Everything And Nothing

My first thought upon learning the results of the presidential election was that everything had changed. The outcome of this election will alter the course of our collective future, and will take us down a path different from the one if the outcome had gone the other way.

It was hard to know what to do this morning, but thankfully, as is our ritual every morning, we made our way to the front porch in the predawn darkness. We lit the candle, settled into our chairs, and pulled up the fleece blankets to ward off the chill of the morning and the one seeping into our hearts.

Sitting together in that familiar space, the one we return to morning after morning after morning, I felt a deep and profound sadness and I couldn’t stop crying.

Sitting together in that familiar space, the one we return to morning after morning after morning, I began to feel something else. An equally deep and inexplicable hope, and I couldn’t stop crying.

Sitting together in that familiar space, the one that we return to morning after morning after morning, as the sun hit the mountain it dawned on me that everything has changed, and nothing has changed.

As a result of this election everything has changed. What that will look like, try as I might, I can’t really know from where I sit, here on the porch.

As a result of this election I now have my part to play, which is doing all that I can to love, help, and heal the world within my reach. And in that, nothing has changed.

A New Start To The Day

The news ain’t great these days.

Most mornings as I wait the recommended four minutes before I can press the coffee, I scan my email inbox. Along with the tantalizing smell of freshly ground coffee brewing, my senses are assaulted with the latest New York Times Breaking News Headlines. While there is the very occasional headline that to my heart constitutes good news—the swearing in of Judge Katanji Brown Jackson—most of the time what I read breaks my heart a little more—the past two weeks have almost put me under—and hope is hard to find.

It’s not a great way to start the day.

So, I changed it.

I unsubscribed to The NY Times newsletter.

I subscribed to Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer’s A Hundred Falling Veils: there’s a poem in every day

This morning I was greeted with my first poem from Rosemerry, about, of all things, hope. (You can find her poem, Longing to Be Seen here)

How we start the day matters. Along with coffee and time with my husband and our dog as the sunlight first hits the meadow, I’m choosing to start my day with poetry, and a little hope.

Maybe you will too.

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(Now before you go jumping to any conclusions, it’s not that I don’t want to be informed about the goings on in the world. I am simply choosing not to start my day there. Being part of a well informed citizenry matters to me, and it should matter to you too. Our democracy depends on it. There are good sources of news, as in real information as opposed to opinion and rhetoric out there, and, spoiler alert, they are not found on social media.)

Hopeishness

hope | hōp |

grounds for believing that something good may happen

hope | hōp |

want something to happen or be the case

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There is little certainty in life beyond its eventual ending. Depending on how we look at it, this is either a very comforting thought, or a deeply troubling one. If we are looking for certainty beyond our own eventuality, It will be a long wait.

That’s where hope comes in.

Hope is both a noun and a verb. For it to infuse our lives, hope must not only be something we see, but also something we do.

Hope as a noun invites us to look for the evidence that things will work out. Maybe not in the short term, but in the long run. Since the eye, (and the heart) see what they look for, to have hope requires that we train ourselves to recognize it when we see it, and save it up for those times when it is nowhere in sight.

Hope as a verb bids us dare to imagine something being true. In this way, it is like a muscle with which we work for what we want. Walking toward what we envision, without yoking ourselves to certainty, we are free to collaborate with life and whatever it brings our way.

Hope, as much as we yearn for it, is hard. Sometimes life is such that hope feels impossible. Almost like a waste of our time, when life turns on a dime. What was true yesterday no longer is. What we counted on an hour ago crumbles beneath our feet. What we knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the moment before evaporates in front of our very eyes. Given this precarious nature of life, it is no wonder that we go from hopeful to hopeless in the blink of our eye, with nothing in between. Hope can feel like an either or proposition. Getting it right or getting it wrong. A dualistic way of living with only two choices—we can either be full of hope, or not.

That’s where hopeishness comes in.

Hopeishness sits squarely between hopeful and hopeless.

Always there and never out of our reach.

Hopeishness detaches us from the outcome, loosens the grip of fear, and settles us in the present moment, which is all we’ve ever had anyway. It reminds us of all the evidence we’ve collected along the way, making it possible for us to simply take the next right step without needing to know exactly how it will all turn out.

It may not be a real word, but hopeishness is a real thing.

The Spin

Is there anyone who isn’t ready to be on the other side of the pandemic?

I didn’t think so.

It feels like enough already. Except it isn’t. And probably won’t be for longer than we would hope. Which doesn’t mean that there isn’t reason to be hopeful. There is. But only if we stay the course.

And.

Staying the course is hard.

Let’s not make it any harder than it already is.

Maybe it’s all in the way we choose to spin it.

Rather than see it as always having to be careful, let’s see it as always being full of care for one another.

Rather than see it as having the discipline to always do it right, let’s see it as having the dedication to always do the right thing.

Rather than see it as never being able to gather with our loved ones, let’s focus on doing what it takes so that we can.

Rather than see it as all too hard, let’s see it as the hard work that will get us all through.

Rather than see it as a divisive political issue, let’s see it as a way of uniting us as people.

The quickest way to the other side is to stay the course. Let’s not make that any harder than it already is.

Maybe it’s all in the way we choose to spin it.

Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

Hope As A Practice

Every day we get to choose whether to give

the microphone to hope or fear.

The choice we make is the life we’ll lead.

Bob Goff

Someone recently shared this quote with me, and I couldn’t agree more. The words ring true in my head and my heart and in my experience.

However.

Especially now, there are days when I am in need of the tiniest of victories, and choosing to listen to the voice of hope in the morning is no guarantee that it will stay with me for the day. Fear can ambush me at any moment, and when it does, I have to choose to pry the microphone out of fear’s ferocious grip, and place it firmly back in the hands of hope. And then do it again. Hope is a practice.

Hope isn’t seeing the silver lining in a pit of despair. It is mining for the gold that is found buried deep in the heart of struggle.

Hope isn’t looking at the bright side of dark realities. It is choosing to be a light in dark times.

Hope isn’t passive. As I was reminded by someone recently, it requires something of us. It calls on us not to just choose it, but to work for it. Not to just wait for it, but to watch for it. To pursue it by pushing toward something better.

Like I said. Hope is a practice.

Photo by egil sjøholt from Pexels

The Whole Picture

I’ve worn bifocals for years. They allow me to see both near and far, read, and safely drive a car. Without my dual lenses life would become a bit one-dimensional.

The state in which we find ourselves today, where the racism upon which this country was built and continues to be sustained, has been laid bare. The needs that must be addressed have been brought into sharp focus, and we must not look away. It is difficult to view life through any other lens.

The danger in only seeing the world through a single lens is that we become one-dimensional people.

Lately, whenever I turn my attention elsewhere, away from the shame of our racist past and my part in it, the pain of our racist present, and the threat of a continuing racist future, I feel a little guilty. Like I am being shallow or selfish for finding moments of hilarity, causes for joy, or the simple pleasures found in a good novel, good food, good wine, or a hike in the woods. How can I allow myself to feel good when there is so much bad to be reckoned with?

I let myself feel good because I must.

We all must.

We must stay connected to our innate goodness in order to oppose that which is bad.

We must laugh every chance we get because a merry heart does good like a medicine. And when it comes to the virus of racism, we are all called to be healers. Especially if we are white.

We must find causes for joy so that we can address the issues that are causing such deep sorrow.

We must delight in simple pleasures lest we give up because it is simply too hard.

We must never lose sight of the whole picture.

#dailydoseofhope

To HOPE is to be in a confident state of anticipation and expectation.

Hope can mean different things to different people. For me, it is to set an intention to look for good things to occur, to believe that goodness is always an option, and that in the long run, goodness will prevail, despite evidence to the contrary.

Hope is both a choice and a practice, and In order to keep hope alive, we need to look for it, foster it, and participate in it.

Every day.

For example:

Gracie, our 8 week old chocolate labradoodle, has accepted us as her family. After only four days here, she feels safe and secure in her new home, invites us to play with abandon, and is sleeping peacefully in her crate, which means we are sleeping too. Because of Gracie, I am filled with hope for what family, trust, play, and a good night of sleep can do

This morning my good friend David Berry gave me a shout out in his daily blog. He included a link to a piece I’d written, referred to me as his friend and thought partner, and then, using my words as a jumping off place, offered his own piece that is both beautiful and profoundly practical. Because of David, I am filled with hope for what collaboration, friendship, a passion for doing good work, and offering our gifts to the world can do.

I heard James Doty, neurosurgeon, tell Krista Tippet (On Being) that he believes we are at the beginning of the Age of Compassion. If that possibility isn’t a dose of hope, I don’t know what is. His book, Into the Magic Shop: A Neurosurgeon’s Quest to Discover the Mysteries of the Brain and the Secrets of the Heart arrived today, and I can’t wait to dive in. Because of Dr. Doty, I am filled with hope for what compassion, new discoveries in neurosurgery, and the magic that happens when head and heart are connected can do

My husband turned 71 today, and he can run circles around men many years younger. After 25 years together, there isn’t a person on the planet that I’d rather spend my time with. He chooses to show up for life and our marriage every day every day. Because of Tom, I am filled with hope for what commitment, love, and an exuberance for life can do.

And, then of course, there’s Nate Burleson. An American football commentator and former WR in the NFL, he talks in this clip about why he believes the Seattle Seahawks are going to make it into the playoffs. My team had an especially slow start this season, but they are on a roll now. Because of Nate’s confidence in the Hawks, I am filled with hope for what determination, grit, brotherhood, and a unique coaching philosophy can do. Go Hawks!

Like exercise and taking your vitamins, make sure and get your #dailydoseofhope

Working For Hope

“Don’t wait for good things to happen to you. If you go out and make some good things happen, you will fill the world with hope, you will fill yourself with hope.”

~ Barack Obama

Hope is not static.

It is a noun that names a state of expectancy and anticipation, and, it is a verb that describes an active expectation and anticipation for a treasured outcome. Hope is a two-step process.

Step one is gaining clarity on a treasured outcome. The more clear the desired outcome, the stronger the state of expectancy and anticipation as we wait for our hopes to be fulfilled.

Do you want to write a book? Create a more fulfilling life? Stand on a stage and move an audience? Make a ton of money? Help heal the earth? Climb a mountain?

Step one only gets us so far.

Step two is doing something about attaining what we hope for.

Books get written by those who write. A fulfilling life might mean letting go of what and who no longer fit, in order to fit in what and who just might. The stage door opens for those with a compelling message. People will pay big money for what they deem valuable. The smallest right actions helps to restore the planet. Summiting a mountain starts with summiting a hill.

Sometimes hope looks like waiting and working your ass off all at the same time.