What if you could get back all of the minutes you spent afraid?
What if you were gifted all of the hours you spent hesitating because you believed that the unknown was somehow scarier than the torment of regret?
Close your eyes and imagine that first time your soul retreated in fear; that your mind eclipsed your gut in the name of safety.
Remember when you fed yourself poison and called it security?
Can you recall when you caught yourself showing your children or loved ones, with impressive detail and hysteric confidence, that quiet, calculated, static movements are the better choice; that the shit we swallow is somewhow worth the stomache ache that follows?
When you feel the weight of your weakness (as I often do), consider that the sheer gift of your presence is proof that your stonger than any regret you have, or any mistake that you made. You are still here and very simply put that means you ain’t through. Look inward and do not forget to marvel at your endurance.
Cornel West says, “I cannot be an optimist, but I am a prisoner of hope.” Isn’t that great? It’s an acknowledgement of the overwhelming evidence that there’s no reason to look forward, but the accptance of a persistent faith that good, right, love, joy will prevail.
Hope, my lovelies, is my jam.
Hope is how we help each other reboot aftere we disappoint ourselves, or tear ourselves to shreds chasing lies. Hope is the salve that overpowers the deepest pain of past and present. But we must be willing to offer it, share it, manifest it for each other. Sometimes we want to hoard hope for our own personal goals, dreams, and agendas; as if there isn’t enough to go around. We worry that if we deposit our hope into others there’s nothing left for us. But I believe with everything in me that hope loves, thrives and multiplies when it is passed from one bruised soul to another. It grows wings, arms, eyes, and hands when it is exchanged. If we exchanged words and demonstrations of hope as much as we traded lamentations, we just might make a few inroads out of the nagging, gnawing scars that keep us from taking the risks that would bring us true happiness. To be surrounded by a solidarity of hope? Now that could move mountains.
I am woefully aware that this is no simple request. Transforming thought and behavior requires a focus that I myself don’t always possess. But how about we try it anyway? Try it once today, twice tomorrow, three time on Monday and so forth. A word or action that breeds hope just might help heal us from the inside out.
And healing brings the peace we need to offer up bigger, better, truer love. Yep, I’m on one today. This is me choosing hope and offering it to you. Pass it on, hear?