I’ve never really had a “word for the year” or whatever that theme word concept is called. In fact, I only know about it from blogs. I’m not sure that I’ve ever met anyone who talked about using a mantra word for a year offline. Normally words fit better with goals and seasons that have little to do with calendar years.
Still. No, “still” isn’t my word, still is the interjection that I need to remind myself of the existence of hope this year. I’m not going to try to force myself to hope, I’m simply going to cultivate awareness and remembrance of hope when I am able.
In a wry moment of numbness the other day I realized that even thoughts of suicide can be an expression of hope. After all, there is no point in contemplating drastic measures without the hope that finally at least death will end the agony.
With a standard like that it’s rather impossible for me to fail at hope this year, no?
Hope is a funny thing- so insidiously personal. I realized recently that a friend thinks I don’t care if she fails at a certain goal when, in fact, the thought of her failing had never occurred to me since the goal is far below her objective ability. Yet she struggles without the hope that this goal could be blissfully achieved, and I wonder whether I am similarly blind.
Is there a chance that I could be far better at certain things in my life than I dare to believe, and that even if I do fail at certain initial steps I should laugh it off as a fluke? Rationally I know that is reasonably likely, but it is so much easier to see in the life of a much more talented friend. It feels like a ridiculously boisterous act of hope for me.