The problem with hope.

Or perhaps it is more a problem with the inconsistent approach we have toward the notion of hope. We, by turns, tell people that they have to have hope and not to get their hopes up. The various and sundry sayings on the topic run the gamut of 'there is no such thing' to 'you can't live without it.' So which is it? Or is it both? Or neither?

I considered the possibility that the difference between not getting your hopes up and having to have hope might lie in the situations that they are used. This didn't seem to work out, however.

We seem to say 'don't get your hopes up' in situations where there actually IS some small possibility that whatever we are hoping for could happen. It might not be probable or likely, but it is not totally impossible. I think we see this frequently in situations with children. It is almost parental code for 'it ain't gonna happen.' It serves to delay likely disappointment, but not much else. The person who says it probably feels fairly certain that the let-down will be coming, but doesn't want to voice the bad news yet. If the hope is that an absent parent will finally, finally come to visit or that Santa will bring a pony, the adult on the spot has a strong idea that neither one is going to happen. So what is accomplished by delaying the disappointment until the non-arrival of the parent or the pony? It could be that the adult also harbors a tiny hope that they will not have to disappoint the child. It could be that they want to protect the child from the inevitable sadness. It could be that they want to delay their own sadness in seeing the sadness of the child until the last moment. But I wonder if it really serves anyone to do so.

The same holds true when adults use it with each other. Perhaps the one saying it has seen the other person face too much disappointment and can't bear the notion that they will be flattened by disappointment yet again.

On the other hand, when things look as if they are irretrievably hopeless, we tell the person that they 'have to have hope.' "There is always hope." Etc. etc. Even when we know for a fact that there is not always hope, the semblance of hope must be maintained. In fact, the more desperate a situation looks, the more we insist that there is hope. A cure may be found. It is only temporary. It's probably not as bad as it looks. It is always said as an attempt to cheer someone up. But absent any evidence that it might be true, it frequently falls flat.

We also are skeptical of anyone who seems to maintain hope in the face of improbable odds. At the very least, we might consider them to be desperate. In the extreme, they are simple or deluded. A perpetual Pollyanna is not taken very seriously.

So what the heck is going on here? I'm not certain by any stretch of the imagination, but the most obvious possibility is that it is a vital survival mechanism. What would happen to someone who truly had no hope? There is at least some chance that they would give up and be able to release the pain of disappointment. If there is no hope, then there is no expectation and it would make the pain of disappointment less. But I think that would only be true of a minority of people. And the effort to reduce pain would also reduce joy.

Even at my most cynical and at the lowest points of my life, there has always remained just a tiny seed of hope that whatever pain or loss was going on would somehow be lessened in the future. It may not, in fact, happen, but being able to anticipate potential improvement in the future can remove enough of the edge of the current pain to carry on into the future. It could be self-delusion or a coping mechanism, but it also could be an innate survival tool. Even if it is delusional, a reasonable amount of hope cannot hurt us in the short term and may help us make it through to a better place.

"Never deprive someone of hope...it may be all they have." -- Anonymous.

Cravings

Not too long ago, I was in a conversation with a few women. And as happens among women who have given birth, we were swapping 'war stories' about our experiences. The amusing part was when we told our various craving stories. Pregnant women are notorious for craving odd things to eat. There didn't seem to be any sort of particular pattern, each of us just wanted to eat some strange things at times before our children were born. None of us were the classic pickles and ice cream cravers. In fact, I was a bit smug that before my second son was born I was strictly scarfing down raw cauliflower. We won't get into my craving for Jack in the Box tacos with the first one.

The conventional wisdom, whether it is supported by science or not I don't know, is that if one is craving something specific then it is something that you need. If you want a banana, maybe you need more potassium in your diet. If you want a dill pickle, perhaps you need sodium. I can't hazard a guess at what I might have needed from those dreadful tacos, but with healthier choices, I imagine that there could be something to the benefits of those cravings. Just so long as a craving doesn't turn itself into an addiction, there doesn't seem to be any problem in responding to it. A scoop of ice cream is fine, a half a gallon is something else entirely.

This led me to think about non-food related cravings and what they might spring from. If we carry the analogy further, surely they also reflect some sort of need that the person has. We all remember (or perhaps were) the kid in grade school who would do anything to try to be accepted by the other kids. Maybe they were a bit socially inept, perhaps they wore the 'wrong' shoes, or they were just not part of the 'in' crowd. For whatever reason, they felt incredibly isolated and generally mocked by others. Pity was the best they could hope for. But what was really going on here? Was it something worthy of pity or contempt? Not really. For whatever reason they craved connection and, some how, others found them to be unworthy of it. As they got older, they most likely just gave up and hid the need deep within themselves. Some might have even taken the 'sour grapes' tactic and decided that they never wanted it in the first place. My question is, inevitably, why? Why were they mocked for what is a natural desire?

If we look at the food cravings, they are usually met with smiles and good humor. Ha ha ha, you wanted pickles and ice cream. But there isn't any contempt as there seems to be with various cravings for human contact. In fact, even expressing them is considered to be unacceptable. Almost as if it is some sort of weakness to have human needs and admit it. And it truly has me befuddled. What is the possible risk or danger here, to either side of the equation? Nope, can't come up with anything.

Many, many years ago, I worked in the hospital wing of a very large convent. One of the sister's minds had slipped well away from the accomplished, intelligent woman that she had been earlier in her life. She spent her days yelling at little boys who weren't there and crying. Her answer, when asked why she was crying, was always the same. "No one loves me." All of her accomplishments in life disappeared in the face of unrelieved loneliness. No doubt, she had felt the loneliness for many years, but given the nature of her commitment, she probably never voiced it. And, while there was no large scale solution to her past, most of the aides could calm her merely by assuring her that they loved her.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, I used to have a next door neighbor in her 80s. She was a crusty old bird who always spoke her mind and the devil could take the hindmost. She'd been widowed, one of her sons had died, even her dog had been killed. But there was no lingering sadness or isolation in her daily life. She took to summoning me over and telling me we were going to have tea. And so we did. It never occurred to me to turn her down. She was obviously living her life on her own terms and would not sit around hoping for company, she demanded it. I think, however, that she was more of the exception than the rule.

And I wonder why. It is almost as if we have some sort of shame around asking for what we need from others. Or perhaps it is a loss of face concerning the fact that whatever it is we crave has not been given to us and we suspect that we are, therefore, not worthy of it. Could it be that those childhood traumas still inform our adult needs? Or is there some sort of tacit agreement between everyone that such things can only come as a gift and the request somehow negates that. On yet another hand, perhaps the asking carries an assumption of a demand on someone else. Or.......I don't know exactly what all else.

More importantly, how does one live truly from one's essential self, if an effort has to be maintained to deny parts of that core? How do we respond to people in our lives with cravings that we may or may not be able to answer? How do we understand them? Maybe those with cravings should feel free to ask for what they need. Maybe those hearing the request should wonder how long the person has been hungry and make them a small snack. After all, there is not anything to criticize in the cravings we all have.

Passing

"No man is an island... any man's death diminishes me for I am involved in mankind...Therefore, never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." -- John Donne, Meditation XVII.

In general, I agree with John Donne's thoughts here, although I probably understand it in a different way than he did. It seems evident to me that all life is connected in some way, and to varying degrees. Whether it be humans' connections to the various animals who are serving as the canaries in our mine of global warming or the common experiences of all people around the world, everything is connected and has some effect on everything else. Perhaps more than some, I tend to feel that connection deeply. I regularly go on news boycotts because I feel overwhelmed by the pain and tragedy it presents. I feel empathy when anyone dies. I've even been known to cry for strangers, and some fictional characters. So it came as a bit of a shock when I had to acknowledge that I had a few exceptions to that sense of connection.

Yesterday word came of the death of a person that I used to be related to. This person had disliked, maybe even hated, me almost from the minute we met. There was seemingly nothing I could do to win her over, so in time I simply withdrew. I learned later that her hatred for me continued for decades, long after there was no tie between us. But when I was told that she had died, I felt absolutely nothing. I wasn't happy that she had died nor was I sad about it. There was just a void where any feeling might have been.

This was only mildly shocking because I had an even more extreme case of it years earlier. Then it concerned a family member who was chronically abusive and actively looked for ways to harm her nearest relatives. When she died, the only way to describe my feelings would be a huge "Who Cares?' The only pain that I felt then was the horror of acknowledging just how terribly she had treated me and others.

In both cases, I managed to say all of the expected things and resist giving voice to what I was thinking about the individual. But I also couldn't help but analyze this seeming disjoint between how I thought I was and these glaring exceptions. It is a testament to my personal growth that I didn't feel that there was something wrong with me for not feeling sorrow. And I didn't try to force myself to feel something that I didn't feel. I was more curious about whether these examples were the exceptions that proved the rule or if many people respond in a similar way, but it goes unexpressed because we aren't supposed to speak ill of the dead, no matter what.

I also wondered a little bit if I have provoked the same lack of connection in others. And I am certain that there are a few other people, who used to mean something in my life, for whom I will feel nothing when they pass. And when it happens, I will say the appropriate meaningless words so that no one knows that I feel nothing. But now I know that it does not indicate something lacking in me. And as long as I don't tap dance on their graves, that is all right.

Surrender

"All of our reasoning ends in surrender to feeling." -- Blaise Pascal.

I've been mulling this quote over for awhile and still am not 100% certain what I think about it. But I believe there is something true lying beneath the surface.

When I was younger, and to a much lesser extent now, I did most of my living in my head. I could think or logic my way out of most negative or inconvenient feelings, suppressing them until I thought they were gone. Of course, I was just lying to myself in a fairly elaborate way. I don't believe that I was terribly unique in that approach, but perhaps I turned it into more of an all-encompassing thing than most folks do. And, in the end, the feelings escaped anyway.

I wonder why I thought that was an acceptable approach to life. Was it fear? That may have been part of it. In the case of my long, too long marriage, I forced myself to accept emotional sterility because I didn't want my children to grow up poor due to their parents being divorced. That was a personal demon carried forward from my own childhood. So, perhaps, it was understandable albeit unacceptable. And, frequently, rejection at the hands of others led me to hide my feelings and desires, believing that there must be something lacking in me or wrong with my feelings. It never occurred to me that the source could be anything other than something missing in me.

I don't think that fear would account for every instance where reasoning is given higher status that feeling. Modern humans have elevated reasoning and logic to a dizzying height at the expense of feelings and intuition. Even the antonyms to the words "logical" and "rational" have strongly negative overtones. They aren't just opposites, they are wrong and unacceptable. It is as if by denying inconvenient feelings we can pat ourselves on the back for being logical or rational, no matter how desolate the lack of responding to our feelings may make us feel within ourselves. I have been guilty of this for large amounts of my life.

I propose that the two ends of the spectrum should be more balanced in our lives. It's not that reasoning is a bad thing. It is vital in many parts of life. But when it shuts out feelings I believe we owe it to ourselves to examine it more closely to determine if that is the best approach to a situation.

I read a book once called The Gift of Fear by Gavin De Becker. The author asserted that if you felt fear, you shouldn't try to talk yourself out of it because, on some deep level, you had perceived a reason for that feeling. It was telling you something important about a situation and that you needed to act on that rather than dismiss it as irrational. I have come to suspect that this reasoning may be applicable to other feelings as well. We have all had the experience of immediately distrusting someone we have just met. There was no data to support this impression, but the feeling was there nonetheless. If we ignore it or talk ourselves out of the feeling, we will most likely pay for any misplaced trust.

I believe that this also applies to positive feelings as well. I think it likely that everyone has met people who they liked on first sight and went on to become fast friends with the person. Just as the fear puts us on our guard, this attraction tells us that there is something good to be experienced if we only let it.

I'm still not 100% certain what I should do with these ideas. I certainly don't want to let it devolve into a solely logical exercise. I suspect the best path for me is to make it my habit to check in with both my brain and my gut on a regular basis, see which one best addresses a situation and trust in the wisdom of either my reasoning or my feelings. At the very least it will lead me to be ever more in touch with what I truly want and need in my life, and, hopefully, to a balanced approach to life as a whole.

Happiness

"Happiness comes of the capacity to feel deeply, to enjoy simply, to think freely, to be needed." -- Storm Jameson.

When I read this quote, it struck me as true, but also as incomplete. But I think she may have left out something vital, unless it is implied by one of the others. And I also wondered whether one is truly happy if they only have 3/4 of the list or half of it.

I think that, despite the fact that it can also lead to sorrow, "to feel deeply" does belong on the happiness list. I have known people who shut off their feelings, perhaps in an effort to insulate themselves from pain, perhaps for some unknown other reason. And I always come away from encounters with them feeling as if they are basically very unhappy people, no matter how much they try to convince themselves that they are numb to it. One person even tried to tell me that I only left myself open to being hurt by caring and feeling. To which I replied that that was better than not feeling anything at all. Since I do not exist in the same world as such folks, I cannot imagine the state of their interior landscape. But I can't help but fear that they will be very lonely some day and regret having shut themselves off.

For me, feeling deeply means that I am connected with what is around me: the people, places and events that fill up our world. It also means that I am connected with myself. Yes, it means that I cry at movies or the news, but it also means I laugh and love with no restraint. And I'd much prefer that to numbness.

"To enjoy simply" seems like a given for me, although I don't know that everyone would agree. It occurs to me that if we require elaborate plans to enjoy things, we make it difficult to enjoy much of our lives. Whether the plans require preparation or money, they can be deferred by circumstances and I believe that happiness deferred is happiness lost. How much more enjoyment in life would we have if we noticed the daffodils poking up in spring? Or the smell of smoke coming from chimneys in the dead of winter? Or the taste of fresh bread? Or the stars in the night sky? Or innumerable things just waiting for us to notice them as we go about our day? Of course, this would require us to slow down a bit, so that we don't miss the opportunity. Would that be a bad thing?

I hadn't ever thought about "thinking freely" as a component of happiness, but I think perhaps she is right about this one, too. If one does not think for oneself and adheres to some outside prescription for important matters in one's life, how could one be truly happy? Content, perhaps, but not happy. For me, thinking freely means entertaining ideas that may be in conflict with each other in an effort to determine what I believe to be true. This goes for politics, spirituality and social norms. I don't accept any premise unless I have examined it from all angles. This can be annoying, even provoking, to some. And I know that people have dropped me because they couldn't stand that I didn't fall automatically into line with their position. But I know that I could never be truly happy not examining positions from every angle in order to find my own truth.

"To be needed" seems to be true as well. And a lack in this area not only negates happiness, but also causes serious depression. I think we see it most sharply with mothers whose children have grown and left the nest and with the elderly who can no longer fully participate in things that connected them with others. There comes a feeling of uselessness in the lack of being needed. And we don't seem to find happiness in merely amusing ourselves. Perhaps it is our upbringing or perhaps it is innate in humans, but the need to be needed in some capacity seems to be a requirement for happiness. I have known a couple of people who seemed to muddle through their lives without making an effort to connect and, as a result, they truly were not needed by those around them. In one case, it led to dying all alone and unmourned. We need to be needed, whether it is by our pets, the elderly neighbor next door, our loved ones or to people who benefit from our work. And we seem to need a constant diet of it. Being needed 20 years ago is not the same thing as being needed now, and it does not give on-going happiness now.

The thing I think Ms. Jameson left out of her list for happiness is to love and be loved. She may have implied it in the being needed or feeling deeply, but it wasn't clearly there. And it is absolutely vital. And it may be the case that the most important half of those two is to love, if one is limited to just one. When it is mutual, I believe that there is a dimension of freedom that opens one up to even greater happiness. I have never been in such a situation, but it seems there is a greater space for allowing in such a relationship. What freedom to be allowed to touch and care for another! To share parts of ourselves that we share with no one else. To find peace just knowing that the other one is there. To know that someone would notice and worry if you didn't make it home some evening, and to worry about that someone if they didn't make it home.

Is this list complete? I don't know. I suspect it is the basics that people add to individually. But I wonder what happens to happiness if any of the basics are missing? I think it might be the case that we find a way to be happy with what we have, but the longing for the missing ones will remain. Perhaps the best we can hope for is to go a little beyond the half way mark and relish anything more as a cherished gift. At least, for myself, I hope that is the case.

Repression of expression

"Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for truth." -- Benjamin Disraeli.

Things haven't changed much from the Victorian era when Disraeli wrote that. We seem to go through periods where we lighten up and feel more free to express emotions, but it doesn't seem to last. Public expressions of feeling tend to make others uncomfortable and, in many cases, expressing them in more private spheres does the same thing. And I wonder why this is the case. I think it is for a variety of reasons.

The first possible reason is that, particularly in the case of negative emotions, it makes other people feel vulnerable. If anyone over the age of about 5 begins to cry in public, whatever the reason, people tend to look away and avoid the situation. With children, the adults in the vicinity will become annoyed. With other adults, they start looking for the exit. Absent blood and protruding bones, it doesn't appear that there is any situation where we accept tears in public - whatever the provocation. And we all accept this as true. In cases where the tears flow out of control, even in highly justifiable situations, the person will immediately begin to apologize for crying, which to my mind is absolute lunacy, although I've done it. It is as if one is denying the legitimacy of one's pain. Perhaps those witnessing it feel uncomfortable because it reminds them of our essential vulnerability as humans.

Anger, while slightly more tolerable than pain, still must be reined in for public consumption. It is expected to be contained in tight, quiet, restrained little bursts and, in most cases, followed by an apology for "losing it". It doesn't matter the reason for the anger, however justified, it must be kept to a minimum. Although I have noticed, after a lifetime of quietly not making waves no matter what, the odd occasional outburst does tend to get people's attention and show that you are serious. But it makes folks uncomfortable and it is considered impolite, so apologies must follow.

The repression of expression extends to the positive feelings as well. If we are happy or amused, we are allowed polite restrained laughter, but guffaws are simply not acceptable. Giggles are fine in moderation, but if one is frequently amused one is not taken seriously. Which is all kinds of too bad. Sometimes a good laugh is all that gets one through the hard stuff. And they are contagious. A giggling child will get everyone in the area smiling at the very least. And some of the best moments with friends entail laughing uncontrollably. Perhaps the restraint is expected because not everyone is sharing in the joke. Could it be jealousy? I honestly don't know.

Quite possibly the biggest taboo of all to express is that of affection and love. People get visibly uncomfortable with any mention of those feelings except within the strict confines of the family or romantic relationships. And this is really a mind blower for me. I've seen people avoided and made fun of when they express affection spontaneously. And I've thought and thought about it, wondering why that was the case. The only thing that I can think of is that it might make folks feel an obligation to reciprocate and that is the source of their discomfort. Either they do not return the feeling or they think that accepting it will require some sort of action on their part. Either that, or it is just that intense emotion intensifies the level of discomfort we tend to have around all emotions.

So, what's to be done? Currently, we seem to allow emotions to leak out in the presence of alcohol. If affection or tears bursts forth under the influence, they are quickly packed back up with the excuse of drunkenness. I've heard that in Japan you can even tell your boss exactly what to do with himself, sideways, if you have the excuse of being inebriated. But it seems sad to me that we have to have a crutch in order to express our feelings.

What if we felt both able to express our feelings and to accept others' feelings as they are, without any expectation of response or apology? What if we looked on it as merely an expression of honesty? I'm not sure, but I suspect that it would allow for healthier relations between people. There is a type of freedom in knowing where you stand with others. There is also a bit of fear that accompanies that freedom. Anger may be condemned. Affection may be rejected. But, if they be true emotions, they should never be apologized for.

A kind word

As children we all repeated a little chant: "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me." We did so in an attempt to turn away hurtful things someone else had said to or about us. As we grew older, we learned that words not only could hurt us, they could devastate us. And some of us then learned to be careful of our own use of words and to protect ourselves from the words of others.

Odd, then, how we were never taught about the healing use of words as well as the hurtful ones. How we can say a small thing that will brighten and transform the life of another, in large ways or small ways, often without our even knowing that we have done so. We can say just the thing someone has needed to hear and bring joy where there had previously been pain. We can make both small and large contributions to someone else's self image merely by opening our mouths and saying a heartfelt kind word.

Many years ago, I was walking down a deserted hallway in a university building. A strange woman, whom I had never seen before, was walking towards me. We exchanged the usual acknowledgments of each others' existence and kept on walking. I have no recollection of my state of mind or mood, but in fairly short order, this woman was about to lift it in a way that I have never forgotten. She had just passed me when she stopped, turned back and said, "Has anyone ever told you? You have the most beautiful eyes." This unsolicited compliment from a total stranger did so much to improve that day for me that I remember the moment some 20 years later and, I'm sure, this nice woman has absolutely no memory of it at all. It was just one kind act in what was probably a long series of kind acts in her life.

On another more recent occasion, about 6 or 7 years ago, in re-living a very traumatic event in my life in a very public place, several people approached me with very kind words. But one very dear human said something to me that changed my life. I didn't know it at the time, but I had been holding my breath for 24 years waiting to hear precisely the words he said to me. I was in a bit of a shocked state, so I don't know if he ever realized what a gift he had given me, but it transformed my life and permanently lifted the power of something that had haunted me for many, many years. And I will be eternally grateful.

All too easily we internalize the negative, hurtful words and dismiss the kind ones as though they have less power. Recently, I have been collecting and savoring kind words from others. Usually, they come very unexpectedly and I've learned to reply with a genuine smile and a thank you rather than the expected self-deprecating denial. And then I hug the words to me to savor their warmth for a time. In the past two weeks alone, I've collected quite a few lovely adjectives said to me or about me to others, which cause me to smile and see myself a bit more as others do, a bit more clearly, more positively.

And I am trying to more consciously put those same good feelings back out to others. It is not difficult at all to give half a minute to a genuine compliment or insight to someone. It is so very simple to say, "I just love that you are always so X." "I think it is great when you do Y." "Do you know how wonderful you are?" Anything at all, so long as it is true and good, may be the very thing that someone else needs to hear to make their day or heal some pain. It costs us nothing to boost each other up. There is no need to be suspicious of the motives or intention of these words. And, just like those two people from my past, it may help someone in ways we may never ever realize.

I can't help but believe that if more of us engaged in spontaneous acts and words of kindness that all of us would be better off. I don't know if it would lead to world peace, but it might lead to a lot more inner peace, and it certainly wouldn't lead to more conflict. And it costs us nothing to try.