Today, I will narrate a tale of hope.
Hope rests at the bottom of Pandora’s jar, with everything else making their merry way away from her, to wreak havoc on the masses. I’d like to think of hope being the last thing we’d ever have should we cease to have anything else good in our lives, for it is always kept tucked away in the deepest crevices of our souls.
I don’t lack hope, even on the days I thrive off the sensation of cynicism running through my veins, keeping everything at arms’ length should they be unfamiliar or are perceived as being too good to be good. Hope has been like the trustiest of companions, for an ever hopeful being that romanticises every possible thing.
However, hope has often eluded me on days that I needed it to be by my side, instead choosing to take a backseat on my journey. To view events unfold with some degree of objectivity and realism, hope often clouded my vision and I know better than to continue pushing it out of the way for it knows when to rest its case of convincing me that I can be hopeful while being realistic. Hope has held my hand on days that I wanted to push everything out of my path. When I wanted to be left to my own devices, it paced along and learned to be less overbearing.
To some degree, I can almost safely say that I am getting better at holding onto hope while learning to cut it some slack on how much it needs to take on for me. Hope is no longer a crutch for me. It is like platform footwear. It is a mask chain for some of the masks I don to protect or to enhance my experiences (pandemic reference, I had to). It is like additional blush I don’t really need but would be nice to apply.
As I feel myself moving through different spaces and experiencing a vastly different reality as I once imagined myself being part of, I feel so incredibly appreciative of how far hope has brought me. I once believed life’s path would have to be crystal clear, with some allowance for meandering. I now realise life is not it without unpredictability, but with some amount of level headedness and a strong sense of self and my values, I… think I’ll be fine walking down any path.
An idea and reminder I’ve found myself particularly drawn to lately is, “rejection can be redirection”. While rejection can be disappointing at best and debilitating at worst, it has led to the opening of other doors and laying of different doormats. While change may be the one constant to count on, hope’s resilience in these instances can be clearly exhibited by how it closely follows behind as I make sense of what was. Fear and Trepidation may follow and stay close as they consume the dust I leave in my wake to become stronger, but they’ll learn to be more tender as I charge forward and pay them lesser attention. Hope will definitely be the one whose hand I’ll hold as I move along.
“Rejection can be redirection.”
Hope will be the last thing to be left behind, and the universe will have its ways of surprising me. I’ll contend with what’s within my sphere of influence and means then release it to the universe to do their work. Deep in my heart and soul, I know I’ll be okay.
