If I was an inanimate object I would probably be a spring bolt of some kind. I’m always bouncing back whenever life knocks me down…even against my own will…even when all I want to do is lie there and play dead.
Something in me never lets me give up.
I know this ability to bounce back is a good thing…but to be honest, I don’t particularly like it because the reality is, it is driven by a relentless hope and having hope means the possibility of being disappointed.
Hope exists because disappointment exists.
Hope is dangerous.
But on the other hand, hope can also save your life.
There used to be a tree just outside the Caulfield train station where I get off every morning. Every day I would walk past that tree. I would notice it, see it and even say hello to it. I have a thing for trees and that tree was no exception. It was a wonderful constant because I knew that every morning it would be right there, regal and steadfast in its place.
The other day, I got off the train only to find the entire area turned into a construction site and my tree was gone. I was shocked and felt a sense of loss and despair. Ironically, it encapsulated what was going on in my life – the sense of loss and hopelessness over relationships that I thought would be constant and always there.
But like my tree, I woke up one morning and they were gone.
Walking home last night, the warm, balmy night air made me think of hope. Hope is the only force in the world that can bring life where death reigns. Hope makes pain bearable. And hope is the assurance that in the end, no matter what happens everything is going to be okay.
Having hope is no guarantee to an easy, pain-free life, quite the opposite really. Having hope means understanding the value of pain in the larger scheme of things.
I, for one, do not do pain very well but I’m seeing its purpose more and more. Pain has the power to shift and change perspectives;
You learn; you grow; you reach out; you bleed; you cry; you lie flat on the ground; you surrender, give up; you stop fighting and then it finally sinks in…
That there is nothing else beyond pain except that life will re-order itself and everything is going to be okay.
It’s not easy to see the light at the end of the tunnel when you are so immersed in the darkness. It’s easy to feel hopeless – that you’re stuck in the tunnel.
But the truth is every tunnel leads somewhere. And sometimes it takes something as dramatic as the loss of a tree, friend, relationship, or the unravelling of yourself or pain to show you where that somewhere is.
And when you get there you see the reason for the drama.
Everything is going to be okay means that all those thing that are loose and don’t make much sense in your life right now will at some point speak to you with meaning and clarity; it means the difficulties of whatever it may be will at some point ease and the pain will pass.
This is not a cliché,
It is a fact.
And hope keeps this fact alive. Hope restores your perspective and this is what saves your life because a wrong perspective can very well kill you.
They are building something awesome outside the Caulfield train station and whatever it is it will be better than what was there before. So even though my tree is gone, I know beauty will reign where it stood.
And I also know that despite the pain of heartbreak I’ve been dancing with, something beautiful will rise from the ashes.
Hope assures me of that.
Hope assures me that everything is going to be okay.
And this is not a cliché,
It is a fact.