Kimberly Warner sent me here -- and I'm so glad she did! I'm grateful for your moving and cogent thoughts on hope, a subject dear to me. My original name for my newsletter was Building Hope -- and it featured the environmentally visionary master's thesis work of our university's graduate architecture students. Reading this has given me new insights into why hope resonates so strongly with me. 💚
Julie, I'm so grateful to Kimberly for connecting us. I subscribed to Homecoming and see your Nov 23 piece on hope, which I look forward to reading, amongst others. Reading of your environmentally visionary architecture pedagogy and students' work gives every reason to believe we dwell in hope. Thank you for your work. I will circle back to your stack mid-December. I'm leading a retreat next week on "entering unknowing" for these transitional times and pulling myself away from Substack for a bit to prepare. Until then, thank you for sharing. 💖
The concept of hope is very interesting. We all know what it means to be filled with hope. Usually, hope means is that we wish something to be realized that we want. So, it that sense hope is a form of attachment. That's why the Buddhists say that you must surrender everything, including hope, to be fully unattached, as any form of attachment brings suffering. Pema Chodron said that we need to give up hope because it gives us a ground to stand on, when in reality there is no ground, and that what is called for is complete surrender to the groundlessness of our being. I had trouble with that when I read it years ago. But I do understand it in the sense that Buddhist thought is that we must surrender everything that causes suffering, including hope, which keeps us attached to an outcome. I think that the trick is to be unattached to hope, so that any outcome is accepted and surrendered to. When Cynthia Bourgeault says, " It (hope) is entered always and only through surrender; that is, through the willingness to let go of everything we are presently clinging to.", I would add, being willing to give up clinging to hope as well. Right now, most of us, I imagine, want to hope that ultimately something good will emerge from the chaos of the next 4 years. I certainly feel that. What I don't want for myself is to be crushed if that doesn't happen, at least not in my lifetime. So I want to hold that hope lightly, knowing that we have no idea how things will play out. As much as I want that outcome, I want to prepare myself to surrender to whatever unfolds. I want to try and reduce and minimize any suffering that I might create for myself or others. So, perhaps this poem by Rumi says something about all this in his way. "Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing, there is a field. I'll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase each other doesn't make sense."
Thank you for your close read and thoughtful reflections. It occurs to me in reading your reflections to offer additional comments that might be helpful.
In essence, the hope we are working with here is a hope that is always already there. We could say this hope *accesses* us. From time to time, an effervescence of this hope bubbles up from the bottom of the well of surrender, much as we might be struck by wonder or awe in a state of naked intent. It is this state of emptiness that gives us over to the hope that is already there, not because we go in search of it, not with an outcome to cling to or attachment to hope itself. Rather, we have the living recognition that we abide in an oceanic sea of hope that comes to us like an ocean to the shore––always and only through surrender.
In this way, what the Buddhist say and what the Western traditions say are not dissimilar. You write that you are preparing yourself to surrender to whatever unfolds. Perhaps these additional remarks provide some clarity and a place to rest, the resting place being the depth of surrender on which you have reflected here.
Thank you for this, Renée. I am reading it the day after the election and am so grateful that hope does not "bloom in the human will" but that we can continue to "tap into it."
Loved this Renée. I love how you wove these "fractal pieces" together while also leaving space around the blank. For it's never really one definition or meaning. An invitation to dive deep and explore. To give space to my own journey. Appreciated the quotes by Cynthia Bourgeault, especially this, "And yet when we enter it, it enters us and fills us with its own life—a quiet strength beyond anything we have ever known." Beautiful! My concepts around hope have changed. Gotten softer. I was taught that hope was a cope out, all I needed to do is take charge of my life. Ahh, the bypass of positive thinking. The seeds of hope now grows in me. Sprouting and rooting in darkness, as they must do as the starting point. Then rising towards the light.
Julie, thank you for sharing your experience with these reflections, especially the passage from Cynthia Bourgeault that as "we enter [hope], it enters us and fills us with its own life--a quiet strength beyond anything we have ever known." That this reflection has changed your understanding of hope, softened this understanding, and amended the bypassing positive psychologizing can tend to collapse into, offers us all, truly, ". . . a pulse of truth that sends us forth." Thank you.
Yes yes yes! I want to shout this exploration from the hilltops Renée! Hope has always been such a hard concept for me, seemingly drawing me out of the present and dishonoring what “is.” But you have at last helped me see that hope is not human, and therefore isn’t founded in the ego’s wants and needs. Instead it is the very spark of stardust within all existence that keeps unfolding. As you said so beautifully, “It does not come at the end, as the feeling that results from a happy outcome. Rather, it lies at the beginning, as a pulse of truth that sends us forth.” Now this is a hope I can sing!
Kimberly, I echo you. It seems that we have called upon an idea of hope to bypass "what 'is'," when 'what is' challenges ego-consciousness. In fact, hope is enfolded into "what 'is'," "the very spark of stardust within all existence that keeps unfolding." We can trust this with all our being.
I cannot take credit for this sentence "It does not come at the end. . . ." These are the words of Cynthia Bourgeault, but again, I echo you. They lead us to a hope we can sing!
Thank you, dear Megan. It seems to me this quality of hope that comes "at the beginning, as a pulse of truth that sends us forth," is the bedrock of caritas that you name here.
This message is necessary. We need it to warm us and remind us. We are not the source of hope yet it lives within us, it is always there. Thank you Renee.
I am with patients all day Tuesday so unable to attend a gathering, however I will be offering constant prayers and hope as I move through my day. My heart is with you, so very much!
For anyone who’s in the Japan time zone, I believe the Gathering in Hope Vigils will be at 11:00 pm (Tue), 02:00 am (Wed), 05:00 am, 08:00 am, and 11:00 am. :-)
Kimberly Warner sent me here -- and I'm so glad she did! I'm grateful for your moving and cogent thoughts on hope, a subject dear to me. My original name for my newsletter was Building Hope -- and it featured the environmentally visionary master's thesis work of our university's graduate architecture students. Reading this has given me new insights into why hope resonates so strongly with me. 💚
Julie, I'm so grateful to Kimberly for connecting us. I subscribed to Homecoming and see your Nov 23 piece on hope, which I look forward to reading, amongst others. Reading of your environmentally visionary architecture pedagogy and students' work gives every reason to believe we dwell in hope. Thank you for your work. I will circle back to your stack mid-December. I'm leading a retreat next week on "entering unknowing" for these transitional times and pulling myself away from Substack for a bit to prepare. Until then, thank you for sharing. 💖
Wow, your retreat sounds wonderful -- and so needed. Good luck with it.
The concept of hope is very interesting. We all know what it means to be filled with hope. Usually, hope means is that we wish something to be realized that we want. So, it that sense hope is a form of attachment. That's why the Buddhists say that you must surrender everything, including hope, to be fully unattached, as any form of attachment brings suffering. Pema Chodron said that we need to give up hope because it gives us a ground to stand on, when in reality there is no ground, and that what is called for is complete surrender to the groundlessness of our being. I had trouble with that when I read it years ago. But I do understand it in the sense that Buddhist thought is that we must surrender everything that causes suffering, including hope, which keeps us attached to an outcome. I think that the trick is to be unattached to hope, so that any outcome is accepted and surrendered to. When Cynthia Bourgeault says, " It (hope) is entered always and only through surrender; that is, through the willingness to let go of everything we are presently clinging to.", I would add, being willing to give up clinging to hope as well. Right now, most of us, I imagine, want to hope that ultimately something good will emerge from the chaos of the next 4 years. I certainly feel that. What I don't want for myself is to be crushed if that doesn't happen, at least not in my lifetime. So I want to hold that hope lightly, knowing that we have no idea how things will play out. As much as I want that outcome, I want to prepare myself to surrender to whatever unfolds. I want to try and reduce and minimize any suffering that I might create for myself or others. So, perhaps this poem by Rumi says something about all this in his way. "Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing, there is a field. I'll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase each other doesn't make sense."
Dear Ed,
Thank you for your close read and thoughtful reflections. It occurs to me in reading your reflections to offer additional comments that might be helpful.
In essence, the hope we are working with here is a hope that is always already there. We could say this hope *accesses* us. From time to time, an effervescence of this hope bubbles up from the bottom of the well of surrender, much as we might be struck by wonder or awe in a state of naked intent. It is this state of emptiness that gives us over to the hope that is already there, not because we go in search of it, not with an outcome to cling to or attachment to hope itself. Rather, we have the living recognition that we abide in an oceanic sea of hope that comes to us like an ocean to the shore––always and only through surrender.
In this way, what the Buddhist say and what the Western traditions say are not dissimilar. You write that you are preparing yourself to surrender to whatever unfolds. Perhaps these additional remarks provide some clarity and a place to rest, the resting place being the depth of surrender on which you have reflected here.
Thank you for this, Renée. I am reading it the day after the election and am so grateful that hope does not "bloom in the human will" but that we can continue to "tap into it."
Indeed, Emily. Your timing is perfect, then. Now and in these days ahead, may we tap into hope ceaselessly.
Yes!
Loved this Renée. I love how you wove these "fractal pieces" together while also leaving space around the blank. For it's never really one definition or meaning. An invitation to dive deep and explore. To give space to my own journey. Appreciated the quotes by Cynthia Bourgeault, especially this, "And yet when we enter it, it enters us and fills us with its own life—a quiet strength beyond anything we have ever known." Beautiful! My concepts around hope have changed. Gotten softer. I was taught that hope was a cope out, all I needed to do is take charge of my life. Ahh, the bypass of positive thinking. The seeds of hope now grows in me. Sprouting and rooting in darkness, as they must do as the starting point. Then rising towards the light.
Julie, thank you for sharing your experience with these reflections, especially the passage from Cynthia Bourgeault that as "we enter [hope], it enters us and fills us with its own life--a quiet strength beyond anything we have ever known." That this reflection has changed your understanding of hope, softened this understanding, and amended the bypassing positive psychologizing can tend to collapse into, offers us all, truly, ". . . a pulse of truth that sends us forth." Thank you.
Yes yes yes! I want to shout this exploration from the hilltops Renée! Hope has always been such a hard concept for me, seemingly drawing me out of the present and dishonoring what “is.” But you have at last helped me see that hope is not human, and therefore isn’t founded in the ego’s wants and needs. Instead it is the very spark of stardust within all existence that keeps unfolding. As you said so beautifully, “It does not come at the end, as the feeling that results from a happy outcome. Rather, it lies at the beginning, as a pulse of truth that sends us forth.” Now this is a hope I can sing!
Kimberly, I echo you. It seems that we have called upon an idea of hope to bypass "what 'is'," when 'what is' challenges ego-consciousness. In fact, hope is enfolded into "what 'is'," "the very spark of stardust within all existence that keeps unfolding." We can trust this with all our being.
I cannot take credit for this sentence "It does not come at the end. . . ." These are the words of Cynthia Bourgeault, but again, I echo you. They lead us to a hope we can sing!
Renee, your writing is graciously invitational, rich in caritas.
You invite me into this contemplation on hope/——— through darkness with such astute gentleness. Your words, ring with the logos.
Thank you, dear Megan. It seems to me this quality of hope that comes "at the beginning, as a pulse of truth that sends us forth," is the bedrock of caritas that you name here.
This message is necessary. We need it to warm us and remind us. We are not the source of hope yet it lives within us, it is always there. Thank you Renee.
I am with patients all day Tuesday so unable to attend a gathering, however I will be offering constant prayers and hope as I move through my day. My heart is with you, so very much!
"It lives within us, it is always there."
Thank you, Donna. Yes. We surrender into hope.
And we'll feel your heartful presence tomorrow. . .
For anyone who’s in the Japan time zone, I believe the Gathering in Hope Vigils will be at 11:00 pm (Tue), 02:00 am (Wed), 05:00 am, 08:00 am, and 11:00 am. :-)
Louise, thank you for this. In the sleeping zone for you there. . .
Won’t be able to light a candle, I’m afraid, as it’s a work day, but will be holding hope throughout the day!
Dear Louise, I missed this comment from you somehow. Thank you for holding hope. May we all continue to hold hope.