Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Genesis

In the beginning was the word. Words begat phrases and phrases begat names. Why did I choose "Hopeful Curmudgeon" as a name?

One thing at a time, dear cicadas. Let's begin with "hope," from which "hopeful" is derived. Hope, like happiness (and like most pharmaceutical drugs), is overrated and abused (at least, in America). But I wanted to offset the negative connotations of the second word in the blog name with the misperceived connotations of the first.

Etymologically, hope comes from the Old English "hopian," meaning "wish, expect, look forward to something." Some wordophiles suggest there is a connection with the verb "hop," as in "leaping in expectation."

Whatever.

The point is that if you are seeking hope, it implies you are not content with the present...with the moment - the now. It implies you want something you currently don't have, or you wish things were different than they actually are right now.

Hey, I don't deny there have been times in my life that I needed hope. I needed it more than I did the next hit of that sweet, sweet liquid or smoke. In fact, I needed hope in order to not take another hit of the sweet stuff that had turned so sour - and had made me bitter. I also needed it several years ago, when I'd lost a job I hated but subsequently struggled to find something else. I'd nearly given up, was close to throwing in the humanitarian towel and going to work for the Man...helping rich people get richer, when voila! something decent came through.

So I've been there - many times. And I undoubtedly will find myself in an untenable place again.

But in the meantime, I am gonna breathe THIS breath...feel the earth under THIS step...and fully appreciate all that I DO have right now. And the next time I think I need hope, maybe one of you will remind me of this truth:

Most of us here in the so-called developed world have everything we need. Your life will never be any better than it is right now (since it is always now). Waiting to enjoy it until some future something comes along or goes away places you in a perpeptual state of Never-Never land...might as well dig it as it is.

Lest you think I am on the verge of sounding hopeful, check back. I'll explain the use of "curmudgeon" soon.

So, what does "hope" mean to you? What am I missing? What do you think?

CM

5 comments:

JeanGenie said...

Sometimes I think you have to hope that things will get better. You know I'm terrible at living in the now; while I appreciate the realness of that, I think we have to intersperse that with pieces of hope because otherwise things might be too awful. (I mean, come on, some days just really suck and how would you ever get through them if you couldn't look forward to the next one?)

Also, when you are happy, it's good to "look forward" to something, which doesn't necessarily mean you're dissatisfied with the present. Besides, I'm a planner. If I always lived life on a wing(nut) and a prayer, nothing would get done.

A String of the Big Cheese said...

I agree with Jeannie,

I don't think it is a bad thing to look forward to something. Man, hope has gotten me through some of the roughest situations with just the feeling that something better, a little bit of relief, was just around the corner. When I have hope, it does come from within. I am talking about the kind of temporary hope that makes you anxious and excited, but the kind and flattens out just one of the wrinkles on your forehead.

cranial midget said...

Jeannie and Laura: Thanks for the comments. And thanks for going easy on me!

I don't think any of us are in disagreement. Hope, as I said, has gotten me through some pretty awful times, too. There have been times in my life when NOT being in the now was the only way I'd get through it.

It's just that, for me, when I am engaging hope, it means that there's something about the present that I am not jiving with.

Do we all agree - or is there more?

EHoward said...

I look farther forward to understand hope. What the ultimate end? Death, naturally (and no real knowledge of the after).

Guh, depressing, BUT it says alot about our HOPE choice. I HOPE to win the lottery. I HOPE to have a baby. I HOPE the Bo and Hope don't split up. Is hope even a real emotion? Is it just a word most of the time?

Hope, truthfully, is the flip side of despair, I think. It's what your grip onto so that you don't fall off. I don't know that I use HOPE to look forward to something. I use hope like a suction cup: to save me from sliding down the glass face of life, when there is nothing else I think will stop me.

What do I HOPE? Sometimes nothing. HOPE to me has real form: It's the sound of crickets and the cool breeze in the evening. It is my mother's hug and the taste of hot tea.

Maybe, in some ways, HOPE and comfort are the same to me. But that's what I think.

E

Anonymous said...

Does hope necessarily include dissatisfaction with the present? Can I have faith, confidence, assurance, and even hope while I’m entirely satisfied right now? Yes, I can. I know because that describes my current situation, right now, this very moment.

Here I am, pleasantly typing away, completely satisfied and assured.

Then I notice that my legs are a bit tight, and I adjust my chair and the sensation is better, more comfortable. Where did the dissatisfaction come from? My senses. And now it is gone. I hoped it would be gone and I changed the chair and voila… Again I am satisfied and hopeful, in that I have faith and confidence. I am self assured and hopeful.

Trivial example? Yes, but that is what is happening now.

My past experiences give me reason believe that when my senses pick up something I am dissatisfied with, I will be given a solution; that through prayer and meditation I will find a way to endure, to either change my circumstances or my attitude via the power that pulses through this world, the power I feel in myself, the power I see changing others, giving the paralyzed the strength to move on and make their life work yet again. When I see others finding a pathway through what seems to me to be a completely untenable situation, I gain hope. When I come to the end of my rope, lay my head back and scream for relief, cry out with primal need for the suffering to stop, for something, anything to change, because I literally cannot stand it any longer, not for one more moment, and I am repeatedly given a way out, an escape that may or may not have anything to do with the external circumstances changing, shown a path that was not visible before my meltdown, before my surrender, before my ego had to let go, I gain hope. And that kind of hope endures and percolates in my being and is there even when I am satisfied.