Hope.
It's such a small word.
Delicate even.
But it can have huge life altering repercussions.
Not always the good kind.
Hope begs us to keep it close when things don't go the way we think
they should. It asks us to cultivate it like a little seed.
To bury it in our hearts and let it grow in our dreams.
That may sound all charming, and lovely.
And it feels that way in the process.
Humans have an incredible ability to keep up hope.
We love hope.
Jason Mraz loves hope.
Taylor Swift, in spite of her ridiculous claims to otherwise, loves hope.
We all love hope.
We love Louis Zamperini's saga that is "Unbroken", because of the
herald for hope he was. (Side note-I highly recommend this
film, for among many other things, it hands us the perspective that
we have a few choice moments, usually the hardest ones we will face,
that are the crossroads for either a life of regret, or of victory.)
We love Louis Zamperini's saga that is "Unbroken", because of the
herald for hope he was. (Side note-I highly recommend this
film, for among many other things, it hands us the perspective that
we have a few choice moments, usually the hardest ones we will face,
that are the crossroads for either a life of regret, or of victory.)
I'm not talking about that cutesy little, "Oh I hope I get XYZ for my birthday"
kind of hope. We give up on that pretty quickly.
I mean that deep hope, that burrows into your soul,
imprints itself into your being, and eventually becomes
what you identify as.
But then our dreams don't get fulfilled, they get shattered.
Our heart, now grown fonder of the hope, gets broken.
And while we try to pick up the pieces and move on,
we find that seed of hope.
And it leaves a bad taste in our mouths.
Stupid idiot, why did you ever hope?
You could have stopped hoping, and avoided all this, you know.
You could have been sensible, logical even, would that have been so hard?
Good grief, you could have been a hermit with 50 dozen books on World War II alone!
Aaah, a little too close to home there.
