Saturday, December 21, 2013


Hope, I've begun to hate this word. Hold on to hope, don't give up hope, hope for a better whatever. Yada, yada, yada... Normally I smile and thank the person for the blanket response, how could they possibly know better? That's what you say when there is nothing else to say and you want to bring comfort to someone. But it feels more like a set up to be let down, or a silly fancy for the young at heart rather than anything comforting or tangible. I just couldn't do it again. Maybe it was the open accepted space of this particular yoga class that when asked, allowed me to feel the freedom to speak my mind. I just didn't want to start class in a lie. He meant well, as everyone who has uttered these words to me over the last 16 months has. It's what you say when bad things happen, as if the idea things might get better allows you to keep moving forward unchanged by the redirection of your path. But you can't. The good and the bad shape our spirits and the path gets moved and you have to adjust, adapt, and change. There are circumstances where hope doesn't get a voice. You smile and move forward all the while the voice you push down is anger and sadness and if you have to face the disappointment of hope it might just be the thing to tip the scale. Every time I hear it I feel like I've been kicked in the gut. So today I told a yogi I don't believe in hope. He was so gracious, so accepting of my feelings that I actually felt relief. It felt good to speak my truth, but it's not entirely true; I have not given up hope. I have so many hopes and dreams, they've just lost the ability to hold any weight in how I feel today. Screw hope, give me love. That is real, tangible, and something I wake up having and go to bed with every night. The only thing that brings me comfort. I am living moment to moment, hug to smile to bedtime kisses. Pain and heartache and joy and laughter never felt sweeter. As long as I have love, hope can stay in the corner. You're not out; just moved to the penalty box.