Thank you for doing this project! I’m so excited about it! Hope…when I have it, it comes in many forms. Excited anticipation. Teeth gritting, feet digging into the dirt determination. Starry eyed wonder. Owl eyed curiosity. Calm and yes, as Troy Ford said above—acceptance in the doldrums, the steadily flowing river, the battle or portage upstream, or the violent storm.
When I lose it…I’m in the dark with a dropped candle and no matches even if I could find it.
Thank you for sharing what you have learned about this vital topic. ✨🥰✨
Alexx, this is beautiful and just reading your descriptions gives me hope. Creativity is a form of hope, and I believe that every time we exercise our creative muscles our hope muscles get a boost too. Thank you for sharing your thoughts about hope and for your excitement about the project. It's going to be an interesting ride.
I’m so glad! It can be pretty contagious. Thankfully! 🥰 Oooh yes! Creativity is absolutely one of the things that keeps me going in the most helpless/hopeless seeming times.
Rev. Dr. Pauli Murray may well be Person of the Millennium! I'll write something up about Council - won't come as any surprise. It's basically a practice involving deep listening to people's stories, and developing actions related to those stories that lead to more just practices. I'm particularly interested in those practices relating to people with disabilities, such as taking the time to describe yourself if you're using Skype or Zoom. That makes it easier for people with limited vision to participate. Thanks for asking!
No joke! And thanks! Quite frankly, I had thought about describing myself on Zoom. Of course! I’ll take that to heart. Although maybe it won’t come as a surprise, I always appreciate your reminders of how to be inclusive.
I've begun reading materials and resources about a practice called Council. These practices focus on the ways we listen to one another as we share our stories. I'm hopeful that at a time when I am in despair about what's happening in the US to underserved groups such as people with disabilities, deep listening will help us to care more deeply and take actions that contribute to change. Like Annette, I knew Rev. Dr. Hope Johnson well, and think of her often. She helped me practice deep listening whenever she spoke or wrote about things that affected her. I look forward to these messages from Annette about hope.
Is it strange that I feel estranged from hope? But it's not the opposite (despair?) - it's more like acceptance, which has been a big part of my recovery from alcoholism. Hope, for some reason, feels like a day to day sort of thing - "I hope there's cake" - but acceptance is the longer arc of trying my best, accepting the outcome, and then doing it all again, every day. This is a lovely project, Annette. 💜
I understand that completely, Troy. I always hope there is cake! I call what I need hope, you call it acceptance, others call it dreams or commitment or imagination. I figure whatever works for you in trying your best to move things forward is all a part of that long arc. And thanks for your kind words (as always).
I get up each morning before the sun and spend 30 minutes or so looking out at the water and horizon, waiting for that big ball of life to appear. I never know whether it will light up a sky full of clouds, or be a gentle slide up over the horizon into a blaze of light across a clear sky. Amid all the turmoil and tension, the worry and the fear, the sun is a constant thing that gives me hope for the day.
At the Women's March in 2017, one of my favorite signs was held by a woman I would guess was probably older than me; it said "I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE STILL FIGHTING THIS SH*T"
I agree, and yet, this also gives me hope. Here we are, 8 years later, and we're still fighting. At least I am and will be. My hope is intertwined with my anger.
I remember seeing that sign too, and although I laughed, I also knew it was a sign of resilience. So here we go again! And I get hope laced with anger. Anger drives us to keep going and we keep going because we have hope we can make a difference.
Thank you for doing this project! I’m so excited about it! Hope…when I have it, it comes in many forms. Excited anticipation. Teeth gritting, feet digging into the dirt determination. Starry eyed wonder. Owl eyed curiosity. Calm and yes, as Troy Ford said above—acceptance in the doldrums, the steadily flowing river, the battle or portage upstream, or the violent storm.
When I lose it…I’m in the dark with a dropped candle and no matches even if I could find it.
Thank you for sharing what you have learned about this vital topic. ✨🥰✨
Alexx, this is beautiful and just reading your descriptions gives me hope. Creativity is a form of hope, and I believe that every time we exercise our creative muscles our hope muscles get a boost too. Thank you for sharing your thoughts about hope and for your excitement about the project. It's going to be an interesting ride.
I’m so glad! It can be pretty contagious. Thankfully! 🥰 Oooh yes! Creativity is absolutely one of the things that keeps me going in the most helpless/hopeless seeming times.
Rev. Dr. Pauli Murray may well be Person of the Millennium! I'll write something up about Council - won't come as any surprise. It's basically a practice involving deep listening to people's stories, and developing actions related to those stories that lead to more just practices. I'm particularly interested in those practices relating to people with disabilities, such as taking the time to describe yourself if you're using Skype or Zoom. That makes it easier for people with limited vision to participate. Thanks for asking!
No joke! And thanks! Quite frankly, I had thought about describing myself on Zoom. Of course! I’ll take that to heart. Although maybe it won’t come as a surprise, I always appreciate your reminders of how to be inclusive.
I've begun reading materials and resources about a practice called Council. These practices focus on the ways we listen to one another as we share our stories. I'm hopeful that at a time when I am in despair about what's happening in the US to underserved groups such as people with disabilities, deep listening will help us to care more deeply and take actions that contribute to change. Like Annette, I knew Rev. Dr. Hope Johnson well, and think of her often. She helped me practice deep listening whenever she spoke or wrote about things that affected her. I look forward to these messages from Annette about hope.
That's sounds fascinating. Would you be willing to write up something I could share in a future post about Council? I'd love that.
Is it strange that I feel estranged from hope? But it's not the opposite (despair?) - it's more like acceptance, which has been a big part of my recovery from alcoholism. Hope, for some reason, feels like a day to day sort of thing - "I hope there's cake" - but acceptance is the longer arc of trying my best, accepting the outcome, and then doing it all again, every day. This is a lovely project, Annette. 💜
I understand that completely, Troy. I always hope there is cake! I call what I need hope, you call it acceptance, others call it dreams or commitment or imagination. I figure whatever works for you in trying your best to move things forward is all a part of that long arc. And thanks for your kind words (as always).
I get up each morning before the sun and spend 30 minutes or so looking out at the water and horizon, waiting for that big ball of life to appear. I never know whether it will light up a sky full of clouds, or be a gentle slide up over the horizon into a blaze of light across a clear sky. Amid all the turmoil and tension, the worry and the fear, the sun is a constant thing that gives me hope for the day.
I think ritual is an important aspect of cultivating hope. It reminds us of what is certain, what we can count on. Thanks for this reminder.
At the Women's March in 2017, one of my favorite signs was held by a woman I would guess was probably older than me; it said "I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE STILL FIGHTING THIS SH*T"
I agree, and yet, this also gives me hope. Here we are, 8 years later, and we're still fighting. At least I am and will be. My hope is intertwined with my anger.
I remember seeing that sign too, and although I laughed, I also knew it was a sign of resilience. So here we go again! And I get hope laced with anger. Anger drives us to keep going and we keep going because we have hope we can make a difference.