Writing as an Act of Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all.   Emily Dickinson

I began this blog over two years ago, hoping I could last a year. I was sure that by then I would run out of ideas, subjects, or experience that would interest anyone else.

Week after week, I have asked myself; ‘What is it I am interested in right now? What question is swirling around in my head? What emotion or memory has erupted into my consciousness unexpectedly that demands my attention and compels me to get it down on paper?’

And then, I go about my business of living, and watching, and listening, and reflecting, and wondering, and feeling. Sometimes it is weeks before a nugget of an idea or image appears. And I then I write.

Yet, upon finishing each post, this same thought comes over me like an approaching storm — ‘That’s it. I am out of material. I have nothing more interesting to say that hasn’t been said by someone else, and said better’.

Sometimes I can almost hear the page taunt me— ‘Who the hell do you think you are? You’re not a writer. James Joyce is a writer, and you my friend, are no James Joyce.’

I have been told by countless writers that regardless of those nay-saying whisperers in my head, I must make myself sit down in front of this blank piece of paper every single day, if only for a few minutes. It is always uncomfortable at first—like putting on my running shoes and heading out the front door for a run. That first mile never feels good.

When I sit down to write, I feel like the page is alive, looking up at me—daring me to put something down. And, in hope, I take up the dare. I just start putting stuff down, stuff I never intend anyone else to see but me.

Mostly it is garbage—but as the minutes of writing go by, from somewhere outside myself a stream of words comes forth, some image or idea or memory or question—and I am off writing something I never planned.

My task each day is to pay attention to my life, allow myself to be astonished by it, and then record what I see or hear or feel. Over time, a pattern has emerged where something beyond my ability gets down on paper.

Writing has become a concrete act of hope. Like all acts of hope, it is spawned by an inner emptiness or darkness, a feeling of not knowing what is next—like a rock climber letting go of their hold, never quite sure of the next.

This emptiness is then followed by a force that compels me to move forward in the face of this emptiness. I don’t know what I will write, I just know I have to.

When I show up to write every day, I place myself in the position to receive. I never know when or what I will receive. For this post, I sat down with a just a question that interested me— ‘Why do I continue to write in the face of the unknown and my own insecurities?’ I don’t even know where this sentence will take me or what will follow. But I hope. So I Write.

Aren’t all acts of hope like the act of writing?

Each day as I wake up, I must face another blank page of my life. What I did or thought or felt yesterday is gone. I have a new day ahead with which to write my life on.

Each morning we face that same blank page of our life. On that page, we hope for something particular or even remarkable. With each day we have the opportunity to start from a place of hope— the hope that something good is up ahead. So, we blindly move forward with the simplest acts of our lives.

• For a writer, to open the notebook with a pen in hand and attention paid.
• For the musician, to sit in front of their instrument with the music open and fingers ready.
• For the artist, to start with the lump of clay or the stretched canvas, and watch and perhaps pray.
• For the parents of the struggling child, to show up every day with a renewed compassion, encouragement, and patience,
• For the estranged partners –to begin again with kindness, tolerance, and the benefit of doubt— forgetting and forgiving yesterday.
• For the loved one of an addict—to refuse to enable, but to never give up on them.
• For the unemployed or under-employed, to seek for and apply one more time for that open position.
• For the employee, to show up each day and do your job with care regardless if anyone notices.

Desmond Tutu said, “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness”.

If the page of my life seems to be blank of dreams and purpose, I will show up until dreams may come and purpose unfolds. I will continue to show up to my life in hope, believing that when I do, I am conspiring with the creator of the universe. All of creation, all of the resources of God, are sitting on ready, so that when finding us each doing our lives in hope, at just the right moment, the unexpected descends down upon us to deliver its surprise.

All because each day we showed up to the blank page of our little lives in hope.

I know as soon as I hit “Publish”, I will hear the whisper again ‘OK, now what? Is there anything left?’

I will then think of you, and will take hope from how I see you approach your blank page each day.

Kind Regards,

Bob