Hope

I think hope is one of the most human of all human experiences. It encompasses nearly every possible emotion – sometimes in a very compressed window. I also believe hope has a couple of layers. There’s more of a superficial layer as defined by Merriam-Webster: “To want something to happen or be true.” I hope my sports team does well this season. I hope I win the lottery. I hope I’m invited to the party. This layer of hope is akin to wish fulfillment.

The second layer of hope I’m talking about here runs deeper than just thinking or feeling or believing or wishing something to be true. Let’s be honest, we’re surrounded on multiple fronts by events and activities that are tragic, inhumane, unnecessary, anxiety-inducing, frustrating, angering, appalling, difficult to believe, and any other variety of words we can think of to describe our current state of affairs. There are times (sometimes for extended periods) where we feel helpless; we feel dejection; we feel a sense of despair; we don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel. In other words…we feel hopeless. Simply hoping (wishing) these things go away doesn’t work.

This second layer of hope is a mindset that helps us navigate sh*tty situations and gives us the resolve to continue moving forward when all seems lost. This layer of hope is gritty. It’s resilient. It realizes life is a contact sport. This layer sometimes requires us to dig deep within ourselves to see…well…hope.

Charles Snyder talked about this second layer in Hope Theory. He articulated three main elements that make up hopeful thinking:

• Goals – What is the goal me/we are trying to accomplish?

• Pathways – What are the different ways we can achieve our goal(s)?

• Agency – The belief that we can instigate change and achieve these goals.

This approach provides us tools and a means to achieving that for which we hope. Will we always be successful in our pursuit of hope? No, not at all. We will have setbacks. We will have losses. We will get discouraged. But every time we get knocked down, we get back up.  

The world feels like a dark place right now. But I also know there are incredible pockets of light and amazing people doing amazing things to combat the darkness. I see it. I feel it. I experience it. And I absolutely refuse to give up hope – that rooted sense of hope that helps me get up every morning, helps me put one foot in front of the other, that gives me the strength to move forward each day. I know – in my heart of hearts – that our humanity (the goodness in all of us) won’t simply roll over and give up.

As Harvey Milk said, “Hope will never be silent.”

Until next week.

Cheers,

Andy

(All written content created the old-fashioned way.)