Hope is a wonderful feeling. It’s also hard to hold. I guess some people have it most of the time, which must be a very nice experience.
I wonder if the people who have hope most or even all of the time are consciously aware of it? Maybe it’s an ongoing feeling that is so normal they don’t think about it.
I get bursts of hope –sometimes in large doses and other times small ones, but it comes and it goes.
It’s like being on a merry-go-round. Sometimes I jump off where there isn’t any hope and instead a great void of darkness. It is from this desperately sorrowful place that I search for hope, because that’s the only thing strong enough to pull me out. The trick is me being able to see it, grab it and hold on to it long enough to stand on the ground again.
Round and round I go. Lose it, find it, lose it and find it again.
My losing hope feels like a normal human response to chronic repeated difficult situations filled with fear and grief. It comes from not knowing what to do or being too tired to do what I think might help me find some peace.
Hope instills peace and joy. If I could hold hope long enough, I’d have a better chance at feeling joy. I might even feel happy again, like I did a long time ago.
Hope must be something you have to nurture. It must be akin to yeast if you want bread to rise. It might be the same to the spirit and mind as water is to the physical body. Maybe we can’t survive without it.
Hope is hard to hold. I keep losing it, but then again, I keep finding it.
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