Hope.... Or Not
(Hope is eternal... Gives a reason to strive... to not give in to despair.... But is hope, or the excess of it, bad? Or ill advised? For a doctor to give false hope to a dying patient, for a business close into bankruptcy, for a lover who has been deserted, and for a trader, who is deep into painful loss in a trade, hope may be the last thing thing that is needed.... Hope can be like an intoxicant, while making feel good, while denying the reality and the chance to assess the problem realistically and resolve it practically.....
Happened to write this as received a message from a friend, who is in such a situation, and eternally hopeful.... Looking only at one side (desired outcome) lessens the chance of taking sound decisions and hence this post)
Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man - Friedrich Nietzsche
https://whatashrinkthinks.com/2013/11/11/pernicious-hope/
Hope, misdirected, misplaced, can cement our attachments to people and places that are destructive to us. Hope can dangle, like bait, with a sharp hook embedded inside to keep us waiting for transformations that will never come. Hope gone haywire lurks at the root of all addictions – and we all know the “definition of insanity” is doing the same thing over and over and hoping for different results.
Hope can block out necessary grief, forestalling or arresting entirely, the sweet release of necessary loss and healthy mourning. Hope can deceive us, obscuring realities that we need to face. Hope can keep us waiting for Godot, who will never come. Hope to “get out of” is the root of all denial.
Pernicious hope lures the gambler to go “all in” on a long shot, and invites cowardice to search for means of magical escape. Hoping for divine intervention, waiting passively to be lifted out of circumstances that require our labor and our conscious intention, Hope can bind and paralyze us.
Hope can keep us places that we need to leave, and seduce us into leaving places where we should stay. Hope futurizes, pulling on us to abandon the present moment, and numbing us to it. Hope insinuates that we can get out of our distress – when our soul’s only salvation may be to go through it.
Where Hope is, fear lurks just below.
We dread the dark lessons, the painful transformations, the inevitable losses that life requires of us. We do not want to give up on the dirty well. Pernicious hope tempts us to return to it over and over in search of clean water.
Hope is grippy, sticky, grasping. It sneaks up quietly and carries a big hook: Hope can distract, divert, drain our energies away from dreaded but unavoidable responsibilities, stealing our focus, and our acceptance of the task at hand.
Every defense, every resistance, every form of self-sabotage contains, at the bottom of the box, Hope in some form. To surrender hope is an exhausting and terrifying process. Hope is a habit that is hard to extinguish, a fix we can’t stop for. It reasserts itself, stubborn, persistent, sneaky, a craving, a crutch.
The work of psychotherapy is often to chase down and sort through the flock of slippery and Pernicious Hopes in all their diverse and daemonic aspects. To capture one at a time, examine it, to challenge and question its true mission, to uncover exactly which god this particular Hope obeys.
To exorcise it.
And the therapist’s hopes can have as much destructive power as the client’s. To hope too much on behalf of a client is a rejection of where they actually are. To hope to cure a client is inflated and grandiose as that prerogative is theirs alone. To hope to rescue someone from their circumstance is avoidant and can instill more fear in the client toward what may lie ahead, implying that it cannot be faced. Therapists may also hope to escape the painful or frightening aspects of a client’s journey and wrestle with the tempting hope, that the dark cup will taken from them both.
Surrender All Hope Ye Who Enter Here.
And much maligned Hopelessness, always given short shrift, can bring sweet relief. Giving up, surrender, admitting defeat, hitting bottom, allows us to lay on the damp earth, face down, grounded, maybe bloodied, but on the earth, and of the earth for good, for ill.
We can breathe again when Hope releases us from its clutches. When there is nothing left to lose, we are no longer afraid. We can rest, heal up, and when we have gathered our energies, face what is real squarely and without letting Hope deceive us. Without Hopelessness we cannot embrace our fate or face our destiny.
The great gift of angelic Hopelessness is Acceptance.
To write without hope is the very best way to write.
Dante passed through the Gates of Hell, and descended through its terrible rings before he was permitted to rise up through Purgatory to glimpse Paradise.
True, angelic Hope lives on the other side of Hopelessness. It does not protect us from hopelessness or help us avoid it. It is the gift we are sometimes given when we have withstood hopelessness past the point of what we thought we could endure. It is often hidden, buried, or dwelling just past the horizon line of our limited perceptions. Sometimes it is just the sound of water, the smallest trickle, in the far distance. It is hard to hear, impossible to see, and rarely obvious.
Angelic Hope descends as an unexpected visitor, as a moment of grace as something we can never expect, demand, and will turn destructive if we cling to it too tightly.