is dying. Within the next few years I’ll be on a total hormone replacement regimen, complete with side effects. Where does hope come into play there? Do I hope it won’t be all that bad? I don’t think I’m worried about it. I’ve gotten used to the changes and meds so far, not that I enjoy them. Nine meds in the morning and three at night. I guess my focus for hope is disconnected from that. That also makes me wonder to what extent I connect hope with a sense of personal control?
Thanks for sharing more of your story and making me think.
End of rambling.
Thanks Gary. I’m sorry to hear about your medical issues. You remembered right – Crohn’s is what I have.
Contentment as the opposite of worry makes sense to me.
I like your definition of hope as a reason to live, continue, a sense of meaning. That makes sense to me. The definition I can’t use anymore is hope being based on God loves me or something good beyond death, because I’m now uncertain about God and what may/may not happen after death.
How much of your hope in the face of illness is based on believing you’ll be completely healed after death? I’m just curious.
Helen, none of my hope is based on the idea of post-death healing. I’d never even really thought about that.
I was thinking about hope this morning, realizing that I have hope on good days. I reread what I said about where I find hope (that will post on Friday) and saw how much of it is based on a belief in God. Most of it. But as I read the descriptions i also acknowledged that that hope is reliably viable only on “good days”. There is enough doubt about God, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say lack of trust in God, that my hope related to God is fragile or transitory.
All that makes me wonder how resilient my hope really is. What remains of my faith on bad days? Based on my actions it appears that I want to believe, to find hope in God. But then the question I ask myself is, Am I seeking God or trying to sustain a belief in God as a means of coping with life? Am I using God in the very way that Karl Marx derided, as an opiate now that I don’t do drugs? If He’s there, then He will redeem that weakness. If He’s not, well then, that’s another matter entirely.
Thanks for answering my question, Gary.
I think hopeful beliefs help people cope with life but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s inappropriate to have them.
Thanks for the opportunity to ruminate here.