A mirage in the desert, the optical phenomenon we move toward, parched, exhausted, awaiting the pure water that will quench our thirst. Our desperate need against the threat of giving up, a light filled glimmer of salvation from the burning challenges of an uncertain life.
Hope
That is what it feels like to me. I don’t know if it was my religious upbringing that first instilled it in my heart, but hope has never been elusive to me. Throughout every difficulty and challenge I have faced in my life I have been able to dig deep and find that reservoir of hope to cling to, with clenched fists and courage, using it as a map to an inner strength I didn’t know existed.
Even during a childhood that often left me feeling alone, shrouded in shame and emptiness, there was always something compelling me forward, something telling me that I could do this. When I was around 12 years old a particularly vile and depraved act of abuse left me feeling as if I could not hang on or live in my home for one more second, but I had nowhere to go. I felt as though my soul had been torn from me and I simply had no will or resilience to light my way. I considered ending it all, but I couldn’t leave my younger sisters behind, and in my core, there was a knowing that something better was in store for me. I just couldn’t find it. So, through hot tears and desperation, I prayed to a God I didn’t understand and begged for mercy, for some kind of respite from the indignities and pain. And in that moment I was gifted with an experience that would forever change me. All at once, I felt as though I was being lifted, carried in the palm of a gentle, loving hand floating on a soft pillow of glorious peace and safety. My body was light, almost airy and somewhat ethereal. It felt like a dream but it was happening. A voice, as soft and certain as anyone I had ever spoken to, reassured me I was not alone and that I indeed possessed the necessary strength to endure whatever I needed. That moment was the very essence of hope for me.
Hope has long been identified with God and religion, because it involves a belief in things we desire, following our faith, an expectation of something not seen, from somewhere bigger than ourselves. But through the years, as I have evolved beyond those traditional religious narratives to a more grounding sense of spiritual oneness with the Universe, this experience remains a part of me, manifesting as an inner strength and a force field of positive energy that I was created with. My Higher Power no longer looks like the God I grew up with but remains a stalwart pillar of life-giving light, offering me the ability to find hope that never truly leaves me, holding fast to the universal truth that I am whole and everything I need is inside of me. As much as my resilience, my bravery, or my resolve, I own hope. It belongs to me. And I can say that without any doubt because I have always been okay at the end of whatever life challenge I am given. Always.
And now, as our world spins in a polarizing rhetoric of fear, panic and uncertainty, hope is needed more than any other single thing. I hear it everywhere, the whisperings of despair, despondency, demoralization of spirit. We have forgotten that we can have peace from the hope that lives inside of us but often lies buried by the circumstances we succumb to. It is always within our personal power to change the way we view anything and tap into our higher self. But how do we access that innate gift within us, that solid foundation of belief that overrides our all encompassing fear?
I’ve come to believe that hope is grounded in purpose.
I cry for our country. So often. More than fear for the virus itself I feel the soul of our nation and all we have stood for is slowly dying. My heartbreak has nowhere to go. I am an empath and I feel the profound weight of the emotional distress that I see around us. It would be so easy for me to get lost in the current state of affairs, to fear for my rights as a citizen, become obsessed about how to help everyone while still keeping the most vulnerable of us safe. But the truth is I can only control my little corner of the world. It is my responsibility and purpose to mentally release anything that I cannot contribute to and focus on how I show up moment by moment to every part of my life. So I start with what I know. I channel that flood of emotions to fuel kindness and diplomacy. To do better for the greater good, to show more humanity through understanding, be more present, offer unlimited compassion for the suffering and lonely. Yes, I fear we have gone too far as a society to ever heal from the growing seeds of hatred, so I must be and do exactly the opposite of that, and I refuse to be distracted by the confusion that would keep me from that purpose.
But let me tell you it’s hard. Like any muscle memory it takes practice to lean into hope. It takes practice to pay attention to all of our feelings and release those things that we truly cannot change. It takes practice and mindfulness to feel the pain of others and have the clarity to know where our truth lies, keeping it alive while still navigating through the discord.
It is ultimately our truth-telling that becomes our purpose. And in that we find that hope is not unreachable, but right where it has been all along, in the deep recesses of our soul waiting to offer us the tranquility we deserve.