What a thoughtful and wise post. I wrote a book about spiritual practice called Waiting: A Nonbeliever's Higher Power; it begins with a chapter titled 'Despair.' I went back and forth a long time deciding whether to open there, and ultimately I'm glad I did; people reach for each other's words when they are in despair, and I wanted to provide not an answer or a solution but a hand reaching back in acknowledgement that yes, despair is real and also, one does not need to experience it in isolation or in perpetuity. Experiencing it as a starting point rather than as a terminus has changed it for me, at least. There's a lot of not knowing - of waiting - in the state, but that allows time for the arrival of hope. Thank you for this reminder, Liz. xo
Isn't that the best adage, Sue? It seems to relate to recovery programs and morphs from buses to trains here and there, but the mode of transportation is of no consequence. It's staying with the ride that matters! Thanks for reminding me and for spending some time with me today. Your last line made me laugh out loud. 😂
“Not because light is certain, but because reaching for it is what keeps us alive.” Yes.
I love the idea of hope and despair as a cranky couple who live side-by-side. And it is among my favorite of human qualities that hope can indeed rise smack-dab in the middle of despair.
I really appreciate the lack of easy answers here. I'm wondering if you're familiar with the work of Jeffrey Duncan-Andrade, who wrote about critical hope and distinguishes between it and what he calls hokey hope or mythical hope. It was so helpful for me when I was working in difficult circumstances. This is academic, but I like going to the original source: https://www.sjsu.edu/people/marcos.pizarro/courses/185/s1/DuncanAndradeHOPE.pdf
His metaphor is roses growing in concrete, which is very much like your pokeweed.
Oh, Rita. The longer I live, the more I am skeptical of anything that presents itself as an easy answer.
I'm not familiar with Duncan-Andrade's work, but I look forward to digging into that paper and his take on the matter. Roses, pokeweed -- it's the rising that matters.
Thanks so much for adding to the conversation today.
Thank you, Elizabeth. Sometimes, I think if hope dies, life can be too bleak to carry on. Hope is ephemeral, but it contains a seed of reality. I vote for keeping hope, whatever its flaws.
In my estimation, that's a worthwhile vote, Switter.
The death of hope is a painful thing to consider. I know that kind of sorrow exists and takes people down with it. I want to believe something restorative is always about to spring to life, but some of us aren't willing - or able - to wait for it.
Thoughtful and wide-reaching, Elizabeth. I love the logic of this: "Hope doesn’t cancel despair. Sometimes, it emerges right in the middle of it—unexpected and impossible to ignore, a green shoot in stone." -- I immediately see myself flip it around to ask, "Hope doesn't cancel despair, but does despair cancel hope?" Hope seems, of course, to be a balancing force, a mitigating factor that can bring light to sit next to despair, but from the other direction, hope has to be strong to hold its own, to keep standing, to keep looking forward, and to maintain state. Hope is intriguing.... strong and yet it exudes a certain lightness.... maybe a certain purity of belief. The plant.... wonderful (and a timely find?).
"That plant in the ice house? It didn’t wait for perfect conditions. It just grew."
Thank you for making me think further, Amy. That's a fascinating question, and again, any answers that come to mind are complex and uncertain. So much depends on circumstances and tenacity. In fact, I wondered while writing this whether hope in the form that comes closest to despair is akin to the will to live.
A layer of thought that I edited away grew out of having recently watched (and then read passages from) 12 Years a Slave. In the original memoir, best I can tell, Solomon Northrop uses the word despair nine times, hope 28 times. I don't know that's possible, given what he experienced.
I think the key is perhaps to live for today as the Buddhists say. The past is gone. We can grieve softly, gently, but perhaps not dwell. So hard to do when one loses what or who one loves, what or who one trusts in.
But I applaud the theory. If we concentrate on the day, as your little pokeweed has obviously done, look where it takes you! Nature has this remarkable way of showing us how to move on. Not to think about tomorrow, but how to make today a day of wonder. So it was for the pokeweed which chose each day to keep growing against the odds...
Yes, the Buddhist path is probably best represented in the pokeweed, Prue. I'm less practiced at following it and ultimately didn't include it as I lacked confidence that I could write from a place of understanding. That said, it was part of a preliminary conversation with dear husband when he contrasted the philosophy against the activism sometimes seen in passionate practitioners. "How do you reconcile activism if you're not looking to the future?" he asked. Something to consider. Concentrate on the day: Something to aspire to. Thank you!
I'm such a newbie at Buddhism, Elizabeth. But I'm guessing that if we concentrate only on this day, it prepares us for the next. Of course one has to plan (I'm the original planner and listmaker) but I think by concentrating on today and what it requires, tomorrow will be more powerful?
I am currently looking for a local Geshe or teacher and it's certainly a question I would ask. I'll let you know the answer...
Yes! Opening ourselves to something. That's 100% it, Jill. Hoping as an act of community sounds right to me. Thank you so much for being part of this one.
Both photos strike a cord with me. I don’t think I have ever seen the Edvard Munch painting. It really speaks to my periodic sense of despair. I had a visceral reaction to it. That doesn’t happen to me very often with paintings. And then at the other end of the spectrum, the pokeweed. For me, it’s a wonderful message of hope. Thankfully, I find that out in the backyard quite a lot. And I believe, like I think you do, that two very different things can exist at the same time.I’m reminded of a story about the Dalai Lama who was sitting eating his breakfast while reading the newspaper. His student came in to the room and reminded him that he, himself had said that each activity should be done mindfully, implying that the Dalai Lama should either be reading the newspaper or eating breakfast, but not both at the same time The Dalai Lama smiled and said, “I am mindfully eating breakfast and reading the paper.”
Now that I have told that story, I’m not sure it’s true, but the lighthearted nature of it reduces the weight of despair. I sometimes feel. I find hope in that.
Thanks for sharing all of this, Darrell. Always good to know that the images take the message beyond where it might land with just words. And not surprisingly, perhaps, I sometimes spend a lot of time selecting them.
Wonderful words.... I will keep reaching...
I know you will -- even when it's hard. Thank you for all the ways you inspire me, Barry!
I am saving this dense piece to read and re-read, considering it a generous gift.
I'm grateful to know that, Kim. If more thoughts rise to the surface, I invite you to come back to explore them here.
Thank you for putting hope in perspective
Making our way is a group effort these days, isn't it, Kathy? Thanks for taking time to read and comment.
What a thoughtful and wise post. I wrote a book about spiritual practice called Waiting: A Nonbeliever's Higher Power; it begins with a chapter titled 'Despair.' I went back and forth a long time deciding whether to open there, and ultimately I'm glad I did; people reach for each other's words when they are in despair, and I wanted to provide not an answer or a solution but a hand reaching back in acknowledgement that yes, despair is real and also, one does not need to experience it in isolation or in perpetuity. Experiencing it as a starting point rather than as a terminus has changed it for me, at least. There's a lot of not knowing - of waiting - in the state, but that allows time for the arrival of hope. Thank you for this reminder, Liz. xo
This is wise advice. Thank you.
She's a wise person. :)
Oh, yes, Marya. Despair as a starting point - exactly! And how comforting to think in terms of allowing time for hope to arrive.
Another book? Woman, you just keep pulling rabbits out of your hat! Thank you for adding to the conversation today. It's wonderful to see you here.
This is exactly what I have been feeling the last year. You have captured it so beautifully. I think I have my answer now. Thank you.
Amy, it means so much to know that this landed in a soft spot for you. Hugs...and thanks!
Really interesting and inspiring post, Elizabeth. I hope more folks are as moved by your words as I was.
I'm honored to be part of the exploration, Teresa. We need to each other to find our way! Thank you so very much for joining in here, and beyond.
Beautiful piece, Elizabeth. Thoughtful and timely, to say the least.
I've been sharing this next quote widely as I found it so effective so forgive if I already posted here!
It's attributed to Jamie Lee Curtis and so relatable for the current times:
"Stay on the bus. The scenery is gonna change."
We mustn't lose hope. (HINT: Also avoid all existentialist reading till further notice lol. Those dudes are DARK ...)
Isn't that the best adage, Sue? It seems to relate to recovery programs and morphs from buses to trains here and there, but the mode of transportation is of no consequence. It's staying with the ride that matters! Thanks for reminding me and for spending some time with me today. Your last line made me laugh out loud. 😂
The photo…thank you for the photo
☺️ You are so welcome! Thank you for noticing.
“Not because light is certain, but because reaching for it is what keeps us alive.” Yes.
I love the idea of hope and despair as a cranky couple who live side-by-side. And it is among my favorite of human qualities that hope can indeed rise smack-dab in the middle of despair.
Beautiful post, Elizabeth.
And when it does, at last, everything shifts. (!!)
Thank you, Holly. Such a boost to know this made a connection for you.
I really appreciate the lack of easy answers here. I'm wondering if you're familiar with the work of Jeffrey Duncan-Andrade, who wrote about critical hope and distinguishes between it and what he calls hokey hope or mythical hope. It was so helpful for me when I was working in difficult circumstances. This is academic, but I like going to the original source: https://www.sjsu.edu/people/marcos.pizarro/courses/185/s1/DuncanAndradeHOPE.pdf
His metaphor is roses growing in concrete, which is very much like your pokeweed.
Oh, Rita. The longer I live, the more I am skeptical of anything that presents itself as an easy answer.
I'm not familiar with Duncan-Andrade's work, but I look forward to digging into that paper and his take on the matter. Roses, pokeweed -- it's the rising that matters.
Thanks so much for adding to the conversation today.
Thank you, Elizabeth. Sometimes, I think if hope dies, life can be too bleak to carry on. Hope is ephemeral, but it contains a seed of reality. I vote for keeping hope, whatever its flaws.
In my estimation, that's a worthwhile vote, Switter.
The death of hope is a painful thing to consider. I know that kind of sorrow exists and takes people down with it. I want to believe something restorative is always about to spring to life, but some of us aren't willing - or able - to wait for it.
So good to see you here today.
"To hope is to give yourself to the future". Thank you for your thoughtful post.
Solnit is masterful!
Thank you, Nancy, for spending some time thinking with me today.
Thoughtful and wide-reaching, Elizabeth. I love the logic of this: "Hope doesn’t cancel despair. Sometimes, it emerges right in the middle of it—unexpected and impossible to ignore, a green shoot in stone." -- I immediately see myself flip it around to ask, "Hope doesn't cancel despair, but does despair cancel hope?" Hope seems, of course, to be a balancing force, a mitigating factor that can bring light to sit next to despair, but from the other direction, hope has to be strong to hold its own, to keep standing, to keep looking forward, and to maintain state. Hope is intriguing.... strong and yet it exudes a certain lightness.... maybe a certain purity of belief. The plant.... wonderful (and a timely find?).
"That plant in the ice house? It didn’t wait for perfect conditions. It just grew."
Thank you for making me think further, Amy. That's a fascinating question, and again, any answers that come to mind are complex and uncertain. So much depends on circumstances and tenacity. In fact, I wondered while writing this whether hope in the form that comes closest to despair is akin to the will to live.
A layer of thought that I edited away grew out of having recently watched (and then read passages from) 12 Years a Slave. In the original memoir, best I can tell, Solomon Northrop uses the word despair nine times, hope 28 times. I don't know that's possible, given what he experienced.
The pokeweed found me at just the right moment.
I think the key is perhaps to live for today as the Buddhists say. The past is gone. We can grieve softly, gently, but perhaps not dwell. So hard to do when one loses what or who one loves, what or who one trusts in.
But I applaud the theory. If we concentrate on the day, as your little pokeweed has obviously done, look where it takes you! Nature has this remarkable way of showing us how to move on. Not to think about tomorrow, but how to make today a day of wonder. So it was for the pokeweed which chose each day to keep growing against the odds...
Yes, the Buddhist path is probably best represented in the pokeweed, Prue. I'm less practiced at following it and ultimately didn't include it as I lacked confidence that I could write from a place of understanding. That said, it was part of a preliminary conversation with dear husband when he contrasted the philosophy against the activism sometimes seen in passionate practitioners. "How do you reconcile activism if you're not looking to the future?" he asked. Something to consider. Concentrate on the day: Something to aspire to. Thank you!
I'm such a newbie at Buddhism, Elizabeth. But I'm guessing that if we concentrate only on this day, it prepares us for the next. Of course one has to plan (I'm the original planner and listmaker) but I think by concentrating on today and what it requires, tomorrow will be more powerful?
I am currently looking for a local Geshe or teacher and it's certainly a question I would ask. I'll let you know the answer...
Not even looking for answers, but opening myself to something--hope?
I hope for you and with you and share that hope, never neglecting that it contains within it despair....
Yes! Opening ourselves to something. That's 100% it, Jill. Hoping as an act of community sounds right to me. Thank you so much for being part of this one.
Both photos strike a cord with me. I don’t think I have ever seen the Edvard Munch painting. It really speaks to my periodic sense of despair. I had a visceral reaction to it. That doesn’t happen to me very often with paintings. And then at the other end of the spectrum, the pokeweed. For me, it’s a wonderful message of hope. Thankfully, I find that out in the backyard quite a lot. And I believe, like I think you do, that two very different things can exist at the same time.I’m reminded of a story about the Dalai Lama who was sitting eating his breakfast while reading the newspaper. His student came in to the room and reminded him that he, himself had said that each activity should be done mindfully, implying that the Dalai Lama should either be reading the newspaper or eating breakfast, but not both at the same time The Dalai Lama smiled and said, “I am mindfully eating breakfast and reading the paper.”
Now that I have told that story, I’m not sure it’s true, but the lighthearted nature of it reduces the weight of despair. I sometimes feel. I find hope in that.
Thanks for sharing all of this, Darrell. Always good to know that the images take the message beyond where it might land with just words. And not surprisingly, perhaps, I sometimes spend a lot of time selecting them.
The painting is newer to me, too. In fact there are quite a few with a similar theme, the most famous being The Scream (https://live-for-art.com/works/painting/the-scream-by-munch-eight-versions/) I think there is a universality to them which is why they speak to us as they do.
Such a Dalai Lama-style story, even if it's not true! 😅
Grateful to have you join the conversation again. It's great to see you.