The Question of Hope - Reimagining Hope as Embrace of Present Moment

I have often been confused by the word hope. With everything going on in the world these days - politically, economically, environmentally, technologically, and even personally - the word seems to have become a staple in our daily conversations. Everywhere I turn, I am reminded to “keep hope alive,” “don’t give up hope,” “let hope be your beacon.” On the flip side people tell me how they need to stay hopeful or they couldn’t go on. For without hope, they would fall into despair. What remains unclear and confusing to me is the definition of hope.

What does hope mean to you?
How does hope influence your life?
In what ways does hope help or prevent you from engaging with the present realities of your day to day life?

I have concluded from all my conversations with patients and friends (a very curated sample, I willingly admit) that many define hope as a belief in the inevitability that things work out the way we want. Thus, we tell ourselves, and others, that we must think affirmatively, envision a positive outcome, and avoid speaking of anything contrary to our desires.

The great philosopher-poet Frederick Nietzsche spent his entire life grappling with hope. In one of his earlier works, Human, All Too Human (1878), he speaks about how such an approach to hope keeps us stuck in the endless cycle of suffering. On his discussion of the myth of Pandora, the first human female created by Hephaestus at Zeus’s bidding as a punishment to humans (after Prometheus stole fire from Zeus), he writes:

“Pandora brought the jar with the evils and opened it. It was the gift of the gods to men, a gift of fair appearance. Then all evils, those living, moving things, flew out, but Hope remained at the bottom of the jar. Pandora shut the lid at the behest of Zeus and thus Hope remained inside… Hope is in truth the most evil of evils because it prolongs man’s torment.”

Here Nietzsche views hope negatively, as an existential power that strips us of our ability to be present, prevents us from seeing mindfully and clearly, stops us from engaging with the actualities of our day to day experiences. Hope impedes us from living in the moment and being attuned to our current conditions. Hope, in this view, is an expectation, an act of longing, a yearning for things to turn out a particular way.

Karl Löwith, in his book Meaning in History, expounds on this theme:

“[The Pandora myth] is an evil which seems to be good, for hope is always hoping for something better. But it seems hopeless to look forward to better times in the future, since there is hardly a future which, when it has become present, does not disappoint.”

Here again, hope leads to suffering, but only when hope is an incessant attachment to an outcome. Countless scholarly and psychological papers discuss how those most impacted, those who suffer the most, are the ones with the greatest hope, since when the future arrives and the aspirations to which they clung so desperately failed to transpire, they were thrust head first into pit of confusion, and they were confronted with the need to rethink all that they believed.

This version of hope, a form of toxic positivity, is so entangled in the American idea of manifestation - think it into being. How often have friends urged me to refrain from thinking, or at least speaking, certain thoughts. Don’t even put that out there, they say, which basically translates to, don’t say such negative thoughts aloud otherwise you will speak them into being. Thinking negative thoughts, they fear, manifests them into existence. Is that so? How many negative thoughts passed through my consciousness, even within the past hour, that have failed to transpire? I am reminded of my childhood self. When my parents were late returning home from an evening out, my thoughts immediately grew dark - they died in a car accident. I was certain of it. Like clockwork this thought took up residence in my mind and failed to let go until they were back home, safe and sound. And by the way, I must add, this scenario never came to pass, I did not manifest it into being. Similarly, how many dreams and desires have I repeatedly incanted with the intent of breathing life into them to no avail?

When we fear our thoughts, telling ourselves that we shouldn’t think such things lest they become our reality, then we have rendered our own minds and mental formations an enemy. And what happens then? We go to battle with our very selves. When we are at war with ourselves, there is no salvation, no peace, no end. Thus, hope, in the form of expectations, becomes, as Nietzsche puts it, the most evil of evils.

Yet, what if hope is not the denial of current reality but an embrace of it? What would hope look like if we did not cling to tightly to positive outcomes? How and what can we practice that recognize that things might not turn out the way want? Is there another way to practice hope?

The first time I read these words by the political activist, poet, playwright, and first president of the Czech Republic, Vaclav Havel, I knew I found my instructions for life. He writes:

“Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.”

He distinguishes between hope and optimism as follows:

“I am not an optimist, because I am not sure that everything ends well. Nor am I a pessimist, because I am not sure that everything ends badly. I just carry hope in my heart. Hope is the feeling that life and work have a meaning. You either have it or you don’t, regardless of the state of the world that surrounds you. Life without hope is an empty, boring, and useless life. I cannot imagine that I could strive or something if I did not carry hope in me.”

My thoughts drift back to all the conversation with hospice patients; to the countless talks with people living with HIV, ALS, MS, cancer; to endless discussions about treatment options and their purpose. Was the goal to cure the disease or bring some ease? Was it to keep hope alive or to engage in life more fully, which includes acknowledging and embracing current reality? When we spend all our time hoping for a different life, we never learn to tolerate the life we have. How much time, energy, and life force goes into avoiding our current existence? This is larger than health and healthcare. How do we show up while witnessing all the collapse around us? How do we orient to the suffering that arises when we see destruction, decay and erosion of not only people we cherish but ideas and ideals, beliefs, systems, institutions? How do we tolerate the discomfort that arises as we watch the collapse of democracy, freedom, justice, environment, and more? Being present to all of this, we may feel deep anguish and despair, yet what if such intense states were not the inverse of hope (hopelessness)? What if we learned to tolerate such discomfort, such grief and suffering, and yet still breathe into our lives? If our agony and despair are another thing to fix, then we go to battle with our emotions, and you know what happens then.

The great political activist Cornell West reminds us that you cannot have hope without despair, nor should you try to rid yourself of despair. As he shares so eloquently:

“Those who have never despair have neither lived nor loved. Hope is inseparable from despair. Those of us who truly hope make despair a constant companion whom we out wrestle every day owning to our commitment to justice, love, and hope. It is impossible to look honestly at our catastrophic conditions and not have some despair dash it is a healthy sign of how deeply we care. It is a mark of maturity - a rejection of cheap American optimism.”

So I ask:

What does hope mean to you? What is your relationship with hope?
How does your definition, your way of hoping, impact your ability to show up, breathe into life, and take action?
How do you want to be no matter what?
How do you want to be with your thoughts, whether positive or negative? How do you want to respond when such thoughts arise? When feelings of sadness, grief, despair come to the table and seem like they will never leave?
How do you want to breathe into this very moment, not because it is the right thing to do or will have a desired outcome, but because it is worth doing?