That four-letter word
A few days ago I read something about HOPE that got me thinking… unfortunately, I can’t remember where I read it nor who said it!*
But it stuck with me and made me reflect…
In itself, this four-letter word carries so much weight. It can mean many different things to us all. For some, it might be a sign to soldier on, until brighter days come along. For others, it can mean quite the opposite; the tunnel can be so dark that it becomes a word that is too heavy to carry. For others still, it could be a concept that is so alien to them as they go about living their lives on automatic-mode, a way to survive from one day to the next, that it is merely a sound, meaningless.
And while the point of this post is not to delve into my personal health situation, it would be remiss of me to write about hope and not share that the word carries very special meaning for me because HOPE is the name I have given my stoma (it’s a thing with ostomates, we name our stomas). I’ve had ‘her’ for over 8 years having been diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis over 16 years ago.
Back to what I read…
This piece spoke about how hope is not about a destination, it is not the knowledge that things will turn out well, it is not the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.
(Because of course, the truth is that things do not always turn out well.)
Rather, having hope means knowing that despite the darkness of that moment, life is worth experiencing, in its fullest, and that even in the darkness there is light.
As I reflected on this, I thought that hope is like this dandelion. In this moment it is fully present while carrying within itself the seeds for its own metamorphosis. It exists in two states, now, and potential. And one does not exist without the other.
I love this way of looking at hope… Hope becomes an action, it is an acknowledgement of what is, and it is a choice, a way to make meaning.
Hope is the light in the now.
And so the action we take is in choosing that light over the fear that can weigh us down. It is us saying we want to see the beauty, we believe in the ebb and flow that is daily living, and we embrace it in all its moments.
Of course, this is a radical choice, and not always possible at all times, so it is also gently breathing through each moment when anything more would be too much.
And in the therapeutic space, hope holds a special meaning for me. It is that which I hold for my clients when they cannot hold it for themselves, and it is sharing this holding with them until they can step into it. It is a privilege that I cherish and that humbles me. And it is another step towards authentic connection with an other.
*If you can share a source for this, feel free to contact me and I will happily credit.