The Hebrew word for hope, tikvah, evolved from an Akkadian word meaning a single strand of spider silk. Something impossibly thin and practically invisible is the origin of hope. When this strand is woven together with other strands, coiling into something stronger, something we can hold on to, our hope strengthens and supports us.
How interesting that a spider web is a piece of art and beauty, as well as a place of danger and fear, a home and a trap. It is a perfect balance of tautness and looseness that is not meant to last. Perhaps this is where hope is born, in the tension between possibility and despair that is too thin to trust but too powerful to ignore. I think this is the filament that connects soul mates’ hearts, a life-line that is almost sure to break but somehow never does.
At times I struggle with hope, finding that regret or exhaustion darken my world and blur my vision of a potential future, of my ability to expect something wonderful. But hope always finds a way to sneak back into my life. Sometimes it is the sliver of a new moon or the impossible colors of a mountain rainbow. Sometimes it is the warmth of the sun, and sometimes it is the chill of fresh snow. Often it is a trail under my feet or the voice of the ocean as she wraps her waves around my feet. It emerges unexpectedly as I stroke my dog’s fur, or when I help a lost stranger.
Perhaps hope is playing a backward game of hide-and-tempt with me, teasing me with promises of love and faith, other versions of hope, until I laughingly emerge, leaving fear behind. And then, like a spider, I weave my many life-strands together and turn my life into a work of art.
For me losing hope meant I stopped trying to fight the battles that overwhelmed me. And that’s how, in a way, I won the war and regained my mental freedom! I think that hope has a dark side in the way that it impacts the mind. Hope is an intense yearning for something to happen: You hope to conquer a health issue, you hope to get into your favorite restaurant, you hope to find love one day, you hope to overcome the pesky problem that’s weighing you down, and lastly you hope the Denver Broncos will (please) just win one more Super Bowl. Hope can become an ironic mental prison by its mere intensity and dominance of your thoughts. Sometimes losing hope lets you see other ways to achieve what you desire or find what you need.
Thank you SO much Anthony for your thoughtful comments. It is true that sometimes we need to let go of what we think we need, what we think will make us happy, so we can see the many other options in the world. Thank you for adding this insight.
Beautiful blog, well written and the message is laced with the power of hope.
Thank you for your comments. We can move from fear to hope