Hope's Renewal

Sips of possibility

In hatred as in love, we grow like the thing we brood upon. What we loathe, we graft into our very soul. ~ Mary Renault

I reflected upon this quote as I meditated.

I reflected on the pain and hatred that ravages the world ‘out there.’ How they spill out of my device and seep into my thoughts. How they can define my daily experience as I begin to look for strife in every interaction.

Seek, and you shall find.

Hope is precious and impermanent. It’s precious not for its lack; it is renewable. But it will founder and dissipate if not tended.

The tiniest sips of possibility allow hope to spring forth anew. Hope can alter everything—my very chemistry changes.

I must not stare daily into the gaping maw of despair wrought through my screens; its false light, a darkness with no bottom. Down I might fall, too—its insatiable appetite sucks my very bones. I have the privilege of saying no to more. That sounds wrong when others continue to be savaged, their agony on a loop for my consumption.

When I am depleted, I cannot look away. It is an entertainment that sears my soul.

If I allow myself to rest and find hope sometimes, I seize the courage to reach through the storm to offer others respite. If not, I am nothing to anyone.

I embrace hope's renewal. These are pretty words in the absence of peace. Yet, there’s no harm in possibility; without it, only despair.

If too hard to bear in the face of slaughter, I will hold the torch for you. We are called to see the light even where none is apparent.

Hope’s flame gasps.

May its fire turn us from rage and terror to hope and comfort.

May it lead us to compassion, for all.

Photo by Eyasu Etsub on Unsplash