Friday, March 4, 2011


Hope (is a well)
From my Hold on Hope series, 2011 (in progress)

I've often heard speakers begin their presentations with stories about how naive they used to be. They may describe earlier foibles and wrong-thinking with the amused affection of a parent, creating an illusion of vulnerability while actually only revealing what they have already resolved and, clearly, moved beyond. It's a fine tactic and I'm sure expresses their honest experience while establishing both rapport and context for their messages.

I imagine myself one day, many years from now, giving a speech like that; indulging, perhaps, a little self-congratulation at having finally dispelled the mire that overtakes me every time I think I've outrun it. Maybe I will describe this dry, cracked soul that begs for a hopespring while I moisten it with tears and spit and sometimes blood. Will I tell the audience how I clawed at that hard clay, stones grating my knuckles red, my fingernails broken and caked, because I didn't know what a shovel looked like? Will I say how I blamed the sky for not raining? Oh yes, of course I will. I will smile at my foolishness, hold up a shovel as a prop. All will be moved. I will stand before the people and know that I fulfill my purpose each day. I will shine with enlightenment, courage and love.

A girl can hope.


  1. You already do all of that. And don't let anyone fool you, even those that stand up and give those presentations have their bad days, their dry-cracked doubts, their hope.
    If you have hope, you have more than you know.

  2. One of the things I love about you, MrsW, is your realness. Not your putative "success", not your supposed degree of enlightenment, I don't care about any of that.

    You can give that speech, and I will sit in the audience, with tears of love and pride in my eyes. Not for your "advancement" but for your honesty. Your willingness to stand undefended, even if it's uncomfortable, for the sake of truth, and for the sake of helping another human being shoulder their own burdens with a little more hope, themselves.

    The strength and clarity of your love is stronger than your pride and your "amour-propre". I love that about you. I try to do the same, and I am endlessly grateful to you for walking beside me in this endeavor of love and truth, for the sake of what can be passed on, given forward, to the next person. If sometimes your own hope flags, perhaps that's because in those moments that hope-energy lies furled in the fruit of your harvest, for the recipient to drink from. Sometimes that recipient might be a future you, perhaps it might be another person.

    But I want to offer you my loving gratitude for how you do strive to live for more than just yourself. Even or maybe especially when it costs you your own hope in the moment.

    It may be cold comfort, I know. It may be

  3. Mrs.M, you warm my heart and help fill my hope. Karen, your comfort is never cold. You know me. You hear what I don't say. It means the world.


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