On Hope and Despair and Self-Care in Challenging Times

Plus a little beauty, a new poem, a writing prompt, and practices to cultivate self-care

Owens River Gorge by Phyllis Shafer

My friend Alicia turned me on to these gorgeous landscape paintings by Phyllis Shafer. You can see more here. A little beauty for your day, a small wonder.

I want to talk about despair and hope. This is a topic that is in the public discourse a lot right now because of all the upheaval in the world. This upheaval is provoking despair in many people, understandably. There is a great deal of suffering going on in so many places. There are frightening, terrible things going on.

So, many people are talking about the importance of hope. The value of hope, of being able to keep hope alive, is that despair is paralyzing. It makes us frozen, unable to act. We feel powerless. And, of course, it feels awful.

Hope, on the other hand, can motivate us to positive action, to a sense of agency. And this is a good thing. It can make us creative, innovative, and empowered.

When I was given a diagnosis of advanced cancer over a year and a half ago, I worked fervently to heal myself on every level, using a huge array of methods. I felt terrible physically much of the time. Through all that, I clung to the hope that I could heal. Hope was vital for me. It motivated a great deal of research and action on my part that helped me heal the cancer (at least for now).

And yet, as I study teachings on awakening to our true nature, I discover that hope can keep us locked in the future. I realize now how much of my life I’ve spent dwelling in the future. I still do. I rarely hang out in the past, but the future… Oh, I love to dream big dreams and make them come true. And that’s wonderful and empowering and exciting.

But the trouble is: I have a strong habit of thinking things will be better at some future time.

Things will be better when I’m fully healed. I’m still dealing with a lot of bewildering and difficult symptoms and a ton of uncertainty about my future wellness, so this one is a favorite. And again, that hope sustained me this past year and half. But it’s also a trap that can keep me resisting the present moment, which causes a great deal of suffering.

Things will be better when I’m fully enlightened. This keeps me from recognizing the awareness that I already am, keeps “enlightenment” in the future. And keeps me unhappy with how I am now.

Things will be better when we move to Costa Rica. The trouble with this thought is that “Wherever you go, there you are.” Whatever mental/emotional habits I have now will be with me in Costa Rica. Whatever self-limiting patterns and beliefs I have now will still be with me in Costa Rica. The other problem with this is when my health challenges begin to threaten our being able to move to Costa Rica as they appeared to do this week, I fall into despair. (And no, I didn’t get any new bad news about my health. Due to ongoing symptoms, I just started to freak out in my mind.)

I have to fully enjoy my life now. Because this is the only life I have for sure. This moment. With its painful, bewildering symptoms. This moment with our autocratic, insane politicians. This moment with all its unsatisfactory elements and all its wonderful elements. That’s all I’ve got for sure.

So, this habit of hope I’ve had—despite dealing with bouts of depression, especially severe when I was younger, I’m an eternal optimist. I bounce back to the place of hope, of thinking things will be better in the future. There’s some good in this. But lately, I’m recognizing what a limitation it is.

Can you relate to this? I’d love to hear about your relationship to despair and hope. Please share in the comments.

I wrote a poem about that this week, which I’ll share below, because often poetry can say what prose cannot. It can touch us in a deep place. I hope my poems might do that for you.

If I could give up hope and despair, at least most of it, I could be more present and available to what is here now. And more responsive rather than reactive to it. More able to respond creatively, with calm and inner guidance. Whereas the despair I spun into this week completely shuts me down and freezes connection to my higher knowing, to anything useful or good. All I can do in these states is ride it out and try to be kind to myself.

This is where self-care comes in, which is our other topic this week. Self-care is especially needed right now. We’ll talk about that in this week’s Wonder Spark, and I’ll offer you some simple things you can do.

If you’d like to become a paid subscriber now, you can do that for just $7. Then, you’ll have access to my poem and our discussion of self-care and helpful practices for you. You’ll have access to our Wonder Sparks each week and to the vulnerable stuff that I put behind the paywall. And you’ll have access to our community, where we share the wonders we collect and other reflections.

The other great thing about choosing to upgrade to a paid subscription if you haven’t already—and if you have, thank you so much!—is that you are helping me pay my bills. My income is very slender right now after more than a year and a half of barely being able to work. I could use your support. And you’ll receive wonder-full things in return. A win-win.

Okay, on to the poems, plus a writing prompt for those who like to write, and our Wonder Sparks to help you cultivate self-care.